T'was the night before Christmas, and all through the lab, not a creature was stirring. Not even security. I had settled in with some rum and my copy of 'Godfather 2' from 'The Godfather' DVD box set, when all of a sudden, my Motorola two-way went off. Nothing good ever comes of the two-way sending me a message, so with baited breath and a heavy heart I read the message..it said: "Doc, Big S here. We gotta talk. Be over in a few."

Not knowing exactly what the meaning of all this was, I mean, how DARE he interrupt my viewing of capo de capo of badass movies just to 'talk'! And, on CHRISTMAS EVE no less, I was disturbed.

Thirty minutes later, I could hear the locks on the security doors opening, and sure enough there he was. Kris Kringle. Ol’ St Nick. Yep, 'Big S' was none other than Santa Claus. A close personal friend for some years, he's one of five people who have security clearance to get into The Lab. I could tell he was shaken. So, I stopped the movie (right in the middle of Micheal telling Fredo that he knew it was him..damn!) and sat down Big S to see what the problem was. 

FEVER: Ok fat man, this better be important. Wait, aren't you supposed to be delivering toys right now?

BIG S: Yeah. But Doc, I can't do it this year. I've got 'the fear'.

FEVER: Now, why in the name of Vito Corleone would you have 'the fear'? 

BIG S: It's this whole World Trade Center thing man. Ever since then, every radar jockey from here to Calcutta has an itchy trigger finger. They see an unknown object on the screen and they'll exterminate with extreme prejudice.

FEVER: MULARKY!

BIG S: Seriously. I don't know if I can do it. Besides, kids today…they don't want toys anyway. Why should I risk my rosy red ass to deliver a bunch of No Doubt cd's to 10-year-old girls who can't understand the music anyway? Tell me, why should I!?

FEVER: Well, when you put it that way. No Doubt? Didn't they used to be some kind of 'rock band'? I hear they've transformed into a rap group because the hottie singer has an itchin to be a bad girl...

BIG S: Oh it gets WORSE! I've got 14-year-old boys who want condoms, cell phones, red New York Yankees hats and Ludicrous CD's! Whatever happened to wanting a Red Rider BB Gun... (It was at this point that Big S grew really agitated and started drinking from the bottle of rum on my desk) ...it's not worth it Doc. I tell ya, it's just not worth it. Let the spoiled little brats go out and buy this shit on mommy and daddy’s platinum card. To hell with, I quit. I'm not getting my ass blown to bits by some pimple infested, fresh out of bootcamp kid at N.O.R.A.D. who thinks he's playing 'Flight Simulator'. Screw it Doc, SCREW IT!

FEVER: Well Big Man, I can understand in a way. Red Yankees hats! PFFT! Mickey Mantle is rolling over in his liquor filled grave. But, it's not a lost cause--you can do it. What about the kids man! Think about the little kids! They'll be heartbroken.

BIG S: Doc, it's the LITTLE kids that want the dumbest shit. I've got a list here from five-year-old Timmy in Moosebutt Alberta Canada. This 'kid' wants a digital cell phone, a platinum necklace, a diamond and platinum Rolex and corn-rows. CORNROWS!!! How the hell am I supposed to leave CORNROWS under the tree for a FIVE YEAR OLD, CANADIAN, WHITE KID!!! It's outta control Doc.

(Big S was starting to get drunk as this all went on)

FEVER: Alright, look Big Man. I'll make it simple. Either you get your big, rosy, red ass into the sleigh and start delivering some toys or I’m going to revoke your security clearance...

BIG S: YOU WOULDN'T!!!

FEVER: Like Hell I wouldn't! Look, S, I understand that MTV and popular culture in general are ruining the sensible tastes of today’s kids. But that doesn't change the FACT that you've got a job to do. I figure, you gotta at least try man.

BIG S: But, Doc, 'The Fear' man..it's paralyzing me.

FEVER: To hell with 'The Fear' man. Just get out there and deliver the toys! Take a chance! Hell, at least you don't have to go through airport security. Think about the poor saps that have to do that EVERYDAY. Come on man, get your fat ass moving. Times is a-wastin’.

Apparently this was all Big S needed to hear. He leapt up, snagged my rum for company (shifty bastard!) and ran to his sleigh, laughing his jolly laugh the whole way.

Having saved Christmas, I went back to watching 'The Godfather 2', snagged another bottle of rum from the cabinet and tried to brainstorm some ideas for another rant...damn this writers block!
 

{End Transmission}

Questions, Comments and stupid reasons why Courtney didn't kill Kurt (HAHAHAHA) should be emailed to:  PureRockFury@antimusic.net
 
 

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