What's Cooking?

The family wasn’t planning on driving this Labor Day weekend. Sitting stuck in traffic on the Bay Bridge to the Eastern Shore of Maryland for a couple of hours loses its fun after several years.

However, I was awakened on Saturday morning very early, earlier than even a rooster gets up. First Son wanted to—had to—go to the beach and convinced his father, Mad Hatter, that we would beat the traffic if we went NOW. I admit the drive was easy-peasey.

The plan -- brilliant in its simplicity. First Son and Girlfriend would drop us off at the house, which is 30 miles from Ocean City, and they would go spend a few hours at the beach. Mad Hatter had to edit many things and wanted to stay in the house, and I just wanted to relax and read. I do like the beach, really. It’s great—except for the sand, the crowds, the sun, that shark. Oh, ok. It was just one time long ago but post traumatic stress, you know?

Anyway all went according to plan. Then it occurred to me after a couple of hours that I should go and see what was available in the kitchen for dinner. There was…nothing. We haven’t been here in a while and hadn't stop at a store since we were beating that darn traffic, after all. Two thoughts, apparently, were one too many for me at that hour. Now I found myself in a house, miles away from town and no car. But Mad Hatter smiled, patted my arm and told me that he had thought ahead. He had brought supplies.

I should have remembered that I live in Alice world.

MAD HATTER  (taking out the goodies):  See? Here’s the stuff.

ALICE: What, this? I can’t even begin to…

MAD HATTER: Thank me, I know. You’re welcome!

The “recipe” for the evening: One can of black beans. One can of chicken soup with matzoballs. One small jar of artichoke hearts. One tin of deviled ham. One tin of chicken spread. 

What would Julia Child have done? Well, aside from slathering butter over everything. And drinking wine. Lots. Then what? Maybe I could just dump it all together and shape it into some sort of loaf and call it bon appétit!

Or, I could make it fun! We could pretend we’re at a Mystery Theater dinner. Except there wouldn’t be actors walking around asking us to guess who done it. The mystery?  Who keels over first from this culinary mashup.

Did we eat any of this? Of course not! We went out to dinner, after we dealt with a little problem First Son brought home.

FIRST SON: Hey, guys, sorry, but I wasn’t paying attention and you know that little red light that shows if the car is really low on gas?

US: Yeah, why?

FIRST SON: It’s on. But don’t worry. I think we can make the 17 miles to the nearest station. It’ll be like an adventure, right?

What would Julia Child have done?

#fridayflash - Press Goodbye

Just the two of us in the elevator. Good, easier to keep my heartbreak private. Piped music wafts from the speakers and fills the silence. I am struck by familiar thoughts of how to make myself feel better. I blame it on the tango.

How appropriate that the ludicrous Musak rendition of Adiós Muchachos fills the cubicle as she and I are falling to the first floor on the express. We are saying the final adios after two years of togetherness. One week ago, while folding the laundry, she confessed that while she “cares for me and always will” things have been changing for too long.

“We argue about nothing important,” she said.

I agreed. We were really good at hitting the wrong buttons, and exhausting our patience. But I want to make this work, I told her. I need time.

Well, the clock is not ticking anymore.

There’s another guy, she said, and asked me to move out. Unfortunately, we share too many friends who arrange too many parties too frequently. What about our poker nights? Our ultimate Frisbee games? The camping? She insisted she had no problem with seeing me at any of these gatherings. We were friends at the beginning, and we can keep up the friendship. Ok? This, however, is not ok nor enough for me. Go back to square one? No. I stopped her hands from picking up another piece of clothing.

“Look at me,” I said. “I can’t live like that. I can’t see you at Jason’s house or Leanne’s apartment or at anybody else’s place and just pretend that it doesn’t affect me. Especially if you bring…him.”

She pulled away and walked to the other end of the room.

“Then, we have to arrange something. Maybe our friends can invite us to different things.” she said.

“You want us to share custody of our friends?”

“If you want to call it that.”

People fight over children, over pets, over property. What would a judge rule in our case? I laughed at the absurdity.

I picked up my keys and walked to the front door. I knew she needed me to tell her something that would settle everything. She waited, probably nervous that I would beg her to stay.

“It’s best that we never see each other again.”

I saw sadness. I saw guilt. But I also saw the quick glint of relief in her eyes.

I turned away, and stepped out into the daylight.

We have spent this week emptying the apartment and moving my stuff to a new place. Many nights I walked from the living room futon to look at the bed we once shared with great excitement. She is never home at night, but I will not sleep in the bedroom by myself.

This last elevator ride is to be my final memory of her. She smiles. I know she is grateful that I have kept it friendly during this week of packing. Well, I have always been known as a good guy, too good, if you ask my male friends. My seemingly civilized acceptance of what I call The Betrayal, and she calls Fate, is what allows her to laugh and finally make small talk with me in unconcerned relaxation as we ride to the end. I hand her my copy of the keys and think about how happy I was when I first used them.

“Do you remember when we would go dancing on Friday nights? And how we always promised ourselves that we would learn how to dance the tango?” I ask while keeping an eye on the descending numbers. I do not have much time.

Her grey eyes look at me, and she nods. I push her dark bangs away from her face and place a kiss on her forehead. I always did this every morning before the elevator reached the lobby floor. She does not flinch this time. That is her goodbye gift to me.

We pass the fifth floor and I give her mine. I wrap my arms around her and hug her tightly. She gasps. She always does this whenever I give her what she calls my Papa Bear hugs. I am not sad, just resigned.

“Goodbye,” I whisper as we reach the ground floor and the elevator stops.

She stares at me with wide eyes. Does she regret her choice? Does she now wish she had not fallen in love with someone else?

No matter. There is no turning back for us.

The doors open and I walk into the empty lobby. I look back at her. She has slid down the wall and sits on the floor of the elevator, eyes still wide. Her white blouse is soaked with the red of the blood that seeps from her back.

I know the knife lodged deep between her shoulder blades has everything to do with that.

I turn away, and step out into the darkness.

No, I do not C

Alice was at odds and ends. She was waiting for Something to Happen, though she knew that it has been said that people shouldn't wait for such a thing, people should make it so. Yes, she knew that. However, she decided to just wait for Something to Happen.

She wanted fun, she wanted adventure, she wanted fate to step in and show her the way to the good life. She wanted to not have to clean the place. What she got was an email from her friend, whom she hadn't seen in several weeks. Her friend didn't write any news about her family or her art or her loves. Her friend didn't write anything; she just forwarded a chain email. Alice was number four on the chain.

Money Goddess

This is a Money Goddess Lakshimi. Pass it to 6 of your good friends, or family and be rich in 4 Days.

Pass it to 12 of your good friends or family and be rich in 2 Days.

I am not joking. You will find an unexpected windfall. If you delete it, you will never know!

SHE WORKS SHE REALLY WORKS

Alice could not believe that her friend — just call her Daffy — would send her such a missive. She telephoned.

DAFFY: Alice! I was just thinking of you. Did you get my...

ALICE: Yes, and what the hell, don't tell me you believe such nonsense!

DAFFY: Ordinarily not, but my friend in France, you know, the one who went for a week then broke her ankle and met the carpenter who had left the box on the ground that tripped...

ALICE: DAFFY!

DAFFY: Right. Anyway she sent it to me after getting it from the nurse who always blows milk bubbles for the children while they shiver in the cold office...

ALICE: Once again, DAFFY!

DAFFY: Right. So I sent it along to 12 people because I want this business to be over in 2 days.

ALICE: 2 days. You expect to be rich in 2 days.

DAFFY: She works, Alice, she really works!

ALICE: And you know this, how?

DAFFY: That's what my friend in France said.

ALICE: Oh, is she rich yet?

DAFFY: Noooo. But that's because she's only sent it to 6 people so it will take 4 days before she sees the results.

ALICE: I'm deleting it, Daffy.

DAFFY: You're making a big mistake! Just think. If you do this, you won't have to look for a job.

ALICE: Already deleted!

DAFFY: ALICE! Now you'll never know what could've come your way!

High winds and violent rain. That's what was coming. Alice heard on the radio that the Rabbit Hole was under a tornado alert. She went out to the balcony to bring in the yoga ball and the bicycle, and thought that given the circumstances, it wouldn't surprise her to look out the window and . . .

Not Lakshimi. No. It wouldn't be her.

Eat Me, Drink Me

A dinner party. Alice was looking forward to the dinner party. Well, that's what she told herself. Mad Hatter had invited two people to share a meal, and even though he didn't tell Alice until a few hours before the guests were to arrive, and even though it was very hot and too humid down the rabbit hole, she was game and didn't really mind using the oven. But then Mad Hatter told her that it had to be simple because one of the guests – the male one – had strict medical orders to eat with consideration for his newly unblocked arteries.

Wow, Alice thought, this dinner party needs to be renamed to...well, just dinner; the word “party” wouldn't have a place at this table. But she was game. So she baked rather than fried, and made sure there were plenty of roasted vegetables, salad, fruit, and polenta. She added spices rather than salt, and did everything she could to titillate the taste buds with all that taste buds needed for titillation, for umami.

The guests arrived and brought lots of wine and cheese, and pâté. Well, maybe a party was on!

They refused to eat or drink any of it.

Or not.

They also didn’t eat any of the food that Alice prepared, except for the salad. And they only drank water. The male guest told her that he was not allowed to eat: meat, cheese, bread, sugar, salt, blah, blah, or drink: wine, soda, coffee, tea, blah, blah.

Mad Hatter ate all the pâté and the cheese so he wasn’t hungry when the actual meal was served and only ate some fruit.

The guests didn’t eat, but they did talk. They discussed a friend who had married a much older man; they felt she was a prisoner in her new life as wife to a professor who was only interested in hunting for mushrooms. That was all he did during his leisure. That was all he talked about at their dinner parties ...er... at those moments when he sat at a table with them in the evening and edible things were on the table.

FEMALE GUEST: Why did Martha marry him? I mean, after all, it’s not as if there’s any sex going on!
MALE GUEST: Yes. Yes. No sex, just hunting for mushrooms and --
FEMALE GUEST: AND did you ever see the mushrooms he brings as gifts? The ones he's picked? Aside from making me worried that we'll be poisoned, they look like. . .like . . . CACA!

Alice, who was eating decided she wasn't hungry after all.

ALICE: Well, maybe she's in love.
FEMALE GUEST: Love? No! How can you love someone who can’t blow up the balloon?
ALICE: What?
MALE GUEST: Also, he’s not attractive. Rather rectangular and looks as ugly as a homemade fence.
MAD HATTER: What are you people talking about?

So on a very hot and humid evening, Alice was sitting at her little dinner party that didn't really involve dinner, or a party. But she learned plenty about Martha and her unattractive, rectangular Mushroom Man who, while not good with balloons, could put a pig to shame as he elbows his way to the front of the line and digs, digs, digs deep in the woods.

Curiouser and curiouser.

“Drink is the curse of the land. It makes you fight with your neighbor.It makes you shoot at your landlord and it makes you miss him.”

While sitting – and waiting – for an appointment, Alice picks up a magazine from the metal shelf in the room. Another five minutes. Alice is now sitting, waiting, and reading about the uses of elderberry wine. One could drink it or better yet, according to the article, one should use it as a face wash. . . with rosewater.

Apparently, this is an ancient way of keeping one’s face youthful. Well, Alice doesn’t really follow beauty trends, especially here in the rabbit hole where things generally have an unusual look. But she does find herself in a liquor store one afternoon and remembers the article. No sooner does she walk into the wine section than an employee looks her over, decides that she knows nothing about booze (unlike Alice’s sister, Not Alice, who knows everything ... well that’s neither here nor there) and offers his help.

EMPLOYEE: What can I do you for?

ALICE: That doesn’t make sense, you know. But if you are asking do I need help in finding something then, yes, it’s elderberry wine.

EMPLOYEE: What? Elderberry wine? Well, if we have any it would be found way over on the other side of the store. So, go there.

Once there, another helpful employee approaches Alice.

ALICE: Please. You cannot do me for. I want to see a bottle of elderberry wine.

EMPLOYEE #2: Elderberry wine? Well, if we have any, it would be found way over on the other side of the store. So, go there.

ALICE: Very amusing. Your colleague over there has just sent me here to find the wine. But I do like your shtick. The two of you have worked it out well. Vegas beckons.

EMPLOYEE #2: Oh. Well, let’s see. What kind of wine is it? Elderberry wine? What is it made of?

ALICE: Elderberry. Which is a surprise, I know.

EMPLOYEE #2: Well, I don’t know anything about it.

ALICE: Sorry. I just thought you would have been some sort of sommelier, you know?

EMPLOYEE #2: Some-a-what?

ALICE: Well. Wine expert. That’s what I need right now, but never mind.

The store’s manager comes up to them and announces that they do not carry elderberry wine.

MANAGER: Why it’s been years since I’ve seen that wine. Your best bet is to travel to the South. One of the stores in the South might carry it.

ALICE: I see. A store in the South. Any particular place in the South?

MANAGER: Well. Um. Well, not really. I just think. . . everywhere.

ALICE: Alrighty. Thanks for your help.

MANAGER: Wait! There’s a better idea, though. You could make it. Make your own elderberry wine!

ALICE: I see. Just go to the South, and make wine.

MANAGER: Yeah. That’s my advice. Go and make your own elderberry wine. Glad to have helped.




As Alice leaves the store EMPLOYEE #2 is admiring the manager for his wine expertise.

EMPLOYEE #2: Why, Tom, you’re a regular some-a-something. MISS! What is that s word again?

ALICE: Somnambulist.

EMPLOYEE #2: Yep, that’s it! You’re just a somnambulist, and don’t you know it.

MANAGER: Well, yeah, I try.

à la carte

Alice’s sister, Not Alice, had taken a vow of silence. At least until her sore throat and laryngitis pack their bags and move away from her.

Since she couldn’t spend some time gossiping with her sister, Alice decided to take an hour and study her French language tapes. She had reached a really good point in the lessons. It seems that a man had knocked on a woman’s hotel room door and after she told him to entrez, he did. He looked around, smiled, and asked her that very important question.

FRENCH MAN: Where is your husband?

Of course this was in French, but Alice knew enough to know what was up!

FRENCH WOMAN: I don’t know. Where is your wife? By the way, who are you?

FRENCH MAN: I don’t know. About my wife, I mean. I am Mr. Jones.

Now Alice was a bit bored by the exchange. Would she really ever need to know how to ask a stranger in France where his. . . well, maybe.

FRENCH WOMAN: Do you want to go to a restaurant with me?

FRENCH MAN: Nah. I want to stay here and...you.

No, that’s not he said.

At the restaurant, the waiter came over and asked for their drink order.

WAITER: Would you like to drink some beer, or some wine?

FRENCH MAN: Well, my dear, would you like to drink some wine? White or red?

FRENCH WOMAN: I will have tea.

Alice thought that was an odd thing to want to drink in a posh restaurant, especially at 11:00 p.m. But she realized that the tapes were teaching her how to ask for things, and not meant to be a torrid story about illicit trysts.

Though she was sure that she would go for the wine. That is, if she ever found herself in a restaurant in France with a man who had misplaced his wife. And if she had no idea where…nevermind.

FRENCH MAN: Tea? Mais non. You must have some wine!

FRENCH WOMAN: No! I do not want wine! I want tea!

WAITER: Tea for madame, oui. And you, monsieur?

FRENCH MAN: I will have, attendez! Is that not your husband? Coming into the restaurant?

FRENCH WOMAN: Why yes, and he is with a woman?

FRENCH MAN: That is my wife!

Ooh la la, Alice thought. Things are getting good! These tapes were worth the money. There’ll be bitch slapping!

TEACHER’S VOICE: This is the end of lesson 18.

ALICE: Nooooo!

She immediately checked ahead to lesson 19 to find out if the police had to get involved but, no, it was all about travel, shopping, and finding out train schedules.

Oh well. If Alice ever found herself in France, and she had studied really diligently, she could look at a handsome stranger and ask him in her most sultry voice, quelle est la bonne route à Paris?

Merde.

Tra La La

Alice and the Mad Hatter spent several days visiting a family friend who can only be called Madder Hatter. She is 81 years old and very slim, very feisty . . . alright, difficult would be more correct . . . and when her light green gaze is aimed at another – as Alice learned quickly – one must accept that, yes, Madder Hatter is the boss of you.

One very warm and golden afternoon, Mad Hatter told Alice that they were all going into town to eat lunch in a diner. A diner? How could that be? Madder Hatter was accustomed to having maids cook and clean; she would go into her kitchen for three reasons only: to get ice, to insist that dinner not be served until after sunset, and to warn that any red meat served should be as rare as one can get away with before being labeled a cannibal. Why, she had never been to town, it being the place where her driver would go to buy her newspapers. So Mad Hatter was proposing that the very first time she was taken to town, it would be to a diner?

More relevant: Madder Hatter never ate lunch.

However, the three of them rode to this new little place that the gardener had recommended because Mad and Madder Hatters wanted a hot dog.

WAITER: Something to drink?
MADDER HATTER: Bring me a tall glass of ice.
WAITER: Yes, but what’s the drink?
MADDER HATTER: That’s all I need. Now just go away . . . I mean . . . carry on and do what you do.

She flapped her right hand at him and Alice wasn't sure but it did seem to her that the waiter did not love being shooed away by a customer. Perhaps it was the way he pointed a finger at Madder Hatter when she looked away that gave Alice this insight. It wasn't the ring, pinky, or index finger. Nor was it the thumb.

When the waiter returned with a large tray in his hands, and irritation in his eyes, Madder Hatter rummaged in her large bag and brought out a cup. Once, it had belonged to her oldest son.




She filled the cup with ice and then put her hand back into her bag and brought out a small bottle of vodka. After pouring out the proper, well her proper amount, she took the lemon from Alice’s water glass and twisted the peel, took a drink, sighed contentedly, and proceeded to eat.

Alice had a bad feeling. After all, it was only two o’clock in the afternoon. A quick look to her right confirmed her worriment that the staff had been watching. They were whispering and pointing to the table, probably saying something like, “What! That crazy old bitch is getting sloshed at our little diner! And not even paying for it!”

Madder Hatter drank about four cups of her vodka throughout the lunch. Well, to be fair, it was a little cup. Though to be unfair, it had been full strength, even with the ice. No tonic or dry vermouth for her! To be fair again, she did share with Mad Hatter.

While they waited for the bill, Madder Hatter began to talk to Mad Hatter about her newest little grandson who loved to sing.

MAD HATTER: Ah, what does the little angel like to sing?
MADDER HATTER: He loves the old songs.
ALICE: What old songs?
MADDER HATTER: You know, like Irving Berlin songs.
MAD HATTER: Splendid!
ALICE: Irving Berlin? How old is your grandson?
MADDER HATTER: He is four and his most favorite song is This is the Army, Mr. Jones.
ALICE: Uh. What?
MADDER HATTER *leaning toward Mad Hatter*: We all have been selected from city and from farm.
MAD HATTER: They asked us lots of questions, they jabbed us in the arm.

Alice became very alarmed because their singing had stopped conversation in the diner, and the irritated waiter was bringing the check.

IRRITATED WAITER: Will there be anything else?
MADDER HATTER: We stood there at attention, our faces turning red.
IRRITATED WAITER: O.K. nothing else. Pay in front. Thank you for leaving. Now and quickly.
MAD HATTER: The sergeant looked us over and this is what he said:
ALICE: Alrighty. Shall I take this over and pay the bill and we can just go back to the house and you both can take a nice little nap and . . . .
MAD AND MADDER HATTERS: This is the Army, Mister Jones. No private rooms or telephones. You had your breakfast in bed before, BUT YOU WON'T HAVE IT THERE ANY MORE!

So there it is. Lunch in town. Lyrics courtesy of Irving Berlin (1943). Singing courtesy of vodka and a baby silver cup.

Now if you're ready, Oysters, dear

Alice’s sister, who is named Not Alice, came to visit for a few days and wanted to spend everyday walking and seeing the tourist sights in the rabbit hole. Alice doesn’t really like to say no to Not Alice. Maybe because Not Alice considers Alice’s no to mean oh yes, absolutely, please let’s!

NOT ALICE: Oh, look! Paddleboats! Let’s rent a paddleboat!

ALICE: Oh, look! Paddleboats! Let’s not rent a paddleboat!

NOT ALICE: Come on! It’ll be fun. We can just drift around and see everything and get exercise and it will be a new thing to do.

ALICE: Well, I don’t really swim so it wouldn't be fun for me. I’d be worried that something would happen. Like drowning.

NOT ALICE: You can’t swim?

ALICE: No. Not really.

NOT ALICE: Let’s rent a paddleboat!

O.K. So it's not too hard to guess where Alice found herself in a few moments.






At first, Alice was apprehensive, especially when once they were well away from the dock, Not Alice wondered how one “steers” the boat. Alice begged Not Alice to make sure not to crash against anything including bridges, seawalls, other paddleboats, fish, birds, the Loch Ness monster, etc.

NOT ALICE: Well, you certainly take the fun out of everything.

It did turn out to be a peaceful experience and lovely views. Later on in the evening, Alice was telling the others about how brave she had been to sail the high seas.

MAD HATTER: High seas? The water there is at most two feet deep!

NOT ALICE: Two feet? You could have walked around if you had fallen out of the boat.

ALICE: Laugh if you must, but I’ve heard that people can drown in a wading pool or a bathtub.

NOT ALICE: You were wearing a life vest.

MAD HATTER: A life vest? And only two feet of water? I really think you have to stop putting yourself in such danger when you go out.

NOT ALICE: Do you want to go climbing on that really steep trail that only a billy goat would love? We could do it tomorrow.

ALICE: It’s supposed to be stormy and windy and rainy and very cold tomorrow.

NOT ALICE: Yeah? So do you want to go?

Alice doesn’t really like to say no to Not Alice.

Time's fun when you're having flies. (Kermit the Frog)

Once upon a time, Alice was very punctual and her days began at the same time every morning, and she was pleased. For many years she was. Then one day, after moving into the rabbit hole, she misplaced the sense of time. Mad Hatter would lose his keys or his glasses as hatters are wont to do, and he would include Alice in looking for them but he never helped her when she needed a search party for her lost time.

MAD HATTER: Have you seen my new glasses? I’ve been looking for hours!
ALICE: Yes.
MAD HATTER: Well? Why didn’t you tell me hours ago. Where are they?
ALICE: On your face.

And so they were.

MAD HATTER: Have you seen the keys to the car? I’ve been looking for hours!
ALICE: Yes.
MAD HATTER: Well? Well?
ALICE: In the ignition.
MAD HATTER: What! But the car is locked!
ALICE: Yes.
MAD HATTER: Now what?
ALICE: What time is it?

It never was the time it was supposed to be. Mad Hatter would tell Alice one night that they were going to drive somewhere the next morning and they would be leaving at 10:30 a.m. But at 8 a.m., Mad Hatter would come into the room and announce that they were heading out in half an hour.

ALICE: But that would make it only 8:30 and you had said 10:30. I’m not ready.
MAD HATTER: Well, I thought about it and I changed my mind. Now don't think that it's just because I can get a Nathan's hot dog sooner. Oh, no. 8:30 is just infinitely superior to 10:30.
ALICE: I see.
MAD HATTER: Just pretend that it’s 10:00 and we’re leaving in half an hour.

As Alice packed, she pretended that it was many years later (alright, not that many actually) and that Mad Hatter was no longer among the living.

Last week, Alice returned from a trip abroad and learned that it wasn’t the time she thought it was because the country had sprung forward. She had forgotten about that so all her clocks were off by one hour. And she couldn’t consult the White Rabbit because all he ever told her was that it was late.

So imagine Alice’s relief when she found a clock, a perfect clock.



At last Alice has found her sense of time and it is perfectly suited for her life in the rabbit hole. And she is pleased.

A Xmas Tale

Several days ago, Alice was browsing in a Gap store in the Eastern Shore. Holiday music was playing, shoppers were waiting in line to pay for discounted items, and several store employees were standing near the door looking out at something and ignoring the customers. Alice joined the group at the door and looked and saw nothing particularly interesting. She was standing near a male Gapster who was rather – how to explain – oh, yes, rather flamboyant, and asked him what was up.

FLAMBOYANT GAPSTER: Oh, sweetie, wait for it. It’s hilarious! Wait! Here he comes!

A short rotund man, with a look of George Costanza on Seinfield but attired as Santa Claus, opened the door and began screaming HO HO HOs. He was accompanied by two young females who were wearing outfits that called to mind army nurse corps olive drab uniform, circa 1943.

How cute. Christmas and Halloween on a date.

The women stood next to Santa George, stoic and unsmiling. Santa, however, was screaming and laughing. He walked over to a woman who was probably in her 80s.

SANTA: WELL! WERE YOU A GOOD LITTLE GIRL THIS YEAR?

“No,” she said. “I was really very bad. And I don’t care!”

SANTA: EXCELLENT!

FLAMBOYANT GAPSTER: He cracks me up! He was here this morning and he just doesn’t listen to what anybody says. He just screams and doesn’t even hand out a stupid candy cane or nothing. Then he goes to the other stores. He’ll come back before closing time and I think that I'll tackle him to the ground! That’ll be funny, right?

ALICE: Uh, no, not really.

FLAMBOYANT GAPSTER: Unless he gives me a present. Then I won’t hurt him.

Alice thought of what kind of present Santa George would hand over.





FLAMBOYANT GAPSTER: I just know what you’re thinking! But if that happens, I’ll just ask my dad to get me everything on my list and I’ll use the coal to do something really cool.




FLAMBOYANT GAPSTER: So, whadda think, huh?

ALICE: That's great, actually. You know. When life hands you lemons...yada, yada.

FLAMBOYANT GAPSTER: Lemons? Nah, you don't get it, dude, do you? Santa's not gonna give me lemons, he. . .

ALICE: Never mind.