New Year's Eve in the Cranberry Bogs ~ Come Jump In!

New Year's Eve Party in the Cranberry Bogs

(This is the second annual joint New Year's Eve article created by the likes of Carolyn Madden; Elizabeth E., aka "Bob"; Faith H.; and Magi - a dangerous combination of warped talents!!)

G'day,Carolyn! Hi, Faith! Yes, I'm bilingual. Strine and American salutations are a piece of cake. Speaking of cake, what are you two taking to Bob's New Year's Eve party? What's that you say, Carolyn? Oh, you're taking Vegemite Pavlova in bent banana sauce, and with lightly flamed, cane-toad topping. You're right, mate, that'll straighten their hair. Pardon me, Faith? Oh, you're bringing George Dubya on a spit, Battle Him of the Republicans style. Hmmm....that sounds like a rather hard WMD dessert. A piece of cake for a sweet Alabama gal, you reckon, good buddy. Yes, it will curl their hair. What am I bringing? Devil cake! It was on special in The Devil's Tea House. Dear old Mr. Beelzebub promised it would singe the hair on an asbestos golf ball, not to mention set the soul on fire!

What do you two ladies think about having the party at Bob's place....what's it called again? Angels Bugging Our Pillows? Pardon, Faith? It's not that? Oh, it's Angels Mugging Our Pillows, is it? What's that, Carolyn? It's Angels Humping Our Pillows, you reckon? Good heavens, what a devil of a name! The horny little buggers! I wonder if Bob knows why the blighters are fixated on pillows? Mind you, angels doing something unspeakable to pillows might be Bob's cryptic way of saying that her place is a night drop-in shelter for angels fallen on hard times....booted out of heaven as fallen angels.

Be that as it may! I wonder how angels will fit in at a New Year's Eve party? You know, people go in the hope of having a devil of a good time. Hang on! Now there's a thought! Perhaps we can have the resident angels and some visiting devils engaged in a tag-team mud-wrestling match in the cranberry bogs behind Bob's place. Papa can be the referee. We could announce the entertainment on the invitations we're about to mass email out. We could suggest that Archangel Michael and Diablo Devil will start the match. That they'll be slugging it out with pillows while balanced on a greasy log straddling the deepest bog. Guests can chuck cranberries at them while screaming for the team. Mind you, that's abit like throwing cowering lions to roaring Christians.

What do you two think about that idea? And which one of you two is going to break it to Bob? Not that I know what her reaction will be when she learns we've decided to hold the party at her place. She might want to wrestle us in the bogs. Hmmm.

Ladies and gentleman, welcome my friends to the show that never ends...oh, wait a minute, this will end at the stroke of midnight when we all must pay for the frivolities of the past few weeks. Santa has been restored to his proper place with the Missus. And once again, I'm another of those fallen angels that need a pillow to place her lonely head on.

In order to get over the loss of another fine man, I'm in the mood for some serious Cosmopolitans which I understand involve lots of vodka and cranberry juice - mind you, not that I've ever had one. But since Bob is well placed next to the bog, where else to have a party to take my mind off the sorrows of parting? And if angels must fall, then I'd much rather fall into the pillowy softness of Bob's fine digs in the bogs of North Carver.

And food...my goodness, let me hit the kitchen! First off, we must start with the traditional southern delicacy that's served on New Year's Day. It's sure to guarantee good luck and fortune in the new year. It's called hoppin john and it is a delicious dish of black-eyed peas, ham hock and rice. Just imagine, we will be hoppin' with the john...ooo...wait, that doesn't sound right, does it? Ah, well...Then we'll have some shrimp and grits, stuffed crabs, baked flounder, cornbread, gumbo, etouffee, jambalaya, dirty rice, fried oysters...have I hit the right buttons yet? How about those desserts? Pecan pie, bread pudding, cheesecake, death by chocolate cake...are ya hungry yet, chil'? Meet me on the bog bayou!

Hungry, Faith? Lawdie, you've inspired some seriously prolific, pancreatic-precipitation and I already feel my insulin levels going ape-poo as a result. I'm of a mind to forego my usual Vegemite-enhanced treats in order to try your delicious down-home delights. However, I know there'll be some guests who simply won't consider it a party unless the yeast-boosted goodies are there. So I'll bring my gear anyway, and if we end up having to shove it all into the bog at the end of the night, then so be it. It could, in fact, be just the thing to make next year's cranberries even more wonderfully nutritious.

I commiserate with you on the loss of the chubby chap in red, but I think deep down you knew where that diverting episode was going. Men are, after all, creatures of habit! If for centuries he's been doing the North Pole bit about shiney-eyed children but also hanging out with the little lady thing, we can be sure that no amount of good southern lovin' was going to shift that particular paradigm. But I'm more than happy to join you in getting squiffy-arsed-squiggly-eyed in order to forget us being fallen angels and/ or humping deprived pillows. Mainly because I don't know if I can tolerate Magi's proposed Angel Mud-Wrestling through sober eyes. It all sounds just a tad like something Brittney Spears would do on a slow weekend in order to make the papers.

Good thing we're not that desperate yet, hey, Faith? Faith, why are you grinning? Oh, crikey! Pretending you're merely seeking the skin-enhancing benefits of being plastered in mud is not going to convince anybody, you know. Oh, all right, bugger it then - shove over, I take up more room than you, remember! Stone the flaming crows, it's colder than crap in here! How do these Yankee doodles stand it? Brrrrrrr. Anyway, so how does this work again? Pinned for three seconds and we're out? (Hmm, three seconds, hey...Sounds a bit like a frolic with an Aussie bloke to me.) Or first to deflower an angel goes straight to the burning pits, do not pass Limbo? And pass me a double Cosmopolitan while you're at it. I've always done my best mud-wrestling while ratty. Happy Bloody New Year, indeed!

Hey you guys, are you seriously thinking about having the New Year's party out in the frickin' cranberry bogs? I mean, I think it's a great idea that you're thinking the grand slam should be in Massachusetts. After all, didn't our famed Red Sox win the National Title; and isn't this BLUE state the home of Gather, the mother lode of serious Writing Essentials? But mud-wrestling in the cranberry bogs?You have to be kidding! Don't you know that today is smack in the middle of our winter? The cranberry bogs are covered with three feet of thick Viagra snow. Even Mr. Beelzebub with his blow torch will have a hard time melting that.

However, if it's wintry type of fun you have in mind, then the cranberry bogs are a great place for it. We can build snow forts and have great snowball fights - a lot less deadly than actually going to war. Then, of course, some might bring their ice skates and do some slipping and sliding around politicali ssues, as do our presidential candidates. Hey, maybe we should invite Hilary, Obama, Romney, McCain and Huckleberry! That should be fun....we could see some real back sliding!

But not to worry! The Pine Street Inn of Fallen Angels would be glad to host such a party...aren't we all fallen angels making our way back home? As to the humping - yes, there's plenty of that happening in the Inn.The angels believe in a regimen of active exercise before they go to sleep at night. But, hey, what would our world be without a few little horizontal angels?

Yes, I think the New Year's party will be a hit. I'll provide the space at my place. But Carolyn and Faith will have to do the cooking. No, Magi, just like me, you're too challenged in the cooking department. You can keep the campfire going....having been down in the Burning Pits, you're quite skilled at that.