Christmas at the Compound


Well, ’tis the day before the day, here, and preparations are well under way for the Making of Some Serious Merriment. I’ve decided this year, in lieu of the usual KSWNO Christmas Party, which is always fun, admittedly, to host a more traditional, rural gathering here at my snowed-in Northeast Compound.

Meaning, it’s cheaper and I don’t have to drive anywhere.

So me and the Valkyries have been cooking since yesterday morning to get ready to host tonight’s festivities. Mostly, it’s Italian food, the traditional fare for a Socrates family Christmas Eve (which, considering my French, Irish, Scots, German mongerel ancestry, makes perfect sense). Chicken Parm, Stuffed Shells, Lasagna, Meatballs, Sausages, Pasta and Garlic Bread. Tons of hors d’oeurves, shrimp, calzones, pepperoni and pepper jack cheese. Deserts piled high, cookies, candies, cakes and “special brownies“.

Maybe a cheerful beverage or two, who knows.

Everyone is invited, of course. Some have already arrived and have been here for days enjoying the snowy country ambiance and the free drinks. Ozzy McGurt showed up last friday and, thanks to his presence alone, the local food delivery service guy, Tim Brainbooth, has made enough money in tips alone to finally buy all new amps for his death-metal band, Sludge Parade. I’m going to need some sort of crime scene clean-up specialists to clean out the room he’s sleeping in.

Gonz O’Lager and his “friends” have been sleeping out in Garage #4 for two weeks, which is no surprise. I shouldn’t even mention that in case any federal authorities might be reading this. After the plane he was on had to make that emergency landing in Buffalo when the Pilot was alerted to the fact that a good two thirds of the passengers were naked and frolicking in the aisles, many of them screaming incoherently. God himself only knows what he slipped into the complimentary coffee they served.

Chippy McGuinness, in Boston for the last little bit covering the resurgent, magnificent Bruins, is due to head up here today. I’m not sure if she’ll be bringing the four or five B’s rookies that she’s been entertaining in her hotel room nights. No one gives a 22 year-old hockey player more Life Lessons than Chippy. And you guys thought a body check from Dion Phaneuf left you bruised and sore…

I’m still trying to reach Joe Hawaii & Gaylord “Ra” Fondue but they’re not answering their phone. I hope they won’t use the weather as an excuse again. These warm climate guys think anything north of the Carolina’s is pure Arctic Tundra. C’mon guys. you don’t want to miss out on this year’s Yankee Swap. I bought all my stuff at an Adult Novelty Store this year.

Darkfaulker will arrive after Midnight, as usual, slipping in through some crack in the nether realms. I’m told he doesn’t celebrate Christmas as we do but that, after a long, drawn out battle with some rampaging Frost Giants in Luxembourg, he might need a little break to relax. He does like to leave some very interesting things in our stockings before he slips out just prior to dawn. The talisman he gave me last year worked wonders on that nagging lower back problem I had.

I guess Dave The Bodyguard won’t make it thanks to those half dozen broken ribs. And the strained biceps, cracked vertebrae, dislocated shoulder, windburn and frostbite he suffered on his fingers, toes, nose, ears and eyelids during that recent snowstorm at his house. Also, apparently, he has family over there for Christmas Eve , too. Whatever.

Most of the rest of the usual cast of irregulars should be on hand, though. Gorman Moloko will be here late tonight, driving up after hosting some sort of corporate holiday wine-tasting event at The Four Seasons. What fun, Gorm. Melma Frankengibson is coming down from Quebec City where she was investigating that Celine Dion Pact With Satan thing. Pimplton will show up in a limo, I’m sure, so drunk on Chivas we’ll need to wheel him on on a dolly. Shalla, the Edgy Intern is riding up with Stig Marmoset, if he can get a jump start for his El Camino. Just watch his hands at all times, Shalla. Willie T. Sherman, I’m told, just got his pardon from W. for those obscenity charges so theres a chance he might show. Dwight Cooter won’t, thanks to that all night, all you can eat buffet at the Corn & Chicken Hole.

Hopefully, there will be other friends and borderline enemies dropping in for a pop and a laugh. Crispin Glover, George “The Animal” Steele, Wanko The Pornographic Contortionist, Mike Eruzione, Dave Sim, Michio Kaku, The Stedgie Brothers, Grandma “The Blizzard” Cakestandish, Ivan and Kelly from the Rosebuds (who will be performing in Cambridge, MA at the Middle East on January 17th. Hope to see you there). Maybe a Baldwin brother or two will stop in, so there’s a good chance to see a fight, if you like that sort of thing. I think Melma will be channeling Carl Sagan to say a few words at some point, so you won’t want to miss that.

All in all, it promises to be a wonderful evening here. Friends, family, celebration and madness of many sorts. It’s an open house policy for the night and all are welcome, which is unusual for the Compound, so if you’re curious about what lurks behind the electrified fences, sandbags and watch-dogs, this is your chance to see.

Come on over, folks.

And, hey.

Merry Fuckin’ Christmas!


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6 Responses to “Christmas at the Compound”

  1. Gonz O'Lager Says:

    Checking in from garage four. Excellent lodgings, bub, as always. Of course, Christmas at the Bunker is always a festive, lascivious, raw happening.

    Quick question… are there any 24 hour pharmacies nearby? Me and the gals and the dwarf have run out of lube. We also require a couple more pipes for our… erm… peace pipe. Dig? And matches, we need those, too. And knee braces. Something binding, y’know what I mean?

    Oh, and the goat ineeds some melatonin. Anything to stop it from pacing around and meowing.

  2. Ozzy McGurt Says:

    Ken, I’ll bodyslam the first fucker that says you don’t know how to throw a party. My only criticism is that the three deep-fried turkeys and case of Glenfiddich was a nice appetizer, but when does the real food come out? Oh, and tell Pimpleton to lighten up a little. It’s Christmas for fucksake. I was just having a little fun. It was merely a small oversight that the AK-47 was on full auto instead of semi. Nothing a good body man can’t patch up. Besides, I’m sure the limo company carries insurance. And if Shalla gives me one more of her edgy sideways glances I’m going to give her a big bear hug so that she can enjoy the essence of my overactive sweat glands in a very personal way.

    Merry Christmas motherfuckers!!!

  3. Chippy McGuinness Says:

    Does anyone know where I left my underpants? It’s almost New Year’s and I still can’t find them.

  4. Stamford Buckforth Pimplton, III Says:

    I have them, you little minx! I kept them as a memento of our little tryst behind the ostrich farm.

    Mother was most appreciative to hear that you relieved me of my cursed virginity. She asks only that next time you don’t leave as many bruises.

    I request that next time, you don’t shout, “do it to me harder, whatsyername!”


  5. Ken Socrates Says:

    It’s good to see that everyone had a good time, as far as they can remember. I thought it was great when the tree caught fire and George “The Animal” Steele shoved Crispin Glover into it and his hair gel went up like gas-soaked rag.

    I’d like to thank everyone for your gifts, which is to say the mess you left behind, the discarded prophylactics, empty bottles, cans and that frozen corpse in the red suit someone stuffed behind the dumpster.

    All in all, another great holiday, as evidenced by the scorch marks, bullet holes and various organic looking stains on every cloth item in the entire Compound. I love you guys.

  6. Chippy McGuinness Says:

    Given the location of those bruises, I’m not even going to ask how your mother came across them.

    And I forgot to thank you for the hospitality of you and your missus, Socrates. I haven’t had that much fun since the time I smoked crack with Darren McCarty.

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