THE ANDERCHRONICLES
By Me, Ellee
[WARNING: The following story has been rated FNF*]
*Fiction NOT Fact
*Fiction NOT Fact
[ADDITIONAL WARNING: The Ronald McDonald in the following story is a fake. DO NOT ALLOW YOURSELF TO BE DECEIVED! This is NOT the real Ronald McDonald you know from the world of hamburgers, cheeseburgers, French fries and large Cokes— even though the picture is a spittin' image.]
"How I Spent Christmas Eve With Ronald McDonald"
I sat on the hall floor for a while after Andy walked away. Molly and I just wanted to be together. After all the commotion that had happened during the day, it was nice to be alone. I must have fallen asleep though; all of a sudden I heard singing,
“Here comes Anderclaus, here comes Anderclaus, right down Anderclaus lane, Vitzen and Blitzen and all his reindeer pulling on the reins . . . ”
Gene was still singing in good form after all these years, and Andy’s sound system was spectacular. It was a good thing it woke me up, because it was almost time for me to leave for the evening, to a restaurant of my choice, and I certainly didn’t want to be the cause of any more stress to Andy and his household. I just wanted to slip out unnoticed and dissolve into the night—the Christmas Eve night—alone—by myself—with absolutely NO ONE—AT ALL!—abandoned—solitary—forsaken—forlorn. *little tear dropping* *then another one*
Thirty minutes later, I was on my way to the front door when something caught my eye. I turned—it was Andy. He was walking toward me, in s--l--o--w----m--o--t--i--o--n, an alluring vision of exquisite elegance dressed in black slacks, and a black turtleneck sweater, which framed his face in such a way suggesting a man of great strengths and virility. With the crystal blue of his incredible eyes, and the glinting silver of his hair, the whole thing came together like a black onyx ring, set in silver with blue sapphires. His demeanor was one of brooding and mystery.
Looking at me with piercing eyes, he could see that I, too, was a vision—one of loveliness, dressed in a knee-length black chiffon evening gown, the full skirt swishing and flaring, also in
s--l--o--w----m--o--t--i--o--n, about my slim hips as I walked in black satin pumps, studded with rhinestones, which picked up the surrounding light and cast their brilliance in all directions.
When I turned to face him, the silken strands of my long, thick, dark hair were bouncing and flouncing about my face, also in
When I turned to face him, the silken strands of my long, thick, dark hair were bouncing and flouncing about my face, also in
s--l--o--w----m--o--t--i--o--n , accentuating my tantalizing blue eyes, framed with incredibly thick black eyelashes. And my lips . . . well, what can I say? They were full and inviting, and as I ran my tongue slowly over my top lip, and then even more slowly over my bottom lip, making sure there was no toothpaste left on them, his eyes widened. Seeing all this set him on fire. I was driving him mad with unbridled desire. I could tell. A woman knows these things.
As the distance between us closed, I could see his breathing was becoming rapid and shallow—his chest struggling for all available air. This caused my eyes to blur, so that when he stopped in front of me, I was having trouble making his face come into focus. Suddenly, I couldn’t see his face at all, in fact . . . it WASN'T even Andy's face—it was . . . oh no! . . . It was Harriet's! My eyes had just played an incredibly cruel trick on me!
“Well,” she gloated, “I see you are FINALLY leaving. Good! Have a nice evening.”
She gave me a half-smile and turned away before I could respond—not that I would have. Jeeves, the chauffeur was waiting downstair for me.
“Ms., would you like me to take you to Burger King this evening?” he enquired.
“Actually, Jeeves, I think I would like to “dine” at McDonald’s this evening. Thank you.”
I quickly turned around and came face to face with Andy. My heart studdered as I recognized that look in his eyes— I had seen it earlier. His lips were parted, his breathing accelerated and my heart began racing. His eyes were riveted on mine. But slowly they were making their way to my lips, which were anxiously waiting for his. As he bent his head, he tipped it slightly to one side, and then came in to claim what he had wanted for far too long. His lips were soft and warm and gentle, yet demanding. Passion mounted. He pushed me back against the wall. And then, he moaned and said something very strange,
“The mountains of Tibet are wearing away . . .”
“What?” I asked, not understanding. “What did you say?
As I looked up at him questioningly . . . his hair . . . was . . . was . . . TURNING BRIGHT RED, and his lips were COVERED with red—a lot of red—lipstick. Andy had turned into . . . RONALD MCDONALD! ! !
“No, no, no,” I cried out. “Please . . . NO!”
I had finally snapped, and my explosion caught poor Ronald completely off guard. Then I really rocked his otherwise calm world when I got right up in his face and screamed,
“Sooooooooooooooooo WHAT? Why should I care one twit that the mountains of Tibet are wearing away?" I had really lost it then. "For your information, I . . . DON’T . . . CARE!!!!! Why should ANY body care? !!! DANG! DANG! DANG!” I continued yelling, giving emphasis to each word with a jerk of my head, and a smack of my hand on the table.
And then I began crying hysterically, tears streaming down my cheeks. This was Christmas Eve—I was alone with, of all people, Ronald McDonald—I should have been with Andy!
“Well,” she gloated, “I see you are FINALLY leaving. Good! Have a nice evening.”
She gave me a half-smile and turned away before I could respond—not that I would have. Jeeves, the chauffeur was waiting downstair for me.
“Ms., would you like me to take you to Burger King this evening?” he enquired.
“Actually, Jeeves, I think I would like to “dine” at McDonald’s this evening. Thank you.”
And with that he packed me into the back seat and off we went into the cold, dark Christmas Eve night, as large flakes of snow began to blanket the streets.
Since Andy had only given me the two choices, Burger King or McDonald’s, I chose McDonald’s, because I couldn’t bear another night of Burger King food. Once inside this, “restaurant of choice,” after studying the menu for a long time, trying to decide which “courses” to order, I realized I just wasn’t hungry. So, I ordered nothing.
As I sat there, I noticed that none other than Ronald McDonald, himself, was outside greeting the customers as they came in to “dine.” Eventually, when the snow became blizzard-like, he came inside, too. The next thing I knew he was approaching my table and asked if he could sit down.
“Yes, of course,” I said— like I really wanted to spend Christmas Eve with Ronald McDonald. But I didn’t want to be rude, either, on what should be the most altruistic night of the year. He extended his big yellow hand in my direction. I didn’t know whether to shake it or swat at it.
“I’m Ronald McDonald,” he offered.
“Reeeeally,” I responded, looking sarcastically skeptical at him.
“Really,” he confirmed, shaking his big red and white head up and down, his over-sized red lips smiling.
“Do you have any proof of that?” I questioned. “Like, do you have any ID? I mean anyone could dress up like that and claim to be Ronald McDonald.”
“Oh,” he said, as realization dawned on his white face, “I see what you mean.”
He reached inside his large pocket and pulled out his drivers’ licence. It didn’t say Ronald McDonald. I told him he was a fake.
Since he was already seated comfortably at my table, and I didn't know how to get rid of him without seeming rude, I had to listen to him as he droned on and on for the next two hours about a bunch of useless information which I didn’t care about! For example, he said,
“Are you aware that if you were to take all the toothpicks that are in a Wal-Mart Distribution Center, and place them end to end, you would run out of them before circling the earth?”
“Well,” I responded, after taking a couple of minutes to think that one through, “to be perfectly honest with you . . . I've never even wondered about that.”
Why would anyone be aware of that, I thought? Why would anyone even care? What a useless piece of information! And I told him so.
“What would a person do with information like that? There’s nothing you CAN do with it. It’s useless! Why do you even KNOW that? And why are you telling ME this stuff?”
Since Andy had only given me the two choices, Burger King or McDonald’s, I chose McDonald’s, because I couldn’t bear another night of Burger King food. Once inside this, “restaurant of choice,” after studying the menu for a long time, trying to decide which “courses” to order, I realized I just wasn’t hungry. So, I ordered nothing.
As I sat there, I noticed that none other than Ronald McDonald, himself, was outside greeting the customers as they came in to “dine.” Eventually, when the snow became blizzard-like, he came inside, too. The next thing I knew he was approaching my table and asked if he could sit down.
“Yes, of course,” I said— like I really wanted to spend Christmas Eve with Ronald McDonald. But I didn’t want to be rude, either, on what should be the most altruistic night of the year. He extended his big yellow hand in my direction. I didn’t know whether to shake it or swat at it.
“I’m Ronald McDonald,” he offered.
“Reeeeally,” I responded, looking sarcastically skeptical at him.
“Really,” he confirmed, shaking his big red and white head up and down, his over-sized red lips smiling.
“Do you have any proof of that?” I questioned. “Like, do you have any ID? I mean anyone could dress up like that and claim to be Ronald McDonald.”
“Oh,” he said, as realization dawned on his white face, “I see what you mean.”
He reached inside his large pocket and pulled out his drivers’ licence. It didn’t say Ronald McDonald. I told him he was a fake.
Since he was already seated comfortably at my table, and I didn't know how to get rid of him without seeming rude, I had to listen to him as he droned on and on for the next two hours about a bunch of useless information which I didn’t care about! For example, he said,
“Are you aware that if you were to take all the toothpicks that are in a Wal-Mart Distribution Center, and place them end to end, you would run out of them before circling the earth?”
“Well,” I responded, after taking a couple of minutes to think that one through, “to be perfectly honest with you . . . I've never even wondered about that.”
Why would anyone be aware of that, I thought? Why would anyone even care? What a useless piece of information! And I told him so.
“What would a person do with information like that? There’s nothing you CAN do with it. It’s useless! Why do you even KNOW that? And why are you telling ME this stuff?”
Why am I even listening? I wondered. Why wasn't I with Andy on Christmas Eve? What was I doing there, with Ronald McDonald?
But Ronald wasn’t listening, and the UI just kept running, nonstop, out of his big red mouth.
“Did you know that the number of grains of sand on all the seashores in the world are exactly equal to the number of raindrops that fall each year in the entire the world?”
Well, this DOES boggle the mind, but again, what could I do with it? It was just useless drivel, which he continued expounding ad infinitum, and since I had nowhere else to go, I listened, or at least appeared to be listening. At one point, after he told me how many sink holes there are in the world, I asked him where he got all that UI from and he said—now I tell you the absolute truth here, that he has a degree in UI from the University of Borneo in Los Trekos.
As the evening wore on I had a lot of time to study his face. I told him he needed a hair cut and that he used too much red lipstick, and way too much white powder. As I stared at that pale face during the entire evening, I think it must have lulled me to sleep—with my eyes open.
Finally Jeeves came and I was thankful to leave. When I walked into Andy’s apartment everyone had gone. The party was over. It was quiet. It was dark. I walked over to the tree to see if it was still standing. Thankfully it was still in one piece. The little lights on the tree cast a soft glow on everything in the room. I reached over to adjust a piece of tinsel. And then, as I backed up to look at the tree again, I was stopped by someone’s firm hands on my shoulders.
But Ronald wasn’t listening, and the UI just kept running, nonstop, out of his big red mouth.
“Did you know that the number of grains of sand on all the seashores in the world are exactly equal to the number of raindrops that fall each year in the entire the world?”
Well, this DOES boggle the mind, but again, what could I do with it? It was just useless drivel, which he continued expounding ad infinitum, and since I had nowhere else to go, I listened, or at least appeared to be listening. At one point, after he told me how many sink holes there are in the world, I asked him where he got all that UI from and he said—now I tell you the absolute truth here, that he has a degree in UI from the University of Borneo in Los Trekos.
As the evening wore on I had a lot of time to study his face. I told him he needed a hair cut and that he used too much red lipstick, and way too much white powder. As I stared at that pale face during the entire evening, I think it must have lulled me to sleep—with my eyes open.
Finally Jeeves came and I was thankful to leave. When I walked into Andy’s apartment everyone had gone. The party was over. It was quiet. It was dark. I walked over to the tree to see if it was still standing. Thankfully it was still in one piece. The little lights on the tree cast a soft glow on everything in the room. I reached over to adjust a piece of tinsel. And then, as I backed up to look at the tree again, I was stopped by someone’s firm hands on my shoulders.
I quickly turned around and came face to face with Andy. My heart studdered as I recognized that look in his eyes— I had seen it earlier. His lips were parted, his breathing accelerated and my heart began racing. His eyes were riveted on mine. But slowly they were making their way to my lips, which were anxiously waiting for his. As he bent his head, he tipped it slightly to one side, and then came in to claim what he had wanted for far too long. His lips were soft and warm and gentle, yet demanding. Passion mounted. He pushed me back against the wall. And then, he moaned and said something very strange,
“The mountains of Tibet are wearing away . . .”
“What?” I asked, not understanding. “What did you say?
As I looked up at him questioningly . . . his hair . . . was . . . was . . . TURNING BRIGHT RED, and his lips were COVERED with red—a lot of red—lipstick. Andy had turned into . . . RONALD MCDONALD! ! !
“No, no, no,” I cried out. “Please . . . NO!”
For the second time that night my eyes, indeed my mind had deceived me! Andy’s assault to my psyche had finally taken the ultimate toll—I WAS NUTS! ! ! He had finally sent me over the edge into a state of total Anderdelirium!
Coming back to reality was a shock when I realized it was not Andy, but Ronald McDonald there with me, and he was STILL babbling, saying . . . what on earth WAS he saying?
“The mountains of Tibet are wearing away—"
“What do you MEAN, the mountains of Tibet are wearing away?” I demanded to know, discovering that I had become extremely agitated.
“Well, it’s . . . it's . . . a . . . a . . . geologic fact, the mountains of Tibet ARE wearing away . . . a little at a time—hour by hour actually. Even minute by minute . . . and second by second . . . even as I speak. One day they will all be f-f-flat,” was his explanation.
“REEEEEEALLY?” I yelled out.
Coming back to reality was a shock when I realized it was not Andy, but Ronald McDonald there with me, and he was STILL babbling, saying . . . what on earth WAS he saying?
“The mountains of Tibet are wearing away—"
“What do you MEAN, the mountains of Tibet are wearing away?” I demanded to know, discovering that I had become extremely agitated.
“Well, it’s . . . it's . . . a . . . a . . . geologic fact, the mountains of Tibet ARE wearing away . . . a little at a time—hour by hour actually. Even minute by minute . . . and second by second . . . even as I speak. One day they will all be f-f-flat,” was his explanation.
“REEEEEEALLY?” I yelled out.
I had finally snapped, and my explosion caught poor Ronald completely off guard. Then I really rocked his otherwise calm world when I got right up in his face and screamed,
“Sooooooooooooooooo WHAT? Why should I care one twit that the mountains of Tibet are wearing away?" I had really lost it then. "For your information, I . . . DON’T . . . CARE!!!!! Why should ANY body care? !!! DANG! DANG! DANG!” I continued yelling, giving emphasis to each word with a jerk of my head, and a smack of my hand on the table.
And then I began crying hysterically, tears streaming down my cheeks. This was Christmas Eve—I was alone with, of all people, Ronald McDonald—I should have been with Andy!
My hysteria continued to intensify with each passing second, and Ronald was becoming nervous and confused. He stood up, as if by standing up he could better handle this situation. Then he commenced pacing back and forth.
“Well . . . maybe I was wrong,” he hastened to add, scratching his extremely red head, and tapping fingernails on the table in staccato rhythm, now completely undone by my irrational reaction. “I’ve been wrong before. Maybe the mountains of Tibet aren’t really wearing away. In fact,” he then firmly declared, negating his original pronouncement, “they aren’t wearing away AT ALL!! Really they are NOT!”
Both his eyes had taken to twitching violently by then, and his hands were shaking as he pulled at his red hair. He, too, had become crazed! A crazed Ronald McDonald! I wondered what Corporate Headquarters would think of that. And then, for the first time that evening, he actually said something that was useful.
“I think you could use a drink.”
With that he disappeared around the corner and when he returned he had two Diet Cokes, which I snatched right out of his hands, even before he had a chance to offer me one, and began downing them like a mad woman, gulping first the one, and then the other in a matter of seconds.
When I had finished, I slammed both cups down with a violent bang, spit out a snarling sigh, licked the coke off my upper lip, then, in as defiant a manner as possible, eyes blazing with absolute insanity, lips stretched tighter than rubber bands, shouted,
“Merrrrry Christmas, RONNIE!” At which he turned and immediately fled out the door.
Finally Jeeves came—for real, and took me back. When I entered Andy’s apartment the party really was over; the people really were gone and it really was dark. But I didn’t walk over to the Christmas tree. I just went straight to my WOODEN bench and fell asleep immediately. The Nightmare Before Christmas was finally over!
Bye for now,
Love,
Crazed Ellee
“Well . . . maybe I was wrong,” he hastened to add, scratching his extremely red head, and tapping fingernails on the table in staccato rhythm, now completely undone by my irrational reaction. “I’ve been wrong before. Maybe the mountains of Tibet aren’t really wearing away. In fact,” he then firmly declared, negating his original pronouncement, “they aren’t wearing away AT ALL!! Really they are NOT!”
Both his eyes had taken to twitching violently by then, and his hands were shaking as he pulled at his red hair. He, too, had become crazed! A crazed Ronald McDonald! I wondered what Corporate Headquarters would think of that. And then, for the first time that evening, he actually said something that was useful.
“I think you could use a drink.”
With that he disappeared around the corner and when he returned he had two Diet Cokes, which I snatched right out of his hands, even before he had a chance to offer me one, and began downing them like a mad woman, gulping first the one, and then the other in a matter of seconds.
When I had finished, I slammed both cups down with a violent bang, spit out a snarling sigh, licked the coke off my upper lip, then, in as defiant a manner as possible, eyes blazing with absolute insanity, lips stretched tighter than rubber bands, shouted,
“Merrrrry Christmas, RONNIE!” At which he turned and immediately fled out the door.
Finally Jeeves came—for real, and took me back. When I entered Andy’s apartment the party really was over; the people really were gone and it really was dark. But I didn’t walk over to the Christmas tree. I just went straight to my WOODEN bench and fell asleep immediately. The Nightmare Before Christmas was finally over!
Bye for now,
Love,
Crazed Ellee
0 comments:
Post a Comment