Thursday, December 24, 2015

Sleigh Bells Ring - Chapter Three

Welcome back for more Sleigh Bells Ring ! I hope my readers enjoy this little holiday gift from Oscar and me. This story has not been professionally edited, so you may find some errors even though I have self-edited it to the best of my ability. Please forgive any glaring mistakes that I may miss.

This short story is about a gay couple. If this offends then you should move along to another blog.
See you tomorrow for the last chapter!

Sleigh Bells Ring
Chapter Three

            I looked at the penned up geese then glanced over at Viviana. She seemed less enthused about this idea than I did. It had started so well too. Liz and Maggie had gone off in search of birds one way and we had gone the other. When we struck out, aside from finding some plucked geese hanging in a Chinese butcher shop, we sadly walked along South Street until we had found a tearoom called, of all things, Yoko's Apron. The owner, a funky Woodstockian kickback if ever I saw one, gave us the address to the farm he lived on with his son out in Feasterville.
            Now, here we were, in Feasterville, talking to an adorable man who I recognized from passing him on the street corner in front of The Houseman. He performed with his guitar and had a precious daughter who had Down's syndrome.
            "Are you positive about the laying thing? I asked for the third time while the big white geese gave us evil eyes as they paraded about inside their pen.
        "I'm sorry, but geese don't generally lay this time of year," Dale Christie, the handsome folksy man with delicious dark brown curls and a serene smile who greeted us warmly upon our arrival, said."They're seasonal layers, so they won't start laying until spring. I can still rent you the geese though."         
            "Why would they say the geese were laying in the song if they don't lay this time of year. I think that's false caroling!" I was quite miffed.
            "Oscar, I personally don't care of the geese are laying or not. We're just going to put them in a little fence in the backyard, right?"Viviana looked a bit edgy.
            "Well, yes, but wouldn't it be spectacular to see an egg just drop out? We could all sing about it. That would make me so festive and gay!"
            "Make you?"
            "You're such a sassy salmon. Let's go round up geese!" I clapped my hands and threw a long leg over the three-foot high fence.
            "Are you positive you don't want me to do this?" Dale shouted over the honks and hisses of the flock. I waved him off with a smile. How hard could picking up a fluffy little goose be? I hoped they didn't get down on my trousers. I stepped into the pen then turned around to assist Viviana in. She went in reverse.
            "Forget it. I am not getting in there. I don't want goose shit all over my new winter boots." She folded her arms over her substantial boobs and dared me to argue. I glanced down.
            "Why did no one tell me they pooped?" I asked then wiped the pooh off the bottom of my new boot on the bedding. I heard Dale yelling something and thought to give him a sour look but at that moment, something pinched my backside. Hard. I squawked and jumped back over the fence, my hand covered my poor pinched bottom.
            "It bit me!" I said, rubbing away at the pinch mark, while I gave one goose a dirty look.
            "I was trying to warn you about the gander," Dale interjected. "Why don't I gather them up and deliver them to you?"
            "Yes, thank you, Mr. Christie," Viviana quickly said then gave Dale the rental fee of five dollars a goose, he refused to take more, and my address. We shook hands with the handsome street performer then left the farm, my sweet cheek aching.
            "You can stop smirking," I muttered as we drove back into Philly.
            "That may have been the fastest I've ever seen you move aside from that time Macy's put all men's footwear on a half price sale," she giggled with delight.
            "I still think we should call the place Wanamaker's," I said just to be that way.
            She snorted at my snippiness then pulled into the parking lot of the Black Boar Bar & Grill. We hustled inside and found Liz and Maggie seated at the bar. I stepped up behind them, kissed their cheeks, and asked where the rest of my birds were.
            "Do you have any idea how hard it is to find partridges, turtle doves, calling birds and swans in downtown Philadelphia?" Maggie asked then took a long sip of her coffee. Lizzie nodded strongly.
            "The only swans we could find were the swan boats at the Philadelphia Zoo. They said you could rent them since the pond is now frozen but it's going to cost you," Liz informed me as she handed me a slip of paper. My eyeballs nearly rolled from my head when I saw the rental cost.
            "Here's the only partridge we could find," Maggie passed me a photoshopped image of David Cassidy perched in a tree.
            "Oh tee-hee-hee," I said then shoved the picture into the inside pocket of my festive red and green vest.
            "Did we manage to get any birds aside from some ill-tempered geese?" I inquired then flopped down into a bar stool to the right of Lizzie. She reached over to pat my shoulder.
            "We found some French birds called Maran's," Liz, who looked just dreamy in a thick winter coat and a white fuzzy winter hat, said with a smile. That sounded encouraging.
            "They're chickens," Maggie slid in tenderly.
            "Chickens? You mean all we have for the party are geese and chickens?" I asked, panic creeping into my voice.
            "And that partridge tucked into your vest," Viviana commented then took a sip of her hot chocolate. The bartender placed a cup of coffee in front of me.
            "Can you put something in this?"
            "Cream or sugar?" he asked.
            "Vodka," I sighed then let my head drop to the top of the bar. My glorious twelve days of Christmas party was going to be nothing more than a barnyard jamboree!


You can get to know Oscar and the Wildcat gang even better by reading the To Love a Wildcat series starting with Pink Pucks & Power Plays:


Susanne Matthews said...

Too funny. I'm loving the story.
Well done.

Jean Joachim said...

Too hilarious! Count on Oscar to make me laugh. Great story. Looking forward to tomorrow!

Cathy Brockman said...

Oh GOsh I laughed so much! I loved Seeing the Street Performer I love him!

V.L. Locey said...

Thanks everyone! Leave it to Oscar to bring the chuckles. =D