December 25th, 2015

The Red Tree

"And the martyr line, it's a bitter pill."

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