Hall of Fame
True Love: Hey baby, I know it’s not Christmas yet, but I’m just too excited, I have to give you this now. It’s a pear tree! And a partridge!
Yeah, I can see that. Umm, it’s very sweet and all, but I live in a one-bedroom apartment. Where am I going to put a tree, complete with the most random bird ever? What do partridges even eat? Oh, don’t do that lip quiver thing. It’s sweet, really. Thank you. I appreciate the creativity. I’ll somehow make room in my urban chic apartment for a goddamn tree. No problem.
True Love: Babe? Remember how I gave you that tree yesterday?
The one now blocking our view of the TV? Yeah, I remember the tree.
True Love: Well, I got you something to go with it. Turtle doves!
Huh. You know, most guys give their girlfriends chocolate covered-turtles, but turtle doves. Just put them in the tree, I guess.
True Love: Babe?
Sorry, I can’t hear you over the squacking birds. WHAT?
True Love: I GOT YOU A PRESENT! FRENCH HENS!
*Mumbles* Were you dropped on your head?
True Love: WHAT?!? I CAN’T HEAR YOU! YOUR LOVE BIRDS ARE SINGING WITH JOY!
ARE THE HENS DEAD? ARE YOU GOING TO COOK THEM? THEY’RE ALIVE? JUST PUT THEM BY THE TREE, I’M GOING OUT WITH THE GIRLS. CAN YOU FEED THE PARTRIDGE WHILE I’M OUT?
True Love: Babe?
What the fuck kind of bird is it this time?
True Love: Colly birds! Look!
What’s a colly bird? I never even heard of that. I actually always thought it was a “calling bird” until I googled it to write this piece about what an asshole you are for buying all my gifts at a county fair instead of getting me a Teddy bear clutching a box of chocolates like a normal boyfriend.
Now don’t be fooled, the man may have just whipped out five little jewelry boxes, but this is only to distract me from what he has planned.
Oh, so those rings were just a reprieve? Did Farmer Brown run out of birds for a day? The 10 various birds weren’t enough, you’re right. We totally needed some geese a-laying up in this crib. It really adds to the ambience. And when I chop those hens’ heads off in a moment of sheer mental collapse, we’ll have some nice goose eggs to go along with the meal.
True Love: Babe? Can you start running the tub? I have to go get your seventh day of Christmas gift from the pick-up truck that I hitchhiked a ride in. I might need help getting these swans off the elevator if you could put on some shoes and come out when the tub’s full.
You know, you were almost on to something with this one, but you fucked it up. Think we could return these milking maids for ones that do more traditional maid-like shit, like clean the apartment, for example? There’s bird shit everywhere. Unless birds are milkable, these bitches are pretty useless.
This is where the five golden rings come back into play. True love knows I’m going to be texting all my girlfriends and mom photos of the rings. I’ll be distracted googling each one to see how much it’s worth. While I’m busy with the bling, enter dancers. Who gives their woman ladies dancing for Christmas? Sure, there’s some girls who would welcome the gift of strippers, but they’re probably not the same type of gal you would give pear trees to.
Wait. Who are these dudes? Why are they jumping? Can they not jump? True Love, we have downstairs neighbors who are already less than thrilled about the constant sound of bird feet on their ceiling. Can you make the freaks stop jumping? What? Leaping you say? WHATEVER THE FUCK IT IS THEY’RE DOING, THEY’RE STARTING TO WAKE UP ALL THE BIRDS AND I JUST GOT THEM TO STOP SQUAWKING!
What’s up with the hippies? Pass that pipe, bro. These birds are driving me insane. Anyone want Taco Bell?
This is just what we need. We got more birds up in here than an observatory, a tree in the middle of the apartment, some maids who don’t seem qualified to do anything other than milk and we have no mammals to milk, some freaks jumping, a bunch of strippers, hippies fishbowling the bathroom and now we have 'Drumline' in the kitchen.
You know what? You keep the apartment and your gifts, True Love, I’m going to my mother’s. I’d rather put up with her guilt trips than have another stripper put her glitter and feather covered ass in my face. I would take the rings, but it seems one of the geese-a-laying thought they looked delicious. Don’t forget to feed the partridge. Merry fucking Christmas, jerk.