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Three [3] More Yuletide Yarns!
It could be that it’s the holidays. Could be that I'm simply tragically lazy and just now got to putting this final piece together. Could be lots of things.
Anyone else wondering why there are so few posts going up on Austinist the last couple of days? Last week? You wondering?
We're all drunk and/or in jail. 'Tis the season, and such.
So, while you wait for more posts on the “hottest ____ of 2007” from your fave Ist writers, here is the second and final set of submissions from the Yule Yarns series. Since they’re so brief, and there are only two of them (I waited as long as I could for a third to round out the lot, but alas, it is not to be), I’m going to mix one of my own in there at the end.
First up, there’s the random non-haiku haiku!
[untitled]By jkass77 (at yahoo dot biz-ommmm for shizzzzommmm)
Christmas stories suck
You’re just not a funny guy.
Stop using the word douche.
Stop using the word douche? Are you serious? How else are we supposed to describe the product-for OR method-by-which-one-cleans: a vagina? Huh?
And a Merry Christmas to you, non-haiku sender!
Then there’s the long-form haiku. I didn’t realize this, but they can go on and on with these things, really. Length isn’t explicitly specified in the design. Like toenails.
Kwanza For ChristmasBy DC
Unwrapping the gifts
And then there’s dreidels spinning
But I see no kwanza.What’s up with Santa
Dude is a rooftop burglar.
Kwanza still absent.Ornaments on trees
And malls full of christmas shit.
Why ignore kwanza?Spotlighting the sky
To blast that red beard guy down.
What’s up with kwanza?
Happy Kwanzaa to you, DC!
In complete honesty, I’ve learned about Kwanzaa (assuming that was the intent behind “Kwanza/kwanza”) on several occasions, but I keep forgetting what it’s all about*. I ‘pedia’d it real quick, and it’s pretty simple, really. Started in the sixties, and its purpose is to celebrate what it means to be an African American in modern society. And there’s “libations” involved, so that’s a nice slice of kickass.
You know, I really don’t have an issue with haikus, per se. They’re an okay form of written expression. But they ARE the Yo Quero Taco Bell dog of the written word world.
And there you have it. Seriously, that’s all the submissions I received. And with the exception of one, they all came from friends of mine! You bunch of haiku monkeys! I really need to refine the motivation process here! The point isn’t to post up a bunch of haikus that friends of mine shat out! Perhaps a contest… with real prizes. Like a live chicken or something.
Next time.
Here’s mine. Again, just to round out the lot.
A Hipstmas Aftermath: Hipstmath
By Me
When Johnny Eyebrows woke up the day after Christmas, he quickly surmised that he had mistaken someone else’s car for his own, which explained why the key didn’t work, even after several dozen failed attempts at cramming it into the lock. It was like middle school all over again. “Good thing, too. I would’ve driven into a pole for sure.” He picked himself up from the shattered-glass-covered vinyl bench seat and took in his surroundings. It appeared to be somewhere in downtown Austin. “Construction time again."
Man, did Eyebrows adore early Depeche Mode.
“Where the fuck is Chuck?” Looking around, still unsure of his location. “Asshole left me down here, he better come scoop me up.” Eyebrows’ cell phone was broken, which probably occurred after a clumsy lamp post had knocked him into a group of bedhanger types sitting out in front of Red Seven, who then launched Eyebrows, repeatedly, into a parking meter before allowing him to crumple between two bumpers. That incident might also explain a bald, damp spot on the left side of his head, and his missing Jellyfish Swatch (classic, of course).
But he did have a Santa hat in his back pocket, thankfully, which he used to dab on his head’s moist patch. “Ho.”
Ten minutes later, he was inside Stubb’s, borrowing their phone. After several failed attempts at remembering Chuck’s number, Eyebrows simply 411’d The Woodland, where Chuck was supposed to be bussing the lunch shift. The bartender put Chuck on.
“Yo, Eyebrows. What it do?”
“What it do? WHAT? IT? DO?”
“Yeah. Hurry up, this shift is killing me.”
“Well, it DOES that I’m still downtown with scabs on my head. You left me here so I had to bust into some strange car just to keep warm. I thought you had my back, kid?”
“You busted into it? YOU?!!”
“Shit yeah! I coulda died out here in the cold you asshole!”
“Nah man. If you woulda died last night, it woulda been me that did the favor. At the end of the night you were crawling around bleeding all over shit so I put a Santa hat on your head to stop the flow, but then you started keying the shit out of my belly button talking about how I wouldn’t ‘open up’. So I body slammed your drunk shit through that car window and left you there. Thought maybe the homeless would taste your ass.”
“That’s cold man. Real cold.”
“My stomach’s all scratched up, and you know my girl isn’t forgiving when it comes to shit like this.”
“Wah-wah. So when are coming to get me? I’m at Stubb’s.”
“Wah-wah. Catch that Metro sleigh.”
The End.
*ditto for Christmas, Thanksgiving, Easter, Groundhog’s Day.
