As I was finishing this up I thought to myself, "damn if this doesn't look like a Christmas Holiday card one might find in a store that tries to sell you shit that's not as cool as it pretends to be." Obviously, it being Christmas Holiday Eve it is too late to send this out to the many people whose physical presences you will not have to tolerate this year. You can, however, prepare yourself for next year now - all you need is a color printer and some cardstock (regular paper works too, if you don't really love the person you're sending it to). Anyway, to save you some trouble I went ahead and made a .pdf you can download and print without worrying about formatting.
Oh, and I couldn't help but notice that this site's gotten a number of new Followers in the last few days, and it would be impolite not to say "hello," and "welcome," and "tell everyone you know."
Oh, and I couldn't help but notice that this site's gotten a number of new Followers in the last few days, and it would be impolite not to say "hello," and "welcome," and "tell everyone you know."
_______________
By Mo Martin
By Mo Martin
(retroactively added)
Having loaded up Big Rocket to his maximum capacity –a considerable amount of trees, I assure you- S3M and the Rocket Brothers proceeded at a leisurely pace into town. As they walked, Little Rocket pointed out houses of interest.
“Dat’s Mr. Pond’s over dere, very good customer, guy goes nuts for the holiday. Bought three trees from us our first year out, buys one more den last year each year we been in dis.” He pointed out a house that was surrounded on all sides by the most elaborately dressed Christmas trees. A tall red-haired man with rosy-cheeks waved with a cheery smile, which the three robots returned, Big Rocket kicking up a slight wind with his enthusiastic wave.
“Dat’s Ms. Chantille-Mendez and Ms. Mendez-Chantille’s house, dey’re two real sweet older ladies. Dey always want a tree exactly 8 feet, 4 inches tall. Dat’s cause they like decorating it with Ms. Chantille-Mendez sitting on Ms. Mendez-Chantille’s shoulders. Each one of dem’s only 4 feet, 2 inches, so that’s as tall as they can get.
“Over dere, ya got da Baum family, always want da skinniest tree, which always struck me as weird, dem being all real fatsoes demselves.”
As they went on, S3M told the Rocket Brothers of his years on the shelves, (a tale that elicited deep, emotional sobs from Big Rocket that sent a shower of pine needles down from his bundle) and his hopes to be a Christmas present. He asked about the appropriateness of any of these houses for him. Did they have children? Little Rocket pointed out all those that did, but also pointed out various problems with the choices presented. Many of the children in his estimation were too rough, as evidenced by the broken toys seen in the garbage when the Rocket Brothers collected the discarded trees from other Christmases. Other houses would have too many competing toys, which the Brothers could tell from how wide the trees they sold were, wider trees meaning more presents under them.
S3M felt dispirited. Here he was in the town, so close to children, just through those windows, but somehow still so far from his destiny. He certainly did not want to be broken in a matter of days. And while it made him feel a little selfish to say so, he did not want to be one among many toys. He had waited three years on the shelves, and in that time, he had grown a desperate urge to be valued dearly. He wanted not just to be a toy, but to be the toy, the stand-out of all open presents that special morning, a memory and friend to be cherished ever after. But going through the Rocket Brothers ‘ deliveries, no home seemed appropriate for his ambitions.
Finally, they came upon a queer house. Beautiful bright lights were only half strung, trailing off into the snow. A model of Santa and his sleigh was set-up, but only a few reindeers had been added, the rest standing dissassembled in a nearby mound of brown, plastic reindeer limbs.
“Dis here,” said Little Rocket, “Is da Absent-Minded house. Well, really, da name of da family is Abzimund, but we’s call dem’s dat cuz they always seem to get distracted half-way through doing something, or forget until the last second. Dey only got their order fer a tree in yesterday, and dat’s only two days before Christmas!”
S3M peered inside. There was only one green little package there, sitting in the corner. It was under no tree, of course, the Abzimunds’ tree still resting, pre-delivery, on Big Rocket’s mighty shoulders.
“Do the Abzimunds have a child?” S3M asked carefully.
“Yeah, Avi. Neat little tyke. Always really polite and happy when we show up with the tree.” Replied Little Rocket. “You like little Avi, right, baby bro?” Big Rocket nodded so enthusiastically, he got dizzy and sat down on the snow-covered lawn with a loud thump, shaking the snow off the half-set-up Santa model.
“He sounds lovely.” Said S3M. “I wonder what he’s getting for Christmas.”
Little Rocket glanced through the window and saw the small green package, then gave S3M a broad wink. “I get it. Wanna check out da competition, huh? Well I think we can arrange that.”
Little Rocket opened up the window a little, just enough to slip his hand inside. Then there was a click-click-click as he telescoped his hand through the empty room over to the lonely little package, and opened its lid, reached in and felt around.
End of Part 3.
Having loaded up Big Rocket to his maximum capacity –a considerable amount of trees, I assure you- S3M and the Rocket Brothers proceeded at a leisurely pace into town. As they walked, Little Rocket pointed out houses of interest.
“Dat’s Mr. Pond’s over dere, very good customer, guy goes nuts for the holiday. Bought three trees from us our first year out, buys one more den last year each year we been in dis.” He pointed out a house that was surrounded on all sides by the most elaborately dressed Christmas trees. A tall red-haired man with rosy-cheeks waved with a cheery smile, which the three robots returned, Big Rocket kicking up a slight wind with his enthusiastic wave.
“Dat’s Ms. Chantille-Mendez and Ms. Mendez-Chantille’s house, dey’re two real sweet older ladies. Dey always want a tree exactly 8 feet, 4 inches tall. Dat’s cause they like decorating it with Ms. Chantille-Mendez sitting on Ms. Mendez-Chantille’s shoulders. Each one of dem’s only 4 feet, 2 inches, so that’s as tall as they can get.
“Over dere, ya got da Baum family, always want da skinniest tree, which always struck me as weird, dem being all real fatsoes demselves.”
As they went on, S3M told the Rocket Brothers of his years on the shelves, (a tale that elicited deep, emotional sobs from Big Rocket that sent a shower of pine needles down from his bundle) and his hopes to be a Christmas present. He asked about the appropriateness of any of these houses for him. Did they have children? Little Rocket pointed out all those that did, but also pointed out various problems with the choices presented. Many of the children in his estimation were too rough, as evidenced by the broken toys seen in the garbage when the Rocket Brothers collected the discarded trees from other Christmases. Other houses would have too many competing toys, which the Brothers could tell from how wide the trees they sold were, wider trees meaning more presents under them.
S3M felt dispirited. Here he was in the town, so close to children, just through those windows, but somehow still so far from his destiny. He certainly did not want to be broken in a matter of days. And while it made him feel a little selfish to say so, he did not want to be one among many toys. He had waited three years on the shelves, and in that time, he had grown a desperate urge to be valued dearly. He wanted not just to be a toy, but to be the toy, the stand-out of all open presents that special morning, a memory and friend to be cherished ever after. But going through the Rocket Brothers ‘ deliveries, no home seemed appropriate for his ambitions.
Finally, they came upon a queer house. Beautiful bright lights were only half strung, trailing off into the snow. A model of Santa and his sleigh was set-up, but only a few reindeers had been added, the rest standing dissassembled in a nearby mound of brown, plastic reindeer limbs.
“Dis here,” said Little Rocket, “Is da Absent-Minded house. Well, really, da name of da family is Abzimund, but we’s call dem’s dat cuz they always seem to get distracted half-way through doing something, or forget until the last second. Dey only got their order fer a tree in yesterday, and dat’s only two days before Christmas!”
S3M peered inside. There was only one green little package there, sitting in the corner. It was under no tree, of course, the Abzimunds’ tree still resting, pre-delivery, on Big Rocket’s mighty shoulders.
“Do the Abzimunds have a child?” S3M asked carefully.
“Yeah, Avi. Neat little tyke. Always really polite and happy when we show up with the tree.” Replied Little Rocket. “You like little Avi, right, baby bro?” Big Rocket nodded so enthusiastically, he got dizzy and sat down on the snow-covered lawn with a loud thump, shaking the snow off the half-set-up Santa model.
“He sounds lovely.” Said S3M. “I wonder what he’s getting for Christmas.”
Little Rocket glanced through the window and saw the small green package, then gave S3M a broad wink. “I get it. Wanna check out da competition, huh? Well I think we can arrange that.”
Little Rocket opened up the window a little, just enough to slip his hand inside. Then there was a click-click-click as he telescoped his hand through the empty room over to the lonely little package, and opened its lid, reached in and felt around.
End of Part 3.
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