Wednesday, December 23, 2015

The Jeremy Crow Christmas Countdown 2015 #3

Well any hope that this is an elaborate practical joke ended when I got on the plane. Holy smokes my husband is mildly amusing with a prank but he couldn’t get his hands on a plane like this. Of course it’s strange that there are dozens of empty seats in this living room of a section, and Joe Biden curled up under a table and went to sleep. Michelle begged me not to wake him up, and that in and of itself was enough to make me not want to do it.

Then we have to admit that we have been flying for an awful long time over the ocean, and a random iceberg here and there are all I have seen out the window. Makes that trip from San Antonio to Manchester I used to go through seem like nothing, but then again I didn’t have a widescreen and satellite TV to catch up on all those TLC shows my husband picks on me about. I hate to admit that he might be right that they get pretty old after a while, especially when stuck in a huge flying tube, regardless of how comfortable it is. Out of the corner of the window I finally see a large land mass all ice and snow which either makes it Antarctica or that portion of Hell that I swore would freeze over before I went on this trip. Same thing I guess.

“You’re not dressed?” Michelle yelped as she came out of the other cabin, all decked out in the designer clothes and open toed shoes that she had picked up for the two of us.

“You were serious about all of that?” I said back. Well I think it was more of a whimper but again this woman does appear to have a sense of humor at all, so I flipped my shoes off and started getting dressed for a holiday party, to walk around in sub freezing weather. I’ve already accepted that these two are going to kill me, this may make it easier. “What are we going to do with him?” I asked while making a thumb gesture at the Vice President.

“I think if we are quiet enough he won’t see us leave,” and again, this woman isn’t a comedian, she’s dead serious. On second thought it might be the best idea today.

“Look I’ve been thinking, if all of those tales of Superdaddyman and the Terrible Old Kids Evil …” I was cut off.

“The Terrorist Organization Known as the Evils’s” she corrected me.

“Ok TOKE,” just to make it easier, “are true then why am I here and they aren’t?”

“Well we can’t find them without the Superdaddyman’s help,” she started, “The FBI suggested looking at their Facebook pages but apparently my idiot husband doesn’t want anyone looking at terrorist’s Facebook pages.”

I was about to ask her if she was kidding, but then remembered, not her style. “Again, why do you two seem to want to help my husband?”

“Hey, your husband isn’t a bad guy. He doesn’t let his whackerdoodle friends attack my looks,” then she looked around to make sure nobody was listening, “He found out that I voted for Ron Paul twice and hasn’t spread it around either, so I have to give him some respect,” well at least she didn’t vote for her husband, so I guess she ain’t all that bad. She has good taste in clothes too, so score two for the first lady.

As we waited for the door to Air Force One to open, I braced myself for the crazy cold that was going to shoot through the door, and I waited, and I waited. Ok the door is wide open and I don’t appear to be freezing to death in my Claiborne jacket and gloves, and the open toed shoes. I tentatively followed Ms. O down the collapsing stairs, still perplexed by the seeming comfort the clothes are giving me. Of course another question entered my mind which from what I remember reading all those stupid Superdaddyman stories never crossed my husband’s mind, “Why aren’t any of those big guys with guns coming along with us, just two women superbly dressed on a quest to save imaginary figures?”

“I told you before they aren’t imaginary, and we can’t just let anyone know that they really exist,” she shakes her head as she stomps along in the ice and snow, acting like I am crazy. Come to think of it maybe I am.

“Why aren’t we freezing to death?” of course that question wasn’t going to last long on my mind.

“Alien technology,” she said again like the answer was just obvious.

“I thought you …” and that thought ended as her hand covered my mouth. Of course I mumbled under her glove for a second until she shooshed me, so I could hear snow and ice crumbling on the other side of what looked at first like a snow dune but on second look was apparently a mountain of mismatched socks. The crumbling sound was coming from behind us actually.

The second Ms. O let go of me she launched into a flawless spin kick and knocked a goofy looking penguin back four or five feet and then pounced on top of him like a cat. “Where are you keeping Santa Claus, penguin?” Of course even after all that has happened to me today my first thought is, penguins can’t talk.

Well it appears that penguins can talk, “He’s at the North Pole you idiot!” the penguin exclaimed before he got a left fist strait in his belly. “Seriously lady, what the Hell do you want? We gave up on Santa snatching when our UUEP memberships expired!”

“Your Union of Unemployed Evil People membership has expired?” the first lady said in a shocked voice and then looked at me, “We should have known this before we were told to go after the penguins, they are notorious for never doing anything without union representation!” … to be continued