2.12. Since I Lost My Baby

Just teasing with that title, folks. Balki and I didn't lose ANOTHER baby this week. At least, not as far as I know. The title refers to our attempts to reunite a lovesick Mr. Twinkacetti with his wife, which he definitely did not deserve.

We were opening shop for the day at the Ritz, and before I had the "OPEN" sign flipped around Balki was already annoying the shit out of me. I was trying mightily to be the bigger man and ignore him, when we heard rattling around in Twinkie's office. A burglar! It had to be! I grabbed a baseball bat by the front door, crouched into an extra-lethal ninja pose and stalked toward the office. I handed Balki a sheet, and all black-ops style silently instructed him to throw it over the intruder's head so I could beat him to death with my bat.

It would be our first murder. 

We closed in on the office and took positions on either side of the door. I raised my bat. Balki raised his sheet. The office door opened, and Mr. Twinkacetti stumbled out in pajamas. Balki threw the sheet over his head and Twinkie just stood there letting whatever was happening play out (the man really does have the patience of a saint).

Although he owns the store and is almost always there before Balki and I decide to wander in, we never considered it might be Twinkie. I thought about bashing his head in anyway; I'd been storing up bloodlust since Balki arrived and I finally had an outlet for it. But Balki set him free.

 Apparently he's been sleeping in the office because he forgot his anniversary for the sixteenth year in a row, and Mrs. Twinkacetti got sick of his bullshit and threw his ass out. Speak of the devil, she strolled in right at that moment, and Balki immediately wished her a happy anniversary in front of the old man - which I thought was downright diabolical. Balki is at his absolute worst and most vicious around Twinkie, and I kind of love it. 

So Mrs. T demanded a divorce right in front of us, running through a litany of offenses from gambling to wild nights out with the boys, and then smirked and told him the magic is gone. She waved her fancy chinchilla scarf in his face and stormed off, leaving Twinkie miserable and contemplating suicide - so I told him to go screw basically, and Balki invited him into our home. 

Clearly Balki and I were not on the same page with the whole "take Twinkacetti in, or hope he dies alone" debate; so I pulled him aside for a quick sidebar while Twinkie looked on, all vulnerable and lost puppy dog at Balki's offer, which I found disgusting. 

I told Balki I drew the line at letting Twinkie sleep under my roof and Balki told me I had to break the news to him then. This was, of course, much more difficult to do since Balki put the offer on the table without consulting me, but que sera sera, right? I approached the shell of a man who we rely on for money and shelter, and tried to let him down easy - but he broke down into a sobbing puddle, and I broke, God help me. Twinkacetti would be living with us until he figured his own shit out. 

Later that evening, Balki and I were speculating on what kind of wild hijinks might be in store for us with Twinkie living here, when he burst in all fidgety and weird with a sixpack, calling us "great guy pals." He basically said he was done with Mrs. T, and down to party. I tried to tell Balki we should just leave him alone for a couple of days and he and Edwina would figure it out, but Balki insisted on prying deep into the man's psyche until he could break him. Twinkie had no interest; he just wanted to watch porno on our TV. Together. With beers.

But Balki wouldn't let up. He hammered away at Twinkie with themes of loneliness and misery until the guy collapsed again, and committed to getting Edwina back - even if it took months - then stormed off to my bedroom to cry himself to sleep. I committed to saving the Twinkacettis marriage then and there, just to get rid of him; but as you all know, I don't have a lot of luck chasing off unwanted houseguests. The next morning we called Edwina while Twinkie was doing God-knows-what in my bedroom, and we basically lied to her until she agreed to see him for five minutes. Twinkie emerged from my room looking like garbage. He declared that he had read my diary, and that I'm "a sick man." So yeah fair enough, probably, I'm busted there. I assume he's talking about this journal, but it's also possible he found the secret one.

Anyway, Balki told him we'd bought him five minutes with Mrs. T. Twinkie started making a master plan to take her to a rib joint so she could watch him eat, and we weren't having that. We decided to playact the Twinkacettis' reunion at Tony's Mambo Room for him, so he could see how it's done. As the best actor in the house I would, of course, play Mrs. Twinkacetti. I slipped effortlessly into character, softening my features and draping a shawl around my neck. Balki launched into a surprisingly charming soliloquy about my beauty, and the performance was so raw and real that Twinkie got uncomfortable and tried to leave. But we wouldn't let him; we were pretty dialed into the scene by then, and he was going to sit and watch Goddammit. 

We went pretty deep with it. Balki seduced me expertly; I have to admit I was caught up in the moment. 

"Take me," I heaved, and was kind of willing to just see what happened next. Balki finally broke character - I think my performance creeped out even him. Excuse me, my phone's ringing. It's the Academy. Thanks but no thanks. The Oscars are too commercial, jokers.

Twinkie confessed that he could never pull off that kind of heat. This is true, but then he started whining that he would just live with us forever, and Balki and I both kind of panicked. Realistically I would think after a week or two, if things weren't playing out he'd just get his own place. But in the moment it seemed real. We spent the rest of the day prepping him.

---

Cut to Tony's. We were both counseling Mr. Twinkacetti, who was a nervous wreck. I was telling him to just play it cool and smooth, just talk his way back in no matter what it took; but Balki told him he had to actually commit to change, and be willing to be a better husband. Twinkie went with the sweet talk, because I am always right and everyone else can go to Hell, forever. 

Edwina showed up, and her body language was screaming "not a chance." He launched into the smooth lines about her eyes that I fed him, but she wouldn't even let him start. 

I'm not counting this as a loss in my column because he never got to drop the winning pickup line that I had cooked up. She wanted him to shoot straight with her about why she should give him another chance. Twinkacetti went on to bury himself pretty deep by describing a date he had at Tony's with some other woman that he cheated on her with while they were engaged. I actually really do think she should divorce him and take all his money. Twinkie ran back to where we were hiding to regroup, and she busted him and stormed away. 

So Twinkie went to walk it off, and said we didn't have to wait up because he made a key. I actually think he's forgotten that he is our landlord.

The next morning we checked into work and discovered the Twinkacettis in his office, fresh off an all night bone-sesh. Turns out he remembered how he'd won her over in the first place, and used the manipulative power of that memory to bait her back to his office.

He told us to take the day off and we were surprised, because usually we just do that anyway without getting his approval or even telling him. 

The Twinkacettis went back into his office to pound some more, leaving Balki and I with a day off to think about how we really need to move and get new jobs.

2.11. A Christmas Story.

Sorry I didn't make it home for the holidays this year, everyone. The weather conspired against me. I was really hoping to make it, and that you'd all get to meet Balki; if for no other reason to prove that he is, in fact, real. Believe me, I was hella depressed about it. Here's what happened:

It was Christmas Eve. A disparate group of people were gathered around a banquet table in the Ritz singing the Twelve Days of Christmas, which Balki ruined by pretending to not know the words. Mrs. Twinkacetti was leading the chorus, but Mr. Twinkacetti refused to participate.

This makes some amount of sense; since most of the attendees at the Ritz Christmas Party were the same renters who - just a week ago - he had tried to freeze to death after they refused to pay rent, and eventually blackmailed him by putting his life on the line with the mob. I think we all understood why he wasn't exactly in the mood, but good for him for putting on a nice suit and tie and attending the party. Twinkie tossed everyone's asses out the second the song ended, then got in a really traumatic fight with his entire family that ended with him chasing his children out into a busy street. Mrs. Twinkacetti took the opportunity to slip Balki and I the Christmas bonuses we supposedly earned for being great employees (God, she's out of the loop) and headed for the door, leaving Balki and I with unexpected cash. Mine looked like about seven dollars.

I barely even cared though, because I was so excited to get back to Madison for Christmas that I couldn't really think of anything else. I've had a rough year, to say the least. Roughly 100 percent of everything that has gone wrong in my life can be attributed to Balki; beginning with his first day in Chicago when he almost got me fired and put me at odds with my employer/landlord for time eternal. On the plus side, I seem to be slithering a little closer each week to something like a relationship with Jennifer Lyons, who I never would have met without Balki's Boner-Compass steering him into the gym where she worked; so I can't say it has all been bad. 

But no matter what the circumstances, I really need this trip. Christmas in Wisconsin is just what you think it is. Apple cider cooking on the fireplace. the whole family standing around the piano signing carols. And me, festooned in a festive sweater and drunk on eggnog, talking shit about Balki while he's definitely in earshot. 

Probably.

Right, Balki was planning to come with me. I don't have a clear concept of how they celebrate Christmas in his Godless, stick-fighting sheep-loving homeland at all - Balki's sense of religion seems to be a confused mishmash of outdated superstitions and Madonna lyrics. So whether he cared about the American version or not was unclear; but I sure as hell wasn't leaving him alone in the apartment. At least all of you at home would finally see what I've been living with first hand.

So anyway, we cleaned up the store and headed upstairs. We were packing our shit and enjoying cocoa in the apartment, feeling festive as all getout, when the snow began to fall. Yes, that is foreshadowing. It was in this overdose of holiday merriment that I decided to confide in Balki why I was so excited to get back to Madison for Christmas: as always, there's more to it than just visiting with family and enjoying the spirit of the season. See, there was something special about this Christmas in particular.

This is Larry's year.

As you may have noticed, there's a pretty consistent thread of competition for dominance in the Appleton blood, and as one of nine children I really get off on any opportunity to have the spotlight on me. This year I was going to be the Christmas Boy, which means I get to hand out the presents. We each take turns, so my chance won't come around again until 1995 - and I'll surely be dead by Balki's hand long before that. So yeah, 1986 is a Big Christmas.

Balki confirmed that Christmas is at least some kind of thing on Mypos, but it's... different there. They eat Baklava instead of pork pie, and instead of setting up a Christmas tree they capture a sea turtle and torture it for 24 hours. I am not making this up. But he was sad about it and I feel bad for anyone who's going to miss their family on Christmas, so I offered him expert comfort. We were in full-blown, heart to heart best friends zone, so you just know that disaster was looming. Just then Jennifer and Mary Anne showed up to say goodbye - they were going skiing together for Christmas, and spoke really forebodingly about the gathering snow that Balki and I continued to ignore as a potential travel problem.

Here's how badass I am - I physically blocked them from leaving the apartment and pointed out that we were all standing under the mistletoe. Everyone got all bashful and shit, but I had this planned out. I kissed Mary Anne first - on the mouth, right in front of Jennifer and Balki - then pounced on Jennifer like a spider monkey and we made out HARD. This answers the question you've all been asking, my faithful readers: yes, I've finally broken through Jennifer's icy exterior and am now porking her on the reg. 

So I sent Balki in to follow my lead and kiss both of them (oh, right, we're all perverts, I might not have mentioned that), and he kissed Jennifer on the cheek but she was still literally shaking from the release. Then Mary Anne grabbed him, threw him violently down and jammed her tongue down his throat. Then they both ran away. These girls are freaks. Balki asked how I made that happen, but the answer is obvious: I'm a million feet tall! Nothing's gonna stop me now!

Everything in my life was going perfectly for once. I couldn't be stopped. I called the airline to make sure our flight was on time, and discovered that the airport was snowed in. Of course it was. We were stuck in Chicago. 

I refused to buy it though; I'VE BEEN WAITING NINE YEARS TO BE THE CHRISTMAS BOY. Balki and I started plowing through bus companies, looking for the next chance of scoring two seats to Madison. I learned that what was happening outside our window was in fact a blizzard and the roads were closed. I probably should have been putting in the absolute bare minimum effort to monitor the weather over the past week. Usually the media outlets go out of their way to give you a heads-up that a blizzard is coming on one of the biggest travel days of the year. 

But there hadn't been time! I'd been planning that mistletoe mauling for WEEKS! 

I still wasn't giving up. I'M THE CHRISTMAS BOY! Let's be honest here folks, it's the only reason I was bothering to go home! Balki suggested we just take the 'Stang, which I think was meant in jest but I was willing to try anything. We piled our stuff in the car and headed for the highway.

We didn't make it far.

I benched the 'Stang on the sidewalk within a few feet of our apartment. Balki, who had given up on our fruitless mission hours before, was way ahead of me emotionally. He launched into a new effort to bring Christmas back to the apartment with us, and try to make the best of a bad situation. We walked over to the Christmas Tree lot, and he knocked on the door of the crappy half-trailer where you would normally pay for your tree. To our surprise, a man emerged. He said that he was out of trees, and we'd interrupted his dinner. 

HOW FUCKING SAD IS THAT? He LIVES there? And his old lady started hassling him for leaving the door open. The checkout trailer is the home he's provided for his family! Is there even heat in there? Is this the same as being homeless? We need to have a serious conversation about the way we treat tree dealers in this country. So the guy said he didn't have any trees for sale, and Balki found a dead one in a dumpster that he talked the guy into giving us for free. 

I know that while you're reading this Balki sounds downright heroic, and in retrospect he probably was; but the last thing that someone wants when they're in a depressive funk is a relentlessly positive person in their face trying to solve all their problems. I stormed off to clear my head and sulk.

---

When I got back to the apartment, Balki had done a surprisingly decent job decorating it. There was a roaring fire in the fireplace, and a nice sign and garland draped over the foyer, and he'd done his best with the tree. I have to admit, the Turnip has come a long way since "Happy birthday Cousin Lary." I went to put my coat in the closet and he pounced out of it wearing a Santa suit and started screaming that he's Balki Claus in my face. 

Naturally, I asked him where he got a Santa suit and all of the decorations on Christmas Eve in a blizzard; and naturally, he stole it all from the Ritz without thinking twice. 

I was way down in the dumps, but Balki refused to give up on me. He had scoured the streets of Chicago until he found a Jewish food store and bought a bunch of food, and offered to do whatever I wanted that reminds me of Madison. I told him all I wanted was to be left alone.

And that's when Balki turned on me.

He slowly pulled his Santa hat down, and told me that now I was "making Balki mad." He'd spent all day trying to make a nice Christmas for me, and I was being a brat about it. Fair enough. He started whining about all the weird shit he was missing on Mypos right now, and how I had told him he needs to adjust to changes in his life and move on, and I could take my own advice. 

He's come a long way from "what the matter with you is?"

Balki suggested we open presents, and I told him we always open presents Christmas morning. That's when our other roommate, "good old physical violence and intimidation" finally showed up for the party. Balki grabbed me by the throat and told me he was making the rules. Whatever happened to "we can do whatever you're used to doing in Madison" from a couple seconds ago?

I fearfully acquiesced, and Balki showed me mercy. He let me be the Christmas boy, so I handed out our presents. I gave Balki a sweet boombox, complete with a Wayne Newton tape. He gave me a really impressive, hand made ornate blanket.

Apparently he's been working on it for me all year. He has stitched and sewed away at this blanket for an hour every night after I go to sleep, since the day he moved here. 

Hold on a sec. Got something in my eye.

The gift had reminded me of something super nice I did one time. When I was a kid I decided buying presents for my mom wasn't enough, so I made her a potholder that she went nuts over. I had thought at the time that it was pretty shoddy craftsmanship but my mom said it was the best gift she ever got. So yeah, I get it Balki, we're both really thoughtful guys.

I finally understood why the gift had been such a big deal to my mom - it was a gift from the heart, not from a store. I told Balki that the blanket was the nicest present anyone had ever given me. I felt the Christmas feeling surge through my heart. The Christmas lights on Balki's fire hazard of a tree came on, powered by the pure electricity of my holiday spirit/unrelenting machismo. Balki and I hugged as a chorus of children collected outside our window to sing Christmas carols (through the blizzard) and all was right with the world. Merry Christmas from Larry and Balki, everyone. 

Quick recap: I'm totally porking Jennifer.