December 15, 2023

Christmas, Rinse, Repeat

“If I had my way,” Maximillian Pettibone says to his lover, Cynthia Quartermaine, as they bake Christmas cookies and listen to Andy Williams records, “there would only be four months in the year.”

“How’s that?” Cynthia asks.

“September, October, November and December,” Maximillian says. “Then when the clock strikes midnight on New Year’s Eve we would just go back to Labor Day. September, October, November, and December have it all. The other eight months can eat shit.”

“I thought that’s how it is already,” Cynthia says.

Maximillian lunges for her and they have sex with their eyes open and clothes on, just the way it should be.

“Merry Christmas,” Cynthia says as they share a joint afterwards.

“Indeed,” Maximillian says as he throws the calendar into the fireplace. “Indeed.” --TK