WISE GUY EH?

[jasonreese]

alexxa-caldwll​,

As Alexa sipped her boozy eggnog, slight tears in her eyes, dressed in a gorgeous, tight, red velvet dress and fishnet stockings, she listens to the man beside her, figuring since she now had nothing better to do than to do just that; listen to this guy talk. At least someone was talking to her. Definitely not the guy she’d met off Tinder that had asked her out on a date and had now stood her up. After Luther leaving New York without so much as a goodbye, she didn’t want it to bother her so, on a whim, she signed back up for Tinder and threw herself back into the dating pool.

She kept her attention on the man, noticing his beard and making a note to herself at how hot guys with beards were… now if this one could just shut up and tell her she looked pretty in this dress, she’d be fine. She sipped more of her eggnog, feeling the alcohol do the trick as the man beside her became less whiney. 

“I think… and listen. Alright? You should calm the fuck down and let your kid enjoy Christmas. He’s got his whole life to be sullen and jaded. Let him be a kid for a little longer. If he’s smart, he’ll figure out Santa isn’t real within the next two years just like all of us. It’s okay. Let him be ten.” She sipped her drink once more and then put her finger up, realizing she was now a bit buzzed. “Also… you’re so dramatic.”

*

Oh, and how his mouth widened with that. It was the mix of the speech, the teary eye that he’s pretty sure he can see pinned on her, the dress that only mildly distracted him from the, might he say, evocative speech, and the thought of how he imagined a boozy eggnog to taste when he can’t stand the taste of a regular one. Whatever it was, it ended with a kind of delighted amusement on Jason’s face. ‘Do you make a habit of talking like the main character in a new age Christmas romance movie where the woman works hard, plays harder, and hates Christmas until she finds the right man who finally relights that Christmas fire in her heart?’

‘That was a compliment, by the way — it’s hard to perfect a speech like that.’ And with that, Jason takes another sip of his beer. He can smell the eggnog and is pretending not to look again at the dress. He focuses in on the teary eye, instead, even if not directly. He thinks of himself as tactful, despite every other human opinion. ‘Are you waiting for someone?’

[jasonreese]

irisorchids​,

-

Esmeray couldn’t help the pang in her chest as the man spoke… the pang turning into slight anger as he continued to talk. She understood she really did, Christmas could get pricey especially when shopping for children but there were ways to go about it that made things a little cheaper. God she would give anything to have one more Christmas with her daughter, one more Christmas to see that little grin spread across her lips when she found out what Santa had brought her. One more Christmas Eve of the five year old insisting that they not only leave out milk and cookies for the big guy but a bowl of water and carrots too for the reindeer. She never would have dreamed of ruining that for her and had feared the day that she might stop believing in it. 

“Or you could just buy the presents and bite the bullet… maybe spend less time at the bar and more time budgeting.” She tells him, raising her glass up as if to cheers him before taking a sip of her drink. 

*

For embarrassment’s sake, and he really is ready to fall into that red faced camp, he thinks, raises a finger and says, ‘One second.’ Before looking down to his drink to reset, then back up at her. This is his mental pause, see, and has been seriously recommended to him again and again before he, leaper that he is, leaps into things, feelings full charge. ‘That sounded like a who-o-o-o-ole emotionally premeditated thing to me, so I don’t think I’m gonna touch it.’ A moment. ‘Really lovely weather we’re having.’

[jasonreese]

arthurgustin​,

-

All things considered, Arthur will give it to the guy that the Grinch idea could make for a pretty good Christmas gig. Maybe not so much attacking children, but getting to bring a primary Christmas character - in his mind - to life and to deliver some Christmas spirit, albeit a tad grouchy, to kids and their families? That’s a cool idea. He’ll tell him as much once he clarifies one very important thing. 

“Wait, wait, wait,” he stops him, holding out a finger as if to indicate the pause. “Do you not like Christmas because it’s, like, all about consumerism now and it’s expensive?” he asks, eyebrows raised. And then, as if he’s maybe just a tad personally offended, he continues, “or do you not like Christmas at all?” The latter will just… not do. “Because I’ve got tips and tricks for the first one, but not liking Christmas in general? I don’t get it.”

*

He forgets nuance can be lost. Nuance, however, was nowhere to be seen once Jason had gone on his tangent that sounded like the great attack on Christmas 2021. He raises his hands to clarify: ‘Swear I’m not the actual Grinch. I’m not about killing the Christmas buzz so I’m gonna bank on the consumerism hate train.’ That said, and Jason can be visibly seen thinking about it: ‘I really like when I’m the one...consuming. I like the gifts that say my name a lot. For that fact, I can’t imagine anyone truly hating the holiday. I’d Grinch their house up for free and, maybe if the big guy is watching, possible Santa points. With your Christmas spirit, you could be my, I don’t know, my dark-sided elf or something.’

[jasonreese]

cassiebennett​,

-

Cassie stills the bottle of vodka that she’s about to pour into a glass for a customer a few seats down from the man who had started to speak. She scans the bar for a moment to see if he’s talking to anyone in particular or maybe just himself? Than his eyes lock onto her own and she curses slightly because had he been talking to her this entire time? She wasn’t paying attention if he had been. Othello was crazy busy tonight, usually was around the holidays, and she hadn’t had a moment to breath let alone get emerged into a conversation with a customer. 

“How old is your kid?” She questions him before resuming to pour the drink that had been in her hands. She knows that if Jenny was here she would chew her out. Cassie can hear her sisters voice in her ear ‘What do you mean how old is the kid? Let them believe in the magic of Christmas as long as they can! There’s no age limit on Christmas joy!”

“Wait wait wait eighty-five bucks to be a Grinch freelancer?” she asks him. For eighty-five bucks she’ll come over and shove his Christmas tree into the fireplace. She sets the glass down in front of the guy who had ordered it before returning back to Mr. Scrooge. 

“Not very fond memories of the holiday or just the spending?” She asks him curiously before pointing to his empty glass as if to ask what he was drinking and if he needed another one. She knew that usually there was something deeper going on if someone was bitter around the holidays. Cassie had never really been big on them but she’d celebrate it like it was all she thought about all year for Jenny’s sake.

*

‘Okay, right? Makes you consider a lot.’ The Grinch pricing, he’s referring to. His face lit up at the shared surprise in cash flow on the idea. After the good laugh the mom’s post online gave Jason was when the actual shock set in. Eight-five bucks have never been so easily put in anyone’s pocket for such an amount of joy before. He could shove a few candy canes in a toaster, switch the Christmas turkey for a rubber dog toy replacement. If he had found the post any earlier, and far less close to actual Christmas, he would’ve considered the career change. ‘She’s almost three. The only real issue is the spending and what it’s spent on, I kind of love the rest.’

He looked at the glass, the way his mouth was running on a motor like that, half as fast as his brain, he’d barely noticed he had reached the bottom of it. ‘Whatever’s on tap? Just realised I sound like a total hypocrite complaining about spending and being out at a bar.’ Consistency fails to be his strong suit. 

‘You know, I saw this toy, this kind of— I don’t know, I wanna say it was a kangaroo because that makes it slightly less disturbing, this toy that when you press the button gives legitimate birth to a tiny version of itself. The baby starts kicking the belly, all mechanical sounding, then comes flying out the stomach. Who did the market research for that? Who is buying it and what kid is playing with it for more than a minute and a half. Well, what are your thoughts on the whole season? I’m blathering.’

[angeldaymiller]

favourite nick miller outfits -> 1.09

[jasonreese]

lunawilliams​,

It was already so late and Luna was hungry. Nothing was opened but her usual pizza place. She loved that place not because the pizza was actually good but, because it was open twenty four seven. She bought a whole tray for herself and sat next to her building entry, taking a few bites. She was in a whole other world with that pizza. Then, suddenly she heard something “Just letting you know that I stole the pizza roller and I am not afraid to use it!” She said as she got up, trying to look at who it was. Her heart was racing.    

*

Jason’s a real talent for just heavy footed walking with this blank look on his face. Like there’s not a single thought up there. The only thing getting him back to the state of a functioning human with functioning human parts (a mouth, a brain, a single ounce of humanity back on his face and care in his step) is something that wakes his subconscious. Pummelled to death by pizza roller; sliced up like pepperoni. That does it. His head jolts awake, and just like that, he’s pulled back to civilisation. He sees the woman, he sees the pizza. That, with the sincere pizza roller threat, that’s enough to keep him awake for a while longer. ‘Papa John really goes rogue this time’a year, doesn’t he?’

[jasonreese]

missjennybennett​,

             Jenny makes a face, though it’s hard to tell if it’s disapproving or approving or simply that she’s cringing in sympathy for the kid that definitely isn’t hers. “I mean if anyone’s gonna do it it might as well be you, right?” She says, leaning over the bar top. “I don’t know. I don’t have kids so I’m definitely not in the same boat as you when it comes t’ Christmas.” She tries, obviously, to go as big as she can for her sister, but it’s hard and she thinks Cassie gets that too.                He asks if it’s an overreaction and Jenny laughs, clearly amused by the thought. “Maybe a little!” She holds up a hand to prevent him from saying more though so she can finish her thought after a good sip from her drink. “I mean the holiday season fuckin’ sucks, man. I get it. Though as far as side gigs go, that’s a pretty sweet one. I can dress you up!” That was sincere, “I did highschool theater costuming and stuff we did a production of th’ Grinch an’ all that.” Granted that was years ago, but she likes to think she’s upped her makeup game. “Look it’s definitely not an overreaction, but it’s definitely not an underreaction y’know? Holidays are stressful. I’ve been booked for weeks ‘cause everybody wants their hair done before the goddamn holidays and this is the first time I’ve had like. A minute to myself. And I’m tryin’a get all of my ducks sorted too and it’s just– - A lot, y’know? So. It’s alright t’ feel that way. How old’s your kid?” 

*

‘Three. Ish. Two and a half. I actually don’t think she knows what Christmas is yet. I think it’s more me and my camera roll that cares more about it right now.’ First photo with Santa, first photo of the first visit to the Rockefellar Tree — Jason forgets the rest when there’s so many firsts. He’s trying to be ready this year. He’d unearthed a gifted ‘My First’ book from deep within the closet just before Halloween and realised he’d missed the documentation of Shelley’s whole first year and a half from forgetfulness (two Halloweens, two Christmases - he’d remembered as much as the birthdays, but he’s getting his ducks lined up too on this late, late timeline.)

‘And are you serious? Because if I reach a breaking point in the next day, I’m going to need to take you up on that offer. I need wig, full body paint, greasy pointed gloves, a belly — like, the full works. If you’re that booked up, I’m gonna need to look for someone else to take on the challenge. I need dedication to freakin’ her out. Your — ducks? Did you say ducks? If they still need sorting I don’t wanna take you away from that. I know the New Year necessitates a fuck load of mental gymnastics to getting organised. Full Grinch would take, what? A few hours? Well, you know. You clearly literally know after doing a show of it. I don’t think I can rob you of those few hours this close to New Years eve.’ 

[jasonreese]

‘You know,’ Jason goes — the you in this sentence starter can be just about anyone with the way he’s talking to the air like that. He puts his pincher fingers together and they’re touching, they’re totally touching. ‘I’m about this close to getting white spray dye for my beard and a fluffy red hat to go with so I can explain the financial ramifications of this whole season to my kid without being the bad guy. I don’t mind Santa taking the fall on that.’ 

No, he locks eyes now: this conversation isn’t to himself. Episode one: Jason Reese seeks sincere advice. ‘Or I saw this mom online who paid a guy eighty-five bucks to come to her son’s Christmas party dressed as the Grinch and had the balls to complain when he smushed a cupcake in the ten year old’s face, like she didn’t hire a freelancer to attack her kid. I could hire that guy to ruin Christmas morning. Cheaper than getting a crap load of gifts...or I could become a Grinch freelancer at eighty-five bucks a pop. I don’t know, I don’t know. Does any of this sound like an overreaction to Christmas? I genuinely can’t tell.’

[jasonreese]

Wiseguise. Midnight in the clean of the club, or 2am, to be specific, in the clean of the club.  Shelley Reese, two and a half, asleep in a booth (already cleaned); Jason Reese, thirty two and a half, rag in hand and scrubbing at the table opposite his daughter. Pictured is a monologue, or a puppet show, or a hybrid of the two that involves an exhaustion induced deluded man and his daughter.

'We'll figure this all out, Shell,’ Reese goes. You’ll recall him as the man with the rag in his hand, but now he’s whipped the thing over his shoulder and shuffled over in a crouch to his daughter’s eyeline (if her eyes were open), to continue talking to the unconscious. ‘We'll figure all this shit out- it out. Shit. It not shit. Figure it out. Fuck. I don’t like to curse at you like that.'

He rolls his eyes at himself like she’s looking, like they’re operating in the same interdimensional plane right now. Like she’d be furious for his every day vocab anyway. He tsks. ‘Quit looking at me like that, you know I don’t like you hearing that language. I’m trying to better us. Honouring the Reese name and moving us up in the world. Pioneering change through language. That’s why we lock you in the back room during Zecko’s set, curse connoisseur of the fuckin’ century. We don’t want you picking all that up, do we?’

Shelley shuffles under Jason’s jacket, or she doesn’t. The movement or lack thereof urges him on like she told him to.

‘Tell me about it, he’s been ripping off Marino for weeks now. I didn’t know how to tell him. That ‘saying fuck in California’ bit was straight from Laugh Factory, swear I saw him on Youtube watching it before he got on stage.’ Jason shakes his head with faux sorrow, wiping away at the table till an idea lights him up and he turns to Shelley, still completely conked out, as two and a half year olds typically should be in such early AMs. ‘Will you talk to him? He’ll listen to you if you say it. Or I’ll distract him and you swipe his phone next time he’s here, check his watch history.’

Jason stops and watches Shelley dedicatedly for any response or movement. Anything to tell him to plough on to keep talking. All he sees is her, asleep, looking like a cheap fallen coat rack. Less of a look anyone wants for their daughter. He eyes the clock on the wall, 2:37am. Clean up takes longer than he anticipates yet every weekend he forgets and sends everyone home so he can close on his own. I’ve got Shelley here to clean glasses and tackle the bathroom, he typically jokes, she’s getting real good at it too, we’ll be home in half an hour. Shelley will have been asleep or snoozing in the back for hours by that point, not that she’s much a cleaner - toddlers are more of a hindrance in that area.

‘C’mon.’ He picks her up, coat and all, drapes her over his shoulder and holds her firmly in place. ‘Home time. We’ll drop by tomorrow, finish the clean up then. Maybe someone’ll have left a money pig in here for the place. Solve all our problems. What d’ya think?’

[angeldaymiller]