Stories: The Night Before P-Day
Displaying 1 - 1 of 1 -- Add Story
| The Night Before P-Day | 01 Oct 2003 |
| Twas the Night Before P-Day By Josh Harding Twas the night before P-day, and all through the pad Not a squito was stirring And thats nowhere, dad. The Elders were snuggled All tight hind their desks Thinking of Hot Dogs And popping their necks. I in my nametag, shirt, tie and slacks; Had just settled down for a post lunchtime fax When, out in the courtyard, there rose such a squeal, I sprang to the window to see What was the deal. A Mercedez Benz: black, sleek and new Left skids on the ground as in the yard it flew. And who to behold fore my eyes did I see? None other than Sasha and his gun-packin Gs. Дяд Sasha was decked out in silk, leather and gold, And a suit that was blinding; hideously bold. His gun-slingin hommies were strutting around Like they owned the whole joint From the roof-tops to ground. I started to pray for the good Lord to smite em With baldness and odors and squitoes to bite them. I hadnt quite finished when a sound I did hear: Старейшина Хардинг! Подойдите! Come here! It was President Monzhos with porcupine hair, So I ran into his office and sat in a chair. With jackhammers pounding a beat on the wall, I couldnt quite catch his Ukrainian drawl. Whats that?! Whats that?! I dont understand!, I shouted to him while waving my hands. He yelled and he screamed; it was really absurd. I just sat there and gawked at him like a bird. Thats all, said he as the hammers went dead. The ringing persisted, although in my head. And I heard very faintly as I walked out of sight: Elder Harding, I expect youll be tracting tonight. The day finished quickly. In two hoots and a tweet, Myself and my comp found ourselves on the street. First to the hot dog stand hasten did we for a Big Dog with may, crab, pickles and cheese. Gobblin our hot dogs, there was no time for nappin. It was off to a D with our Doc Martins a slappin. We got stuck on a bus with a drunk man named Roy. Lucky for me I had my проездной. Then with a FLASH we were ringing a door. (After walking on foot to the 17th floor.) At once, in the doorway, who did appear? But 3 not dressed women, all toting Bear Beer. Politely declining a round of strip twister, We decided to refer this invite to the sisters. The next door was covered with wallpaper brick, and was opened by none other than jolly Дед Ник. Sweat and no shower had left him quite smelly and breeze made him like a bowl full of jelly. His sports suit was orange and blue, striped with red. (So putrid, I wouldnt be caught in one dead.) Hi, I said, were here to talk about life. But I got no furthur cause then entered his wife. The robe which she wore was bright cherry red And was several shades duller than the hair on her head. Какоe имя у Бога? she loudly orated. Его зовут Фёдр. I most cleverly stated. Jehovahs his name, but a few will be saved! She shrieked as she flipped through her Bible, page by page. Only one hundred and forty four thousand! Thats all! Her voiced echoed distinctly through the white-wash-ed hall. Yes, honey. Thats lovely, jolly Nick undermined. How would you boys like some домашный moonshine? Moonshine? No thank you. But we have a book! Well give it here forthwith and lets have a look. Книга Мормона. Its got a nice cover. Id like to hear more. Please, come in brothers. We hesitantly entered into his small flat And politely left our shoes by the door on the mat. The TV was blaring some Bolivian soap About some pretty chick and her boyfriend, a goat. So, you boys from the States? so our BRT started. The rest of it turned out to be very retarded. Old Nick was a miner; he worked on the shift. His wife was a JW and really quite miffed. Six months without wage, all he could do was drink. Then howd he buy vodka? was all I could think. His wife he called lady and we called her Olga. She was roughly the size of a 62 Volga. Her legs, lips, and armpits were all terrbly hairy. For a lady of 30, it was really quite scary. We listened to Nick as he told about mines: the dark and the dank and the massive combines. Olga was restless and sat with her Book With a Im-ready-to-bash-with-you-now-Nazi look. We talked and we bashed til near 9:15. My comp was zonked out on the couch in a dream. We really must go, I insisted in haste. To get home before 10, itll be quite a race. But we havent had tea! they started to say. Just have one cup, to drink on the way. Im sorry, I said, but we only drink water. Too bad. Then they added, Will you marry our daughter? She is over next door having a party. Its just begun. Your not even tardy! Arent Ukrainian girls pretty? Just look at my wife! It was then that I began to fear for my life. I elbowed my comp and edged toward the door, picking my shoes up off of the floor. I heard them calling as we ran into the night, Come back next Tuesday! And have a good night. | |
| Josh Harding | Send Email |