Monday, December 20, 2004

Boughing To Pressure

Douglas poured himself a Scotch, and gazed wistfully into the broad room, almost unaware, for a moment, of his several guests. "I guess I’m a sap for the holidays," he said, ruminatively. "I still pine for the Old Days, you know."

Ivy sat back on the new sofa, gazing around the room, herself. "I love these new colors."

"Oh... yes," said Douglas, "We tried to spruce the place up a bit. Something called Loblolly or some such. I would have preferred something with a tinge of blue, or maybe a cypress. But, ... even so, I feel that we’re missing something."

Pointed as ever, with tray in hand, Holly said, "Now, darling, we discussed that. Still... I must agree -- something is missing."

Garland stood up and re-filled his own tumbler. "Why not hang something all about, you know. Something festive."

Ivy sat up and clapped her hands. "Oh, do! Something creeping."

Carol piped in, "Green would work ever so well."

"What? Do you mean some sort of vegetation?" asked Douglas.

Fraser, who had been quiet for some time, looked up from his book. "I should think something from the phylum coniferophyta might do nicely, especially this time of year."

"But," said Douglas, "Would that be allowed?"

"Not in public, certainly," said Garland, his elbow on the cedar chest. "But, I should think in the privacy of one’s own home... surely.... Anyhow, who would know?"

Carol sat on the bench, staring forlornly at the piano keys and wondering if she should play.

"Well," said Douglas, looking into his glass, "I should not like the authorities to know of it."

"Oh, now darling," said Holly, "Do be a man! What did those wonderful Gaelic ancestors of yours used to say -- 'Sé misneach arm fir misniúil' - 'A brave man's weapon is his heart' ? You should take a stand and put the axe to the trunk, so to speak. Then, we should ever call you 'Douglas fir'."

"Here, here!" said Garland. "Really, you should Doug. I wager y’ule not regret it."

"Here, here!" said the other guests, raising their glasses.

Douglas set his own glass down resolutely and said. "You're right! By golly Holly, I jolly well will!"

Just then, the chimes rang, and, straightaway, Douglas opened the door.

"Well, if it isn’t the Old Man himself," he said, greeting the newcomer with a beaming smile. "And bearing gifts, too – do come in Klaus."

5 Comments:

Blogger Blue Clinkers said...

Very Strand Magazine . . .

12/20/2004 05:21:00 PM  
Blogger shuggie said...

love it - miles better then the crappy adolescent diaries that clog so much of the web these days.

you may like to check out
http://shuggietirade.blogspot.com/

12/20/2004 05:33:00 PM  
Blogger Remainderman said...

Oh, really, Blue Clinkers, you are too much! The very suggestion that I would read such a periodical.... (Unless, I confess, I were at the strand itself: you know, the flapping booths, the frigid water, the goose-pimpled, alabaster legs -- the whole thing.)

And, don't you know, the scripture tells us that a house built on sand cannot stand. So, I say, pick up your trowel, get a bit or mortar, and I'm sure you'll lay a course of brick towards something far more sound.

Regards.

12/20/2004 09:13:00 PM  
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