Ah, shit. It's Christmas again.
Last year, we were in Neil's cabin in the Catskills. This year we're back in the land of clam cakes and quahogs. But it's a sunny day, and, right now, it's 59˚F (feels like 64˚F), with a projected high of 63˚F. But, that's okay, because it's gonna probably snow on Tuesday and kill all this freakish pseudo-spring greenery.
Spooky doesn't like me talking about what big goddamn perverts we are, so I can't tell you about how I was Neko Case and she was Nick Cave. Which is a shame. You'll have to take my word for it.
I cooked a big breakfast for Spooky, and then I gave her her gifts, and then she gave me mine. There's far too much chocolate in this house.
The last dream before waking, I was in the kitchen of a house where I have never lived, me and my mother and Spooky. And outside, the world went white, like the flash of an atom bomb detonating. I rushed outside, and I must have known the house was by the sea. There were people screaming, running, crying, making the noises people make when they're terrified and in pain. And when I looked out to sea I saw a vast waterspout sweeping across the horizon, seeming intent upon devouring the world. It was drawing monstrous things up from the deep, including a
sailfish the color of a bloody sunset and the size of a whale.
And I stood upon the sand of the sea, and saw a beast rise up out of the sea, having seven heads and ten horns, and upon his horns ten crowns, and upon his heads the name of blasphemy. ~ Revelation 13:1
Don't say you weren't warned.
Happy Holidays,
Aunt Beast