Come on, Barbie, let’s go party

DING-DONG

Christie-May Nelson gets up from her plastic covered arm chair gingerly, she’s a short woman in her mid fifties. She’s dressed as well as she can be for the occasion. Her witch hat with her graying brown hair underneath it and her long black dress is quite the witches ensemble and she heads towards a plastic jack-o-lantern bucket with full size candy bars inside. She brushes the dress down quickly and takes a deep breath. 

First impressions are important, she and her husband Larry Ray Nelson had just moved into the neighborhood a month ago. This was her first participation in a neighborhood event, and she needs to make sure the rest of the neighborhood views their new neighbors in a good light. Larry had insisted on working on his car in the garage, so Christie-May is alone this evening doing her best Stepford smile. She whips open the front door and is immediately blown away by the little voices. 

“TRICK-OR-TREAT”

“OH! I thought there was a real mummy, and a real… well what are you?” Christie says through her Stepford grin, she holds the bucket out as a group of children descend on the bucket like a bunch of ravenous animals. 

“IRONMAN!” 

“A real Ironman at my lil front door?” She keeps the tender fake smile going and steals a glance at the approving mothers as the children begin to walk back down the sidewalk towards their next conquest. 

“Mrs. Nelson, right?” A mid-thirties yoga devotee asks through her own best fake smile. 

“Yes, it’s Brianne, right!?” Christie-May has never been great with names, but she had made sure she paid attention to everyone’s listed names at the first HOA meeting she had attended. 

“You can call me Brie, and it’s been a real breath of fresh air to get neighbors like you two. Happy to have you in the neighborhood!” Mrs. Nelson beams, her perfectly white fake teeth shining almost brightly enough to guide the children with their departing mothers down the sidewalk. She stands and waits until the intruders pass the property line. Old habits die hard. 

She glances past the sidewalk looking for any other groups she could doll out her full-sized diabetes bars to and her eyes immediately focus on the Chevy Suburban idling at the curb. She had never seen a black SUV with tinted windows like that in her neighborhood. This was one of the best neighborhoods in town, and people drove their children from all over to trick-or-treat here… 

Finally, confident that nothing was too amiss she steps back from her concrete front porch and into the house, gently closing the door. Just as the door latches closed the siren of the evening sounds again. 

DING-DONG

“God dammit all…” Christie-May mumbles quietly, she brushes her dress with her hands again and straightens her back out, giving it a big stretch. The Stepford smile creeps back across her face and she turns around to the door. She yanks it open and comes face to face with a mysterious birdman. 

His brilliant light blue hued unblinking eyes stare at her. His dark blue feathers and pointed smiling orange beak make her feel uneasy, however she keeps her best smile up. She waits awkwardly, the birdman staring at her with his dead glare, and her smile slowly morphing into a weird and awkward expression. There is no stopping the glare, and finally Christie-May awkwardly breaks the silence. 

“Oh, you must be a Bird, what show is that from?” She asks as she grabs a three musketeers bar from her plastic jack-o-lantern. She looks for a bag to place it in, but there is nothing but the hands of a mysterious birdman. She peaks around to the side of his black trenchcoat looking for a parent, however there are just four silhouettes standing on the edge of her spotlight. 

“Oh, well, here…” The uneasiness in her voice is cringe-inducing, and she tries to shove the candy bar into a mysterious birdman’s relaxed hand. He won’t grasp the candy however, and she looks up into his stupid smiling, staring face. The botox won’t let her smile fade, so instead of concern her face is a contorted mess. 

“Do you want a different one, hun?” she asks loudly, looking towards the silhouettes on the edge of the light for assistance, help, something to stop this creepy teenager. She looks into the bird’s eyes again, and then she shifts the angle to look into the bird’s mouth for the wearer. 

“Larry!” Christie-May shouts out of desperation, a rustling in the garage, and an enormous man in overalls appears and a second motion activated light kicks on from the front of the garage. He looks towards the sound of the awkward shouting and sees his wife, face to face with a large teenager in a half bird costume, he pauses for a moment and watches before starting to walk across the driveway. 

A silhouette finally steps forward into the light, Shinji ‘Rhino Horn’ Komiya steps forward into the light. He straightens the rhino horn on top of his head and readies himself. 

“The Generalissimo awaits your presence,” Shinji says absolutely perfectly in an English accent. This is the only English phrase he really knows how to say, and was forced to practice over and over again for weeks so he could finally do something right… 

“Who in the hell is the General-” Larry begins but is stopped as The Generalissimo makes his presence known by stepping into the spotlight. Nobody moves, nobody says anything. Christie-May Nelson just steps around a mysterious birdman, who slowly turns his beady bright blue eyes with her. 

“Ray-Ray, is that you?” Christie-May Nelson asks, that couldn’t be her only son… she hadn’t seen him in two years… 

“Hello, Mother.”

A long dramatic pause. 

“Take them inside.”

————————————————

“I’d ask you where the money is, but I can see where it went,” The Generalissimo stands in the middle of Christie-May’s and Larry’s living room. The Nelson’s are seated beside each other on a plastic covered couch, the Monster Menagerie are standing at attention just behind him. He walks over to a new collection of rare precious moment figurines on a bookshelf. He picks one up and holds it in his huge hands. 

“So where is Betsy Sue…” 

“Ray-Ray…” Christ-May whispers softly, Garry picks up on his mothers body language, and her typical delivery of bad news. 

“She died of a heart attack?” 

“Ray-Ray” 

“She was maimed in a horrific tractor accident and is in a coma?” 

“Ray-Ray…” 

“She flew to Tibet to help orphans with medical care and is a prisoner of it’s communist government…” 

“Ray-Ray… Let me finish,” Christie-May says with only the tenderness a mother can provide. She gets to her feet, a mysterious birdman steps forward but The Generalissimo waives him off. 

“She moved on Ray-Ray… She has a baby now…” Garry’s fist tightens into a ball and he squeezes his hands as tightly as possible. The emotions rip through his body, his heart aches, his chest tightens, everything inside of him cries out wanting to explode… 

“I’m sorry Ray-Ray but you weren’t…” 

“I’m sorry too.” The emotions are gone, he puts on his best fake stern expression. He straightens his body and nods to a mysterious birdman who removes Christie-May Nelson from The Generalissimo’s side and back to the couch. 

“I’m here to let you both know that you are no longer my parents, Mom, you will now be referred to as Christie-May, and Dad, you are Larry. That is all,” Garry takes a single deep breath and walks out the front door, the Monster Menagerie join him on the concrete porch. A mysterious birdman stares at The Generalissimo. 

“What do we do now?” Garry rhetorically answering birdman’s question with the same question. Questioning the question if you would. He pulls the bill of his hat down over his eyes, hiding them from view. 

“We find a new Generalissima.” 

——————————————

Hey Darlin’, how ya doin’? Have ya ever stayed up all night in a corn field looking at the stars ‘cause yer drunker than a skunk thanks ta all the Busch Light ya drank cause ya couldn’t afford no Budweiser? Oh sorry I’m supposed ta be talkin’ ta Johnny right? He’s the guy I gotta go out there and step inta a ring with? That’s nice.  

So Vick, baby girl. 

I dunno if you’ve ever heard of the slap fighting champion of Nelson County before, or if you’ve ever heard of the adopted son of a famous billionaire, but I do know ya watched me butcher that poor boy David Noble like a critter I shot with my .22. Prolly got yer little man Jonathan there a real nice scoutin’ report on me. What’s it got in there darlin’? Ya talk ‘bout how pretty my smile is? How nice lookin’ I am? Or did ya just ya know, do it in yer subconscious? Like when ya told him ta stay outta range of the fryin’ pans, how did ya describe ‘em? 

I bet you think I’m some type of monster. 

That’s great. 

‘Cause I am. 

But see darlin’, I’ve been watchin’ ya fer awhile. I’ve seen how all of this unwound, from annoyin’ protestin’ ta amatuer chocolatier murder. And darlin’ I’m impressed, stunned, everytime I see ya on my television ya send little butter-flys flutterin’ fer the Generalissimo. No matter what yer doin, ya got one singular focus. Yer out there ta help yer man however ya can. Yer loyal, fiercely loyal. All of the situations Jonny gets himself inta, don’t worry, Vickie is there ta clean it up. Organizin’ a man like Darin Zion and the weird house cat that won’t stop rubbin’ itself all up on ya. Got yerself a mighty fine team, mighty fine. I’m almost envious. 

Almost. 

But see dollface, I look ya over and I see the potential. Ya wanna know what the Bolambaland Intelligence Special Report on Jonny that Lord Kurosame-sama sent me said? Hold on, lemme get that declassified fer ya. Aight, properly declassification. Ya think politicians would have learned this by now. Dictatorship is clearly the way ta handle things. 

Sorry, I was on a tangent. 

Or was I? 

Generalissima. 

I see ya darlin’, I see the hard work ya put in. Ya masterminded this entire thing, by hook or by crook as my Mama always said. That’s how ya did it by the way, I dunno if I was clear there. Fuck it. Ya get my drift. Ya did everythin’ possible ta catapult yer man, ya went out and found the only man that would team with that festering puddle of a human being, Darin Zion. And ya made Darin Zion a real wrassler. Girl ya got it goin’ on. Ya got that midas touch, everything ya look at turns into pink hued gold. 

‘Course Jonny ain’t win none yet, but ya know, he’ll get there one day. He’ll figure it out, he’ll put it all together. It’ll be just like some little light switch, the mild mannered pamper panther will morph over night inta the treacherous tyrannical ferocious felinoid that ya always wanted him ta be. I didn’t wanna assume which one ya wanted Jonathan ta really become, I figured I’d let ya have the choice darlin’. 

And I’m gonna give ya another choice here in a lil bit. But shhh, don’t get freaked out. Ya don’t have ta tell Johnny boy. 

Unless ya want to. 

I wouldn’t stop ya. 

See, yer uncontrollable, an untamable shrew my Momma would say, and well ya prolly wouldn’t get along with her, but don’t ya worry none ‘bout that. 

Just ‘cause I don’t get ‘long with her ‘neither. 

But I’m driftin’ in my thoughts Vick, I’m like that ya see. A little disorganized, my up top is a little mixed up if yer pickin’ up what I’m putin’ down. I got one of those brains everyone thinks is a little faulty, but that’s mostly ‘cause they don’t understand. People think that ‘bout ya too don’t they? 

Ya just want that fantastic Hallmark movie, with the PRETTY PINK carpet. 

Just ‘magine bein’ there with a man in uniform? 

Oh, sorry. But ya, the Hallmark journey. Ya know what my favorite time of year is? When they show all them Christmas movies on the Hallmark channel in July. In Bolambaland that’s a national holiday, the entire two weeks. Work is forbidden, we sit around and watch all these boys get adopted by billionaires so they can marry a girl with a mega-rich father. 

It’s pretty wild how often that happens, like I thought I was the only guy that ever got adopted by a billionaire, at least since them Roman fellers were adoptin’ there way ta Emperorship. Or somethin’ like that, I dunno, Mr. Dickhead’s history class was right after my mornin’ nap so I paid a lil’ attention ta what he was talkin’ ‘bout. 

But anyway, back ta that report. Lord Kurosame-sama worked so hard on it, had his little fins scribblin’ away. I mean sure, his fins are hands, but like, he’s a shark-man, that only makes sense. See he’s a monster, so he gets ta call them whatever the hell he wants. Anyway, that there special report was absolutely fantastic. See we do counter scoutin’ out here in Bolambaland, ya know, like he was explainin’ ta me in the way only the alpha predator of the ocean can that ya would be real well and prepared for the Generalissimo. 

But only ‘cause of you darlin’. See that Johnny boy, he can’t watch a fight and come up with a strategy, he ain’t capable of it. And when that scoutin’ report ain’t goin his way, ya know what it means right? When he ain’t able ta handle the problem ya been identifyin’? Do ya think he’s gonna be able ta handle the questions I propose in the ring and outside of it?

What if there was a man that could? A man that could take that fantastic scoutin’ ya do, and really put it ta good use? What if there was a man who could be that man in uniform at your Hallmark movie premiere, what if? 

Boy that would be interestin’. 

Then there’s yer presence, I see all the trouble ya go through, all the work ya do makin’ sure yer lil Convoy of miscreants looks absolutely stunnin’ in front of the PRIMEverse. All those special entrances ya plan, all the work ya put inta playin’ yer part in intimidatin’ and infuriatin’ Jonny’s opponent. 

But what if he could strike fear inta them himself? What if he had Dale given gifts? What if he had a single solitary ounce of charisma? What if he could walk out and dominate? 

That sure would be somethin’. 

See, I read that report Lord Kurosame-sama sent on over ‘cross my desk, and ya know what?

He’s right.

I gotta watch out fer you. 

And I want to. 

‘Cause Vickie Hall, when I see you, I see perfection. I see the most beautiful woman I’ve ever come ‘cross in all my years. Dale himself would come down from the heavens and sweep you off yer feet if he could. See Vick, you and me? We’re cut from the same cloth, what all these people think of us, what all these people know of us. 

They think we’re different. 

They think we’re monsters. 

And we are. 

We’re monsters ‘cause we don’t conform ta their ways, we’re monsters ‘cause we take what we want, we’re monsters ‘cause we do it our own way. And these people, they find that repulsive, they vilify it, call us names and hurl insults at us. We’re oppressed, persecuted, just like they tried ta persecute The Great Intimidator with restrictor plates. 

But ya know what he did? 

Well he died crashing headfirst into turn four at Daytona and that was the saddest day in the history of the entire planet. 

But ya know what he woulda done? 

He woulda stood up fer his people. He woulda been an inspiration ta an entire new crop of short lived restrictor plateless race car drivers and it woulda been magnificent. They woulda ruled the entire world and I woulda been able ta do exactly what I was meant ta do. 

See, right now yer the sad, frustrated, miserable house wife to Johnny and ya just need ta get away from him. Ya need ta run off and follow somethin’ yer passionate about. Somethin’ that really sparks yer interest, somethin’ that really gets ya goin’. A ‘cause, a movement. Ya run off and join a movement that yer passionate ‘bout, and what do ya find? 

Well the most Hallmark thing of all. 

Well first ya prolly get lost in the woods, and are gonna end up spendin’ Christmas alone. But see the woods turns inta a tropical jungle, and really yer lost on an island in the Pacific and a patrol finds ya, and ya go inta a magical palace and there the leader is standin’ in his magnificent wonder, his tyrannical presence, his aura of supreme authority is absolutely arresting. 

And ya plead yer case, that ya just want ta be able ta celebrate Christmas. 

And The Leader waves his harrowing hand and makes it so. A plastic Christmas straight from the fanciest aisle in Wal-Mart appears. An immediate studio canned aww is piped in, and there we, I mean there you are. Suddenly transported beside a cozy fire, a glass of holiday red wine, the leader with a can of Busch Light. Ya talk and laugh inta the night, hours of meaningless, mind numbin’ conversation ‘bout how this was the moist magical Christmas ever. 

Then the leader gives you a choice. 

Will you be the Generalissima? 

You have to make a choice darlin’, ya can rewrite yer mildly successful Hallmark movie. The Love Convoy is a great prequel. Wonderfully done in execution, with a huge talent that really steals the show. 

But now it’s time ta make the greatest Hallmark movie ever made. 

Vickie Hall’s: The Generalissima. 

So whaddya say darlin? 

Fix my scrambled mind, show me the way, enhance my presence, and I will enhance yer world. The two of us my dear, together, forever, ruling over this wonderful world of owls and mischief. 

Join the Monster Menagerie, organize us. 

I will be your Generlissimo and you will be my Generalissima, a story of a partnership and awkward semi-right wing bible belt equality only fit for Hallmark. We will be the stars, to hell with Cancer Jiles, Brandon Youngblood, Ivan Stanislav, and even them sticky fellers. You and I, we’ll rule this place fer eternity. Garry and Vickie, it even rhymes. 

You make your choice. 

I’ll see you at ReVival. 

Don’t worry, I’ll let Johnny watch.