…one rooster with delusions of grandeur.

Delusions of something, definitely.  Or maybe he’s been just overindulging in the holiday spirit.  (Holidays spirits, judging from the smell of him.)  It’s the only explanation I can come up with for the following exchange, which occurred this morning & which I will now reproduce for you as faithfully as memory allows.

Golden Rooster [slides into the Lair’s kitchen, reeking of rum balls, coxcomb askew under a shiny party hat]:  Bonjour, mes amis, mes amours!  Fear not, I have arrived!

Susan [cautiously moves her pile of just-written Christmas cards to high ground]:  So I see.  You can stop using the plural, though.  It’s just me.

GR:  Just you? [Takes a significant look around the empty kitchen]  And just me? Just us two alone?  Cheri!  You flatter me!

S [sighs]:  No, I don’t.  Seriously.  I’m baking cookies & writing my cards.

GR [ignores her easily]:  Such machinations to get me alone in your lair!  Such lengths to which you go for a private moment!  I confess myself touched.  [Flips open bow tie, swaggers closer, a trifle unsteady on his drumsticks]  Well, perhaps not touched just yet, but if we truly are alone…? [trails off with suggestive brow waggle]

S [straight arms the GR to a halt, leans in for a good sniff]:   Are you drunk?

GR: Mais oui…[Lowers voice to husky whisper]…on your beauty.

S:  Oh for Pete’s sake. [Grabs a cookie from the cooling rack, stuffs it into his beak.]  Give it a break, Lone Free Ranger.

GR [mumbling around cookie]: Ah, cruel mistress, how you wound me!

S: I gave you a gingersnap, didn’t I?

GR:  And it was a sweetly spicy as you, ma petit chou.

S [blinks]:  I’m sorry, did you just call me your little cabbage?

GR:  I did.  [grins foolishly]  You are.

S [palms face, blows out calming breath.  Hands over another cookie.]: Why don’t we soak up some of that alcohol while you tell me what’s got you starting the party so early.

GR [happily munching]: Early?  It’s the First Day of Christmas, my sweet ignorant lass!  And I’m on the job!

S [eyes party hat]:  There’s a job that requires you to be sloshed before noon on a Monday?

GR:  There is, and I have the honor to call it mine.  [Hic.]  I’m pleased to announce that, after an extensive recruitment process, I have been selected as this year’s Lord of Misrule.

S [skeptical]: Lord of what now?

GR:  Misrule. You know, the one the Celts call the Year King?   Perhaps you’ve heard of me as the Minister of Mischief?  The Rooster of Riots?  [Slides wing feather up Susan’s arm]  Some call me the Cock of the Chaos.  Does that suit you?  You like your cocks…chaotic?

S:  Um, no.  I don’t believe I do.

GR [shrugs elegantly]:  As you like, ma petit.  That’s the point, after all.

S:  What is?

GR [seductive grin]:  What you like, dearest.  Your pleasure.

S [interested]:  Really?

GR:  Vraiment!  I am charged with facilitating your holiday pleasure, darling.  Everybody’s holiday pleasure, actually.

S [skeptically]:  You got yourself elected Mayor of Party Town?

GR:   The Lord of Misrule, cheri. And, yes, I have been. [Points at an elaborately beribboned badge pinned to his breast.]  Unless you prefer the Cock of Chaos?

S:  Uh, no.  We’ll go with the Lord of Misrule.  What are your job duties precisely?

GR: To upend the humdrum of your pathetic little lives for the twelve glorious days of Christmas.

S: And how precisely do you plan to do that?

GR:  Why, I shall make fools of kings & kings of fools!  I shall supply drink to the men, steal kisses from the women, slip sweets to the children and give bones to the dogs.  [Slides Susan the side eye.]  I give very good bones.  Just so you’re aware.

S:  Good to know, thanks. [Takes a moment to get past that one.]  And your price for this…uh…service?

GR:  A song!  A Christmas carol preferably.

S:  Seriously?  You’re going to make people sing?

GR [shrugs]:  I would also accept a trick or a joke.  Any little trifle that keeps the mood merry and the heart light.  Any who fail to bring a smile to my beak shall be tossed ignomiously from the Lair without food or drink, doomed to wander the cold, dark wilderness in the company of the humorless & ill-favored.  Unless, of course, they pay the penalty.

S:  Which is?

GR:  Why, to join my court!  I shall grant them a knighthood and they shall pledge to serve me for as long as the holidays shall last!  [Eyes Susan assessingly.]  You, for example, I would dub Spicy Sugarbottom, & you would see to the demands of my…appetite.

S [quickly]:  I have a joke.

GR:  You do?

S:  If the alternative is being called Spicy Sugarbottom all week & slapping your hands away from my rump?  You bet I do.  It’s even chicken-related, sort of.  Okay, here goes.  Make a fist & hold it out between us.

GR: [sighs but complies]

S:  Now cover your fist with your other hand.  Er, wing.

GR: [rolls his eyes but obeys]

S:  Now say the word “wing” three times in a row.

GR [nonplussed]:  Wing.  Wing.  Wing.

S [takes the GR’s wing off his fist, holds it up to her ear]:  Hello?

GR: [silence]

S:  Oh come on!  That one always brings down the house around our holiday table.

GR [reproachfully]:  You disliked Spicy Sugarbottom so much?

S:  My mother didn’t raise a Bond Girl.

GR [wistfully]: More’s the pity.

 

Seriously, folks, this is what we’re up against this Christmas in the Lair.  So here’s the deal:  Either you sing us a verse of your favorite Christmas song, tell us a joke or recount an amusing story in the comments, or you’ll be joining the court of the Cock of Chaos.  You will, of course, accept without whinging the humiliating nom de party he bestows upon you.  The best song/story/joke (as determined without rhyme or reason by the Golden Rooster) will be rewarded with a bag of CRAPOLA Granola (a Minnesota favorite!) and a Kindle copy of TROUBLE, the Blake Brothers Boxed Set by yours very truly, Susan Sey.

Good luck.

Oh, & for all you Spicy Sugarbottoms out there, here’s a recipe for you:

Auntie Pat’s Famous Ginger Snaps

Ingredients:

¾ cup butter
1 cup sugar
1 egg
¼ cup dark molasses
2 cups sifted flour
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp cinnamon
1 tsp cloves
1 tsp ginger
1 pkg (8 oz) diced dates (optional)

Instructions:

Cream together butter and sugar until light and fluffy.
Add egg and mix well.
Add molasses and mix well.
In a separate bowl, combine dry ingredients (except dates, if using.)
Gradually add dry ingredients to wet, mixing well after each addition.
Stir in dates, if using.
Chill 1 hour
Shape into 1” balls and bake on ungreased cookies sheets at 375 for 10 minutes.
Makes 3 dozen.

Note: If you want big, fat, soft gingersnaps (which I often do), make the balls bigger and underbake them slightly.   You should make sure to have some really good vanilla ice cream on hand, though, because you’re going to want to eat them like chips and salsa.