Saturday, December 24, 2005

nicholas was

neil gaiman is an author best known for creating the sandman series of comics. the bastard is currently reading a novel by him called american gods. the legend goes like this, one christmas neil gaiman got jealous of all of his artist friends from working in the field because every christmas, they would send him beautiful hand illustrated cards. so one year he wrote a 16 line short story in his christmas cards called nicholas was. it's that time of year, so hear goes:

Nicholas Was...

older than sin, and his beard could grow no whiter. He wanted to die.

The dwarfish natives of the Arctic caverns did not speak his language, but conversed in their own, twittering tongue, conducted incomprehensible rituals, when they were not actually working in the factories.

Once every year they forced him, sobbing and protesting, into Endless Night. During the journey he would stand near every child in the world, leave one of the dwarves' invisible gifts by its bedside. The children slept, frozen into time.

He envied Prometheus and Loki, Sisyphus and Judas. His punishment was harsher.




the bastard has never been long on the christmas spirit and these days, he's even less long on it but i'm sure if the spirits do it all in one night, i'll have it right on time, go eat your christmas pudding shiteyes, and have a merry christmas.

—the bastard


Rob S. said...

Merry Christmas, Jim. Here's to a better 2006. And tell the guy in the photo to take the cookies out of the oven before he eats them!

bastard central said...

thanks lobster! you have a very secular holday thing as well. i'm going to take my mustache out to long island and kill people now. i plan to blame mike farrell for it.


oh and about the oven....well played lobster, well played

Rob S. said...

Mustaches are for riding! You can earn 10 cents per ride with a franchise, I hear...