Santas, santas everywhere! Santas in the very air!

[fransmasereel]

six-thirty p.m.
Costume intact, I approach the Lager House and nearly topple from the crusty ice caps of the curb back into Michigan Ave. while carrying all my gear. I survive and enter the bar. I look like a pale impression of Casimer, which was the point. I feel like a pale impression of my former self. I am conscious of too much around me,

Comments

[brandonz]

Fucking wonderful, Greg.

[azuki_pie]

I canNOT wait for new years... though I hope the santa's don't show!

[wonderderf]

Stories like yours make me miss Detroit madly.

Glad to hear it was a successful night!

[fransmasereel]

Detroit misses you too, Gary.

[stutterer]

I love this story. I REALLY wish I could have seen Keith's Christmas tree outfit.

You forgot to mention the blood was fake, and used for the purpose of freaking you out!

[fransmasereel]

Yeah, I figured it was best to keep an air of mystery about Keith's blood capsules. It looked so real underneath those damn lights.

[alosha47]

AHH! Don't tell me that the blood was fake! You just ruined the surreal nightmare I was going to have tonight!

[alosha47]

You should write a novel Greg. Seriously. You make things so vivid.
I sympathize with your social difficulties. I was having the same problem that night, except I was surrounded by watercolor portraits of cats, not drunken santas.

[fransmasereel]

1. Thanks, but, as mentioned, I'll have to learn how to make my verb tenses agreeable. Also, I'd have to have a story to write.

2. Watercolor cat portraits? Yikes. Did any of them look like Louis Wain's cats? Some of those are creepy (they'll help along the nightmare).