the THE CHRONICLES OF BOSH Xmas Spectacular!

[nostamj]

From....

THE CHRONICLES OF BOSH:
A Fictitious History of the Occupancy of Prince George, Part the First.

It's a Wonderful Bosh Christmas Carol, Charlie Brown!

- a special Holiday presentation

Place: The TV room in a white house.
Time: Recently.

Voiceover:
While Missus Bosh wanders through a Wal-Mart,
Mister Bosh, in the recliner, dozes and dreams.
He was watching Mister Magoo's Christmas Carol ,
No Alistair Sim for him, no sir!

He dreams of driving his golf cart through the snow--
Santa passes, riding a rotary razor--
But when he skids to avoid hitting Snoopy,--
Who's dancing "The Potter Stomp" in the middle of the street–
He slams into a bit of undigested potato (or a pretzel)
And bumps his head.

Bosh:
Sister Mary Clarence! I'm wounded!
Zasu Pitts in pedal pushers is played by a red-headed girl.
And my brother is the Catholic.
Even the littlest tree can be harvested. Mulched.
(To the tune of "Hark, The Herald Angels Sing")
Bark! The family dog has fleas. Barney, pal 'o mine!

(Barney leaps into the river, pursued by a bear.
Schroeder, behind a scrim, begins "The Ghost's Pavane")

Voiceover:
Mister Bosh wakes in, but not from, his dream.
Back in the corduroy hug of his favorite chair,
An apparition gathers before him:
Mister Lore, weighted with
His lockboxes and erudition, howls.

Apparition of Lore:
Mister Bosh, you blockhead!

Bosh:
How can you haunt me? You're not dead.
Technically.

Lore:
Mister Bosh, it is you who haunts me.

What follows is mere entertainment at your expense.
The sheer density of your hubris prevents any
Troubling recognition. No need to be tense.
Just something to forget over eggs in the morning.

There will be three visits tonight.

Bosh:
Three visitors. I've seen this program before.
Heh heh. Won't be fooled. Not again. Heh heh.

Lore:
This program is not that program.
Three visits tonight.

Voiceover:
And Lore slipped away into his internets.
A rustling in the hearth. Marion Lorne
Adjusts her dusty, feathered hat and tugs at
Edmund Gynn's full beard.
And all the Whos who are have-nots
Connect lots of dots.

New rustling in that hearth and Michael Moore,
Jolly blue elf, has appeared.

Bosh:
But, have you any power here? Begone.
My fantasy cannot be your new documentary!

Michael Moore:
My documentary should have been fantasy. But,
That's not the agenda tonight.

Bosh:
I expected three ghosts and only get one nightmare?

Michael Moore:
Welcome to the club.

Look, I know where you've been.
I know where we are.
And, I have a pretty good idea where we're going...
I'm good for the whole shost gig.
Can we just jump to the part where I scare you?

Bosh: (hysteria)
Missus Bosh! Guard he thermostatical thingys!
Only devils like to turn up the heat–

Michael Moore:
Yeah, yeah but I'm late for a screening and...
This is pretty simple.

Bosh: (livid)
Dog! Attack!

( One hundred and one dalmatians
Take a dump on the imperial carpet.)

Michael Moore:
You have no sense of irony, do you?
(rimshot)
Nevermind.

I am the ghost of Christmas Present yadaa yadoo...

( They are now standing in a bombed and smoking
Building in Fallujah, Iraq.)

Bosh:
My ears are ringing. Wayward shells, wayward shells.
Will you be getting your wings now?

Michael Moore:
Behold, the home to a family of eight–

Bosh:
Where are they?
The workhouses?
The orphanages?

Michael Moore:
Killed in their sleep by your bombs.
And then the dogs ate them.

(A bundle of rags quivers on the hearth. Rises.
A tiny, armless child.)

Bosh:
If I had one to give I would give her
A picture of me.

Voiceover:
A torrent of stuffed animals rains down.
Compassionate ordinance.
And we're back--

Mike More:
I am the ghost of Christmas Redacted.

Bosh:
Careful...

Mike More:
Not to worry. Not going there. Again.

(Eugene Ionesco winks from the doorway.
The room, inexplicitly, fills with flag-draped coffins.)

Bosh:
Mr. Gower you're hurting me!

Mike More:
Please... My screening?

I am the ghost of Christmas Yet To Be Imagined.

(The Bosh Twins appear, peeling potatoes.)

Bosh:
What is this sight before me?
The darling daughters in boot camp?
Grimed? Armed? Targeted?

Michael Moore:
Why the surprise?
Shouldn't they trust their daddy?
Should they ignore the call to duty?

Bosh:
Your dream in my dream will not change me.
No snowy reformation. No sweet turkey for the Cratchit family.
Tiny Tim's tour of duty is extended. Indefinitely.

Voiceover:
And when the alien serpent bursts from his gut--
Yodeling "Joy to the World!"--
In a blur of gore, Mister Bosh awakens.

Voiceover:
God bless us, God bless us, every one.

(And razzleberry stuffing...

December, 2004

[Jo March]

1. Nice! I really like this

The fact that * is not changed there at the end is pretty true to life.

I liked this. When can I expect more??? :)

[nostamj]

2. you can find more in the "political poetry" thread

in this forum. Political Poetry

or, on my blog: Nostamj_blog

thanks for the feedback!