Captain and Tennille: A Purrrrfect Christmas

            Once upon a time in a large flat off of St Charles Street in New Orleans, LA lived two brothers named Captain and Tennille. They were the coolest cats of the South; known throughout the states as the Davis Brothers. Also they were bandits. Gangsters. Thieves. But they were more loved than hated or feared.

            The Godmother was none other than Kathlebury Daviscio, daytime educator, all the time Mob Mom. The Mob Mom ran a strict, no funny business business. She got a lot, but she expected a lot. And this Christmas Kathelbury was going for gold. Literally.

            The Davis Brothers had their assignment: Hit up the national banks in alphabetical order every other day starting on Monday and ending on Friday, and change up the times by exactly two hours each time.  Then the weekend would bring the grand finale: Jewelry stores.  Get all of the gold, save the diamonds and tacky shit. The black market wasn’t looking to be TOO flashy.  

Kathelbury supplied not only the underworld of New Orleans, but also the North Pole. That’s right: Santa Claus. Sometimes Santa’s elves got a little lazy, and sometimes his elves got a little cheesy. When those times came around, Santa had a hard time getting them to produce nice gifts, and thus left with the only option to outsource. The Mob Mom was all too happy to help.

            The banks were a piece of cake. Monday, Wednesday, and Friday the banks basically just handed over the money to Captain and Tennille. Not even so much as a scream. Then again it was the Davis Brothers. They had their charm and their irresistible stare. Who wouldn’t want to help them??  But when the weekend came, an unexpected turn in the plans occurred. Maybe it was because Captain and Tennille split up instead of sticking together? Maybe Kathelbury had been too relaxed and thought too little of Kay Jewelers’ security? Either way Captain and Tennille both found themselves in a pickle! They were both intersected immediately after breaking in by small, infant-sized beings. First thought was the cops, but Kathelbury had them paid off, and they couldn’t have known ahead of time about the jewelry heist. Both Captain and Tennille were kidnapped! Somehow word must have gotten out about the jewelry stores, and that could only be if there had been a snitch!

            Who could have snitched? It’s not like Kathelbury shared her plans with anyone other than Captain and Tennille, except on the rare occasion she had to turn in a LESSON PLAN!!! FUCK! Santa wanted a fool-proof gig, an outline of how it would play out. Fucking Santa. He would double-cross her, and now he had Captain and Tennille which meant things were now personal.

            Kathelbury boarded her jet. She wasn’t worried about the gold, but she needed to send a message that she wasn’t one to be double-crossed by some fat, old FAIRY TALE! And so she set off to the North Pole.

            As Captain and Tennille sat in their kennels; they laughed. What was this? Amateur hour? You can’t expect cats to be kept in a kennel! Especially not these two. As soon as the Elves were relaxed enough with their guard, the cats were out! BAM! Elves were flying left and right with cat fever! The Davis Brothers signaled Kathelbury about their escape. Kathelbury was sure they would find a way out, but she wanted to personally deliver a message to Old St Nick! 

            Santa was having a gay ole time, sure that he had pulled the best heist in history when all of a sudden the doors to his workshop flew open and a hundred elves went screaming for their lives! “What on Earth?” Santa thought right before Captain and Tennille came flying in kicking ass and slaying elves with hammers and saws they accumulated from the workshop. Now usually captain and Tennille weren’t killers, but these were elves, not much different from a squirrel, right?  

            As the Davis Brothers took out every elf in their way, Kathelbury landed her jet taking out half the workshop. Kathelbury jumped out of the jet with her machine gun and took out every elf she saw; pest control was here. When there were no elves left, Santa was cornered. Captain and Tennille tied him up as Kathelbury approached. She knew she couldn’t take him out completely. Santa was needed even if he had double-crossed her. She took out her pocket blade and right on his fat cheek, she wrote a nice, elaborate “Kay’s!!!” Blood poured down his face and beard as Santa screamed, but he was sure to never forget. The gang left in the jet leaving Santa all alone in a mess of destruction that was once his workshop. They also took not only the gold but all the cat toys too. This was indeed the best Christmas for them yet! All the presents in the world for their pleasure!

            Santa had had a rough day, but he was glad to still be alive. As he went to bed, leaving his worries for another day, he found a Letter to Santa from none other than Kathelbury. It read:

Dear Santa,

            I hope you learned a lesson. Don’t fuck with me or mine.

                                                                                   Merry Christmas!

                                                                                  -The Mob Mom

Wrinkly Pants: a Short Story

Once upon a time there was a pair of wrinkly pants worn by the most fabulous boy ever in the world. Unfortunately the most fabulous boy died in a tragic heat wave from dehydration in the middle of NYC. The wrinkly pants were very sad. Not only had the pants lost their status as being worn by the most fabulous boy, but now they were given to the Salvation Army. The fabulousness would be lost. Used clothes? Never.

One fine day a middle-aged, tacky hoodlum popped into the Salvation Army looking for some U.S. Army garb to wear to work. His occupation was “Homeless Veteran In Need of a Cup of Coffee or work” or so reads his piece of card board. Lewis was his name, and he had no game. Lewis was having no luck finding an entire US Army uniform, but he did find a nice pair of wrinkled pants. They looked so fresh!  And they were just wrinkled enough for his job. He didn't have $5, but he did have a certain set of bargaining skills. He got them for $2. PRAISE JESUS.

The wrinkly pants were NOT having it! What was this? Had they done something wrong? Had he somehow not paid his karma? And then it hit the wrinkly pants: this was the pair’s time to shine, to take a literal bum and make him something of worth! Challenge accepted.

On his first day of “work” with his new wrinkly pants, Lewis was not making ANY money. No one truly believed he needed a cup of coffee. And honestly Lewis was feeling a little more professional and a little less needy. He was even starting to feel strong and able- like he could be of use. It was at this very moment Lewis threw away his sign and went job hunting.

The wrinkled pants were feeling great! Here they were changing someone’s life for the first time and the pants were loving it. Lewis was now a sales associate at Urban Outfitters making his own money. He fit in so well, and was even promoted to sales lead for the holiday! But honestly the pants were getting bored. They hadn’t been washed in weeks, they were losing shape, and even worse they were wearing out around the ankles. Charity season was over! Lewis had to go. BUH BYE, Lewis.

Lewis was working diligently and folding tee-shirts like most days. Today, however, was not like most days; for one the district manager Jillian was popping in for a visit, and Lewis was up for a promotion if all went well. He was nervous, excited, and very hopeful for a decent future. He even came in two hours early to make sure every item of clothing and retail was in place. He felt like a soccer mom going on a family vacation.

Unfortunately for Lewis, he was too busy worrying about his meeting with his Jillian to pay much attention to his pants. The wrinkly pants were plotting to destroy Lewis. It was time for him to get a new pair of pants to abuse. As Lewis did a walk-through with Jillian, the pants started to slacken, and he was beginning to feel exposed but didn’t want to look down and draw attention to what he feared to be the problem. But sure enough he eventually got to point where he could no longer walk right. The wrinkled pants were now wrinkled below his knees. Without breaking eye-contact with Jillian (who was pretending none of this was happening out of second-hand embarrassment), Lewis quickly pulled up his pants. He realized he couldn't let go of them without them falling, and the wrinkled pants had a broken zipper.  At this point Jillian no longer had the patience to pretend there wasn’t a wardrobe malfunction. She suggested he try a pair of Urban’s pants. Lewis was now a wreck. He shucked the old wrinkly pair of pants and bought a pair of Urban Outfitter’s pants; the new pants did nothing for him. The fit was too tight in his old legs, and too loose around the waist. He didn't like these pants at all. And worst of all he did NOT feel professional. He had had enough! This wasn't the life he wanted! To be folding clothes all day, telling kids what to do, dealing with people who sucked at life? DONE! Lewis came out of the dressing room and walked straight passed Jillian with not so much as a goodbye! He threw the wrinkly pants away, poured some old liquor on top and lit those pants on fire! Lewis wasn’t going to wear some stupid pants from Urban Outfitters! And he wasn’t wearing old, broken-zipper wrinkly pants either! NO MORE PANTS! They screwed with his emotions and made him think he was something he’s not!

As the wrinkly pants burned in that old wire trash can, the pair of pants thought maybe he should have just stopped being pants when the most fabulous boy died.