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THE SUFFERINGS OF ST. HOLIDAY, PART 8, OR RETURN FROM NEVERLAND

At the door of the former residence of Show Low's pre-famous, buck-truth poet.

St. Holiday: Babycakes!
The Lovely One: Crazycakes!
St. H: Are you glad to see me?
TLO: I am nigh-overwhelmed.
St. H: Aren't you gonna let me in?
TLO: Where have you been?! I came back from Brandy's, and you were gone, and the house was overrun with skinny, ommming immigrants. You had everyone in here but Mother Theresa.
St. H: Oh yeah, Basutop and his family. Where are they?
TLO: They had to leave. Your "friend" extends his deep regrets, as he said, but there was no more food in the house, the utility company shut off the gas, electric and water, there was nothing of ours left to sell, and our mortgage company began foreclosure proceedings. How could you let that happen?!
St. H: Ouch. I hope they're not mad at me.
TLO: Holiday, they cleaned us out and left us destitute, and you care about their feelings?!
St. H: Without charity, I am nothing.
TLO: With charity, you have nothing.
St. H: Well, look on the bright side: it will be easier to clean, easier to move ...
TLO: Easier to divide up in our divorce.
St. H: No, baby! What are you saying? I need you! Don't cast me off like the others did, please!
TLO: It's hard not to. Holiday, I need some stability, some security, some food! How can I have that when you wander away to heaven-knows-where, doing-heaven -knows-what? Where have you been?!
St. H: Well, it's a long story. I thought you had abandoned me, so I hitchhiked to California to find you and beg you to come back. I got a little lost. But then Michael Jackson's mother found me, and took pity on me and said she'd help me, but she made me pull weeds at Neverland, and she only let me wear one glove, and she wanted me to get all this facial surgery, so I ran away, chased by a band of predatory lesbians, and just when I thought I was in the clear, I was kidnapped by this bunch of immigrant Russian gangsters, who sold me to a Mexican Bible cartel, but I stole Emperor Palpatine's Sith cloak and was able to escape through the back pass ...
TLO: Oh brother!
St. H: It's so good to hear you say that again.
TLO: In some countries, you'd make a good kebab.
St. H: What do you expect from the son of a non-Yiddish-speaking millwright?
TLO: If you were four feet shorter, you'd be in the circus.
St. H: O, who will soothe my sorrows?
TLO: You certainly are no stranger to domestic tragedy.
St. H: Every vestige of normal life for me has been suspended since early 1951.
TLO: You just operate on a delay, I guess.
St. H: Won't you let me in the house, sweetheart?
TLO: What happened to my See's dark chocolate-covered almond clusters?
St. H: Did you ask Basu?
TLO: He said the great Shiva does not permit him to eat dark chocolate.
St. H: Did you ask each of his family members?
TLO: They all denied it. Are you going to deny it, too?
St. H: You sure are beautiful. You have an hypnotic effect on me.
TLO: You are such a slug in the mud! You did eat my chocolates! Again! Every time I buy something special for myself and hide it away, you come along and steal it.
St. H: I'll go to my room now.
TLO: No. Give me one good reason why I should ever let you back in the house.
St. H: Cause I'm the cure for all what ails ya, baby.
TLO: You're the cause for all what ails me! And don't wink at me; it's so, so Cyclopian!
St. H: Do we have any Thorazine left?
TLO: No; you get nothing. And you can have seconds.You probably ate my chocolate-covered dried cherries, too, didn't you?
St. H: Are they missing?
TLO: How can I tell? The refrigerator is gone. I had them in the bottom drawer. I bet you found them and ate them all.
St. H: Is there any way we can be reconciled?
TLO: You must be under the influence of the Eye of Sauron.
St. H: I mean well.
TLO: What ever emboldened you to eat my chocolates? Haven't we had this discussion before? More than once! You are an habitual offender, always sneaking around and thieving.
St. H: You are so stark, raving nice.
TLO: I think your approval ratings have taken a nose-dive at home.
St. H: Ah, the sweet air of blissful domesticity!
TLO: Never let the truth intrude; that's your motto.
St. H: Little Sweetie, won't you take me back, give me one more chance?
TLO: Why?
St. H: To nurse me back to full recovery after my soul-crushing descent into the abyss of misery and woe.
TLO: You exaggerate more than anyone in the history of the universe.
St. H: You wouldn't say that if you knew what I've endured lately.
TLO: Poor baby! I bet you really suffered on the peekaboob coast!
St. H: Honey doll, the women there are morlocks compared to you. (I don't mean you, ladies.)
TLO: What did you just whisper?
St. H: I said I was in Hades, that's all.
TLO: Yeah, right.
St. H: Babe, look at me. Besides being handsome, brilliant, gifted and courageous, what do I really have going for me?
TLO: Not wealth, that's for sure.
St. H: Plus, I was passed over again for the Sexiest Man Alive title. Forty years in a row! They gave it to that scraggly pirate. I'm not taking it well.
TLO: You're surprised?
St. H: What do you mean?
TLO: Well, maybe you should catch a flight to the Balkans for that new treatment.
St. H: Thanks for reinforcing my rotten self-image.
TLO: You're always crying for attention. Why don't you just hire a personal stalker?
St. H: Hmmm, I never thought of that.
TLO: You only think you're a failure. You haven't been officially declared a failure yet.
St. H: Who does that?
TLO: Me. You're officially a failure.
St. H: Ow. Here I am, the artist no one understands.
TLO: You have a right to my opinion. You have a talent for invariably veering into spectacular blunders.
St. H: I've never really recovered from fatherhood.
TLO: You did get a hefty dose of that, you pop phenomenon you.
St. H: Loverdoll, I'm a desperate figure of a man, a victim of the Great Recession. Let me back into your heart. And into your bathroom. Please! I've learned my lesson. I'll change. What sayest thou?
TLO: Well, despite everything, you are a perpetual fountain of good humor. Will you promise to replace the chocolates you stole from me?
St. H: I'll double your losses.
TLO: OK, we have a deal. You can come back in.
St. H: Let's seal the deal with some sweet patootie pie!
TLO: No kisses until I see that chocolate.
St. H: Hey, it sure is empty in here. They did leave us a chair, though.
TLO: Yeah, the one you pulled out of the dumpster.
St. H; I guess all my kids called while I was away.
TLO: Not even one call.
St. H: Are you sure? Did you check the voicemail?
TLO: No calls.
St. H: But it's Thanksgiving! They must be very, very busy, or something.
TLO: Or something.