Feb 8 2014

Krampus comes back from college for Christmas

“Ma, I’m home!”

“I’m in the kitchen, Krampus! Come give your mom a hug.”

“Maaaaa!”

“You know the rules, Krampus–no hugs, no dinner.”

Krampus lumbered into the kitchen, dumped his bags on the floor, and limply hugged his mother.

“Hey, ma, I brought a friend home from college. This is Nick. Nick, this is my ma, Hel.”

A young man with a cherubic face, wispy beard and a bright red coat stepped forward.

“How do you do, Mrs. Hel?” he asked sweetly. “I brought you some taffy.”

“Oh, don’t you have nice manners?” she asked, giving a sidelong glance at her son. “Now sit down, you two. I’ve been cooking all day. I hope you like goat, Nicholas.”

“That would be great,” he said with a wink.

Hel soon filled the table with roast goat, potatoes, cabbage,  and lutefisk.

“I suppose you would like some mead, Nicholas?” Hel asked.

“Actually I would love some milk if you have it, Mrs. Hel,” Nick smiled.

Hel looked at him quizzically, then turned to pull a crock of goat milk out of the cooler.

After the drinks were served the two young men tore into dinner like they were starving, much to the matriarch’s approval.

“Surely you’re not done, Nicholas?”

Hel looked sadly at his empty plate, then at him.

“Oh, I couldn’t,” Nick started.

“Young boys need to eat,” Hel stated emphatically.

“If you insist,” Nick said with a twinkle and helped himself to another plate, and then another.

“That was the best dinner ever, Mrs. Hel. Thank you.”

“Oh, you!” she gushed as she swept away the dishes into the kitchen.

Krampus gave him a look that suggested maybe he was laying it on a bit thick, but Nick simply patted his very full belly and smiled his big, rosy-cheeked smile.

Hel re-entered the dining room with a huge pie still warm from the oven.

“Sorry it took me so long, Nicholas. These old dead feet aren’t a quick as they used to be.

Nick thought the idiom was quite humorous, though the mention of feet drew his eyes downward. What do you know–her feet really were dead.

“You’ll be having dessert, of course,” Hel stated, not asking.

Nick started to object out of courtesy, looking at Krampus, but then the slice was quickly dished onto his plate. He smiled sweetly at Hel and then beamed smugly at his friend.

“Maybe just a slice,” he said. “Or two.”

After dessert Hel again hauled away the dishes, except for Nick’s dessert plate, still occupied by quickly diminishing survivors of his pie.

“Ma, we’re gonna go upstairs,”

“Not yet, Krampus, we have something to discuss,” she called from the kitchen.

She said ‘discuss’ in that tone women use with men to let them know who will be doing the talking.

“Have you been naughty?” Nick asked cheerily.

“I can’t think of anything…she would have heard of,” Krampus whispered back.

Krampus began to sweat, wracking his brain for what have gotten back to his mom.

After several eternities Hel returned to the table with a piece of parchment.

” I received this letter from the dean,” Krampus’s mother started.

“Look ma, whatever he says–”

“Shut it, young man. He says that you have been caught scaring children, smacking them in the face with that tongue of yours,”

“Wait, Ma, I can explain–”

“Picking them up by their ears–”

“Ma–”

“Furthermore he says that you were observed even beating children–small children–with sticks.”

Here she paused, and looked him straight in the eye.

“Krampus,”

“Ma–”

“Krampus, I am so proud of you!”

“Wait–whut?”

“Krampus, I didn’t know if you would ever be ready to take over the family business! I am so proud of you,” she gushed, holding his wooly cheeks in her hands.

Krampus wiped the sweat from his forehead and breathed an audible sigh of relief.

“Well, you really have Nick to thank. He’s the one who got me in on the racket.”

“What?” asked Hel ecstatically, then she reached over and hugged Nick and kissed him on the cheek. Nick blushed happily to the tips of his ears. Krampus looked like he might be sick.

“So what is this ‘racket?’ Tell me all about it!”

“Krampus and I are partners in holiday retail,” Nick began.

“Yeah, ma, it’s like we’re two sides of the same coin. Nick rewards kids for being good, and I punish kids for being bad. The sticks–those were Nick’s idea, but the tongue–that’s all me!”

The smile faded from Hel’s face. She looked at him quizzically.

“So…the point of this is….”

“So children will be good, of course,” said Nick, smiling happily.

“So…you’re not just terrorizing children with sticks…just because? You want them to be….”

“Good,” Krampus started. “Yeah, isn’t it wild?”

Hel’s demeanor became overcast, the storm quickly gathering.

NO, Krampus! What do you think? I’m the freaking queen of the dishonored undead, and you’re trying to get children to be good?!

Krampus could hear the italics in her voice, and that was never good. His eyes darted around wildly, clueless to how things could have turned so bad so quickly.

“Do you realize how embarrassing this is? I was supposed to lead my armies against Odin at Ragnarok last year and then things went to pieces! I thought the stupid Mayans had miscalculated, or that Helheim wasn’t really recession-proof! But it turns out it was you!

“I thought you were happy that I was smacking the little buggers around!”

“It’s your motive, Krampus! How am I to lead an army of the dishonored dead if you keep trying to reform them before they grow up? Your grampa Loki–”

“Aw, ma, not grampa Loki again,” Krampus began, rolling his eyes.

“Your grampa Loki tricked a blind guy into killing everyone’s best friend with a flipping twig! And do you know why he did it?”

“Ma–”

“For no other reason than He. Thought. It. Was. Funny!”

Nick started eyeing the door, looking to make a break for it.

Krampus’s  fingers clenched nervously, his lips bunched themselves trying to stay shut, but the words came boiling out anyway.

“Well, I don’t want to end up chained to a rock ’til the end of time!”

Hel got up silently and stalked off into the other room.

For half a minute neither of the freshmen spoke.

“Loki is your grandfather?” Nick asked incredulously.

“Yeah, kind of. Man, I don’t know how that could have gone worse,” sighed Krampus

There was a sudden jangling and before he knew it Hel had come up behind him and clapped his wrists in manacles.

“Come on, Krampus, we’re going to visit your grandparents!”

Nick looked at Krampus, pointed at the exit, and shot through the door like a rocket.

Krampus didn’t need any further encouragement.

“Ma! No! She’s not even my real gramma anyway! I’m out of here!”

“THEN GET OUT!”

“I’M NOT COMING BACK!”

Krampus ran out the door to his friend’s sleigh, there was a crack of leather, the jingle of bells, and they headed off into the sky.

Hel screamed into the night sky.

“WELL GOOD LUCK GETTING OUT OF THOSE CHAINS! GUESS WHOSE INTESTINES THOSE WERE?!”

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Jun 14 2013

Overheard: 14 year old female

“If I had a genie that would be my only wish–a time machine. And maybe money for college.”

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Sep 30 2011

attendance quiz

Back when I was in art school, I served two semesters of hard time in Dr. McDermott’s ‘art in the dark’ (art history) class. I both loathed and loved that class; it was so amazingly hard and fascinating at the same time. McDermott was thoroughly convinced that you could not learn the history of art without learning the history of the world–so he crammed two hours of lecture into one class period every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday. When I got an A in the first semester course, I knew I had really earned it.

One of the things McDermott would do to incentivize attendance and punctuality (and punish those who had yet to develop those qualities) was to give an attendance quiz. He would hawkishly watch the clock until the precise stroke of 8, and then instruct those present to write their name on a piece of paper and hand it to the right to be collected.

One morning seconds after we had passed our papers in, the girl who sat next to me shambled to her seat.

“Dr. McDermott, can I hand in my quiz?”

“No, you may not; the criteria for an attendance quiz is to be present and on time.”

“So it’s like I’m not even here?”

“Correct.”

So she angrily grabbed her things and walked out. Class continued.

I guess she thought she made her point, but really it was her loss: we all took 6-10 pages of handwritten notes each class period over the in-class lecture–testable information not available in the 40 lb textbook.

I’ve heard no one has less sympathy for smokers than ex-smokers; I believe it. I used to be chronically late to everything. Maybe it was Dr. McDermott that helped me break that filthy habit.

I drove 30 miles to park 6 blocks away so I could walk uphill to the far side of the campus and I learned to make it on time.

Consequently, I had no pity for her.

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