Disclaimer from Laywers: I do not own any of the characters portrayed in
this story. I am using them without permission and not for profit so please
find soemone else to sick your lawsuit dogs on.
Disclaimer from people who get offended at stuff: I'm not Jewish, I know
nothing of how Hanukkah works, and hell, before I wrote this story I
couldn't even spell Hanukka. Nothing in the following story is meant in
anyway to be offensive or hurtful to anyone out there. I am not a racist,
biggot or anyother type of trash that would go around insulting someone's
religious preferance. Please do not take ofence at my little peice of
fiction, I wrote it with nothing but good intentions.
Cold Hanukkah
By The Seitz
I should have known.
"Oh! Puddin' look what I found!"
All the warning signs were there, her complete lack of knowledge of anything
remotely Christmassy, her hesitation to go out with the thugs to by me
presents, HER LAST NAME!!!
". . . . . and you can take it and spin in on the table and whatever side
lands face up. . ."
I should have made the connection sooner. I know I'm not the worlds
greatest detective or anything- he doesn't dress with nearly as much style
as I do- but damnit, all of the clues were there. I should have put two and
two together and headed something like this off at the pass.
"Isn't it great Puddin'? Now we can have a traditional Hanukkah just like
when I. . ."
I'm so stupid. It was all there and I didn't even look. Now it's too late
for me to tell Harl that. . . .
"I DON'T GIVE A FLYING RAT'S ASS IF YOU'RE JEWISH OR NOT!!!"
That felt good, hey!!! Flying rats ass. . .that's perfect, I'll have to
remember that one for the next time I go up against Batsy. Now to survey
the damage.
Harley is staring at me, blinking. I can see it, somewhere in that little
ping-pong ball skull of hers she wants to be sad. Please, I pray silently,
let her run weeping from the room. Please lord, if you are a merciful lord,
let her break into tears and go running from the building never to annoy me
again. Pretty please with a cherry-bomb on top. And whip cream and
sprinkles and bananas and Butterfinger toping? Please, I silently repeat as
I look back towards Harley.
No such luck.
Her face breaks into the smile (you know which kind I'm talking about, the
smile that makes you want to take the ones you most care for and love and
knock their teeth out one by one), THAT smile, and she looks at me.
"Oh Puddin' you're so funny!"
No kidding Sherlock.
"And besides," -good lord, she never even talked this much when she was a
doctor- "just think of how much more important the holiday is going to be
with a guy like the Joker as it's spokesman!"
Great, now I'm Joker, the Santukkah Claus. Santukkah Claus, that's another
good one, I wish I had a pencil. I could be writing this down.
"And look at all the neat stuff we can do. Who needs Christmas? Christmas
only gets one day with presents, Hanukkah has-"
Oh no, she's getting that look in her eye.
"Hanukkah has EIGHT CRAZY NIGHTS!!! Oh Puddin' you gotta hear this song
it's great."
She dashes full speed into our CD collection. Where did I put my gun?
"This song is GREAT Puddin' you'll love it!"
I stop the Great Gun Search to watch her slide a CD into the stereo. Oh
crap she's turning the dial all the way up.
". . .DON'T FOR GET A HARMONICA!!! ON THIS LOVELY LOVELY HANUKKA!!!"
GUN!!! WHERE IS THAT GUN?!
"TELL YOUR FRIEND VERONICA. . . "
AH-HA!!! THERE IT IS!!!
"SO DRINK YOU GIN AND TONIC-A AND SMOKE. . ."
OK, just calm myself, take aim-she's standing right next to the stereo, and.
. . .
BANG!!!!
Wow. I had forgotten stereos exploded like that, wait a sec, damnit, I
forgot I was supposed to shoot Harley! Oh well, maybe next time.
Harley just looks at me, some where in the ping-pong ball she wants to cry.
But she won't though, the cute, tough, crazy little pip. She's a fighter,
but her face says she wants and explanation. And the way her hands are
clenched together tells me I'm not gonna get any sleep until I give her one.
Damn, next time I promise I'll shoot the right one.
"Harley." I say softly.
"Yes Puddin'." She answers with a small whine.
"Harley, I didn't want to do that. . .but is going to be a cold cold
Hanukkah before I ever listen to an Adam Sandler CD."
fin
this story. I am using them without permission and not for profit so please
find soemone else to sick your lawsuit dogs on.
Disclaimer from people who get offended at stuff: I'm not Jewish, I know
nothing of how Hanukkah works, and hell, before I wrote this story I
couldn't even spell Hanukka. Nothing in the following story is meant in
anyway to be offensive or hurtful to anyone out there. I am not a racist,
biggot or anyother type of trash that would go around insulting someone's
religious preferance. Please do not take ofence at my little peice of
fiction, I wrote it with nothing but good intentions.
Cold Hanukkah
By The Seitz
I should have known.
"Oh! Puddin' look what I found!"
All the warning signs were there, her complete lack of knowledge of anything
remotely Christmassy, her hesitation to go out with the thugs to by me
presents, HER LAST NAME!!!
". . . . . and you can take it and spin in on the table and whatever side
lands face up. . ."
I should have made the connection sooner. I know I'm not the worlds
greatest detective or anything- he doesn't dress with nearly as much style
as I do- but damnit, all of the clues were there. I should have put two and
two together and headed something like this off at the pass.
"Isn't it great Puddin'? Now we can have a traditional Hanukkah just like
when I. . ."
I'm so stupid. It was all there and I didn't even look. Now it's too late
for me to tell Harl that. . . .
"I DON'T GIVE A FLYING RAT'S ASS IF YOU'RE JEWISH OR NOT!!!"
That felt good, hey!!! Flying rats ass. . .that's perfect, I'll have to
remember that one for the next time I go up against Batsy. Now to survey
the damage.
Harley is staring at me, blinking. I can see it, somewhere in that little
ping-pong ball skull of hers she wants to be sad. Please, I pray silently,
let her run weeping from the room. Please lord, if you are a merciful lord,
let her break into tears and go running from the building never to annoy me
again. Pretty please with a cherry-bomb on top. And whip cream and
sprinkles and bananas and Butterfinger toping? Please, I silently repeat as
I look back towards Harley.
No such luck.
Her face breaks into the smile (you know which kind I'm talking about, the
smile that makes you want to take the ones you most care for and love and
knock their teeth out one by one), THAT smile, and she looks at me.
"Oh Puddin' you're so funny!"
No kidding Sherlock.
"And besides," -good lord, she never even talked this much when she was a
doctor- "just think of how much more important the holiday is going to be
with a guy like the Joker as it's spokesman!"
Great, now I'm Joker, the Santukkah Claus. Santukkah Claus, that's another
good one, I wish I had a pencil. I could be writing this down.
"And look at all the neat stuff we can do. Who needs Christmas? Christmas
only gets one day with presents, Hanukkah has-"
Oh no, she's getting that look in her eye.
"Hanukkah has EIGHT CRAZY NIGHTS!!! Oh Puddin' you gotta hear this song
it's great."
She dashes full speed into our CD collection. Where did I put my gun?
"This song is GREAT Puddin' you'll love it!"
I stop the Great Gun Search to watch her slide a CD into the stereo. Oh
crap she's turning the dial all the way up.
". . .DON'T FOR GET A HARMONICA!!! ON THIS LOVELY LOVELY HANUKKA!!!"
GUN!!! WHERE IS THAT GUN?!
"TELL YOUR FRIEND VERONICA. . . "
AH-HA!!! THERE IT IS!!!
"SO DRINK YOU GIN AND TONIC-A AND SMOKE. . ."
OK, just calm myself, take aim-she's standing right next to the stereo, and.
. . .
BANG!!!!
Wow. I had forgotten stereos exploded like that, wait a sec, damnit, I
forgot I was supposed to shoot Harley! Oh well, maybe next time.
Harley just looks at me, some where in the ping-pong ball she wants to cry.
But she won't though, the cute, tough, crazy little pip. She's a fighter,
but her face says she wants and explanation. And the way her hands are
clenched together tells me I'm not gonna get any sleep until I give her one.
Damn, next time I promise I'll shoot the right one.
"Harley." I say softly.
"Yes Puddin'." She answers with a small whine.
"Harley, I didn't want to do that. . .but is going to be a cold cold
Hanukkah before I ever listen to an Adam Sandler CD."
fin