To celebrate the holiday season, each 2logger will be penning a post freely inspired by the classic song 'The Twelve Days of Christmas' for the next 12 days. This will either be amazing or catastrophic. Merry Christmas!
Hey. Name's Canada Dre, and I have a problem I'm hoping you can help me with. Oh, it's not you specifically, but this shit has been driving me insane, and I'm just about always hoping anyone might be able to help me. So about a month ago I got this girl, see, real hot dish. And she and I were pretty hot and heavy you know? Like, real lovebird stuff. Kind of mushy crap that makes people want to lose a meal.
So awesome, right? Like I am really digging this, back in the day, you know? And then she gets it in her head that I don't have enough animals and fruit or some shit, I don't know, because suddenly one day the DHL guy shows up and has this pear tree and shoves it at me, and I'm like "I didn't order that man do I look like a pear tree guy" and he says "Don't get all pissy with the messenger man" or some shit "I just deliver this crap and by the way I need a tip because that partridge shit all over my van".
So I look up at the top of the tree and there's this retarded looking bird up there and believe me I'd never seen a partridge before so I was basically like "What the shit is that homes" and he said "Take it up with 'your true love'". So I calls the bitch and I'm like "Baby, this is so sweet" right? And she gets all excited and before I can ask which alley she wants me to dump the tree in she hangs up and won't answer her celly no more.
I had like 17 ginger ales that night tryin' to settle my stomach and the bird just sits there and gives me that dumb look like it's gonna lay an egg or somethin. Next day I get a call from the DHL guy and he just says "I quit, man" and "You gotta pick up this tree and some more birds from the office". Well of course I ain't got no damn car so I just said "Fuck it" I already had a damn tree you know, so whatever.
Then it got real, right? So there I was the next day havin' a damn ginger ale because I think I am allergic to the damn partridge who kept shitting all over my living room, and then I hear like a knock at the door. The door opens and there's that crazy chick and she's all like "Where's the second tree and the turtle doves" like it's some kind of secret code or something you dig? And I just mumbled that it was in the garage because I didn't want any more trees replacin' the one I left at the DHL office, but before I could really get my foot down you know she was bringin' in these three fat chickens. I was in a damn funk but didn't have time to say anything before that bitch planted one on me and was gone. I stared at the chickens and they stared at me, and then I started chasing them around the house trying to catch them. You ever try to catch a damn chicken because it is harder than it looks and eventually I had to give up and had another ginger ale.
Then I realized that the damn chickens were all wearing berets and one of them pulled out a cigarette and started smoking in my damn house. So I was like "great some damn french hens" and that was kind of cool right so I started to scat about that for a while before I realized those chickens was still in my kitchen and one of them was up on the damn range makin' a damn hollandaise cream sauce reduction. I chased it around the house until I passed out under the pear tree cause I was so beat you know?
Well I must have been out for like 4 days I was so damn beat and when I woke up I saw nothing but chickens in berets and they were all clucking and smoking in my damn house and they got in my damn wine too and were all criticizing each other's scarves and I lost it. So here I am see chasing 15 damn french chickens around the house and one of them is in the kitchen making a damn bœuf bourguignon and so I got out the broom and swat it away and just then the phone rings and it's that crazy chick and she's all like "How do you like the gold rings" and I'm like "What damn rings all I see is chickens" and then there's another call and I answer and it's the DHL guy and he's all like "Pick up your damn shit I ain't kidding" and I hang up and the chickens are all in my fridge eating the cheese I was saving for Christmas dinner. I seriously drank so much ginger ale that night I was belching for days and it's like every time I belched more chickens showed up and the entire room is filled with smoke and the partridge is there shitting on everything but the damn birds.
So now it's a month later and I count like 30 of the damn hens and I still can't catch none of them and I guess I did enjoy the Vichyssoise. So cmon, be a pal dig? You gotta come over here with a net or at least go pick up the rest of the crap from the DHL office and dump it in a lake.
An artist's rendition of a french hen with a 'stache.