Tag Archives: December

New to the adventure? Get caught up to avoid saying “what the fuck is this?” to yourself!

December 1
December 2
December 3

In a flash you materialize into a seat inside a classic barbershop, caped up and ready for a trim. Get it? The hair from that old man’s hat was the clue. It was either going to be a barbershop or a laser hair removal clinic but since I’ve never been to the latter because my hair is removing itself, I went with what I know. Enough about me, let’s get back to you. A short man with grey hair comes up behind you.

“How you want cut?” he asks.

“I’ll take the usual,” you reply.

You used to do this trick when you wanted to impress a date at a restaurant. You’d ask the waiter for “the usual” despite not being a regular, tricking your date into believing you’re hip to a scene and that you live life without menus. It’s a risky movie but you figure a pro barber (unlike a unlicensed waiter) would have a client elaborate on such a request especially when you’ve never actually been to this place before, only the barber starts clipping away without a moment’s hesitation and your signature look that your stylist from the real world calls “The Leftovers” begins to disappear.

hehehehehe

Unlike the other stops on your strange trip, you don’t seem to be in any imminent danger here in the barbershop unless this guy starts combing your eyes or something. This gives you a chance to reflect on what you’ve been through so far, hopefully leading to a way out. Here are the facts:

– Every portal has been sealed by a gate emblazoned with a day in December
– Each new stop on the trip doesn’t smell the way you figured it would (the barbershop smells like banana rum instead of your old man’s ties like you figured)
– Your favourite part of the journey so far has been the steamy sex in the longboat you had with a Viking Lord, which we couldn’t divulge in previous posts because it’s way too gross.

You snap out of it and stare into the mirror to see how the barber is doing. You like what he’s done with the sides but are a little unsure about the way he’s clipping your upper wave. Oh well.

The barber wraps up and you’re wondering what to do next because you don’t have any money and last time you didn’t pay a barber the guy made you give a haircut to his dying grandpa using nothing but a butter knife and your lucky shark’s tooth. You realize you haven’t had to poo, pee or puke since this whole thing started so you ask the barber where the washroom is. Instinct is telling you there’s a portal in there and you shudder at the thought of climbing into a toilet for the third time this year. The barber ignores you and says, “You getta me a present?”

“Ha, um, yeah I think I might take a dump, definitely,” you say.

“No no, not poota, mina birthday isa today, you getta me a present?” he replies with the hopeful, pathetic stare of a polecat whose trainer won’t let it have any peanut butter until it performs a simple spin.

“What day is it today?” you ask, hoping to hear anything but December 4 so you won’t have to kill this guy or slice him open or whatever.

“Issa Dicembre four, a quattro, you givea me a kiss,” the barber demands as he  puckers his lips that look like dried worms.

Hugh Hefner’s upper lip, shed 1999

The portal! Without thinking about it, you give the barber the kind of smooch you might administer to your child’s teacher after they tell you your kid won “most rad student”. The barber pulls away with his eyes closed in ecstasy. He mumbles something about wine then procures a red lollipop from his wallet. While the wallet is open you notice there aren’t any bills, only a few leaves of romaine lettuce and vow to remember to replicate it once you get back home. You unwrap the sweet, give the barber a wink, lick the pop as lustfully as possible (you’re never going to see the guy again, who cares?) and disappear. You hope your next stop has a bathroom.

Get caught up on the adventure with previous treats:
December 1
December 2

If you don’t get caught up you’re stupid but hey, I don’t run your life, your WALLET does. 

After stepping through the fridge and into the walk-in freezer on the other side of the portal you take a look back and the fridge has disappeared. In its place is a regular wall with a dartboard that someone stuck a picture of Bobby Flay to.

You immediately encounter Chef Morris, the man whom you saw through the portal. He doesn’t seem to notice you until you clear your throat, which you didn’t actually need to do because unobstructed throats run in your family along with really fragrant ears.

“Do we have any rabbits?” he asks.

“I’m not sure, I’m new here,” you reply.

Seems like you’re getting comfortable on this adventure! You smile to yourself when reflecting how up until this point your journey has combined elements of your favourite movie, Stay Tuned, and your least favourite TV show, Quantum Leap, with a dash of Sliders, which you never got into because the neighbour boy who owned a skateboard that said “BUTT DOG” on it, once called it “gay”.

“Go to table four and tell them that we’d be happy to cook them some lard as we are out of rabbit, then go out back and make sure no rats are licking the ice,” Morris demands.

You exit the walk-in freezer and enter the kitchen. Line cooks are busy cooking up what smells like bacon and eggs but the dominant scent is definitely nutmeg. Puzzled but not undeterred, you make your way to the dining room.

The restaurant’s east end. It’s not the real restaurant from the adventure, we couldn’t find it again.

It’s a small yet cozy restaurant whose patrons appear to be a mix of the elderly and the East Asian. You’ve never been good at telling apart East Asian ethnicities which you attribute to a lack of research and a racist babysitter you once had who ended up shaping your life more than you would’ve hoped. She’s also the reason you’ve never tried a Filet O’Fish. Anyway, you gotta find table four.

Unfortunately the tables aren’t labelled, but you smile when you realize that “table” and “label” rhyme and that you’ll definitely keep that in mind in case you rap battle another mom next Easter.

You’re about to give up and go outside to the futuristic looking city you see out of the restaurant’s window, but something else catches your attention. One of the old men is wearing a hat that looks like this:

You can’t think of any sports teams or vacation resorts called “December 3” and decide this must be your ticket outta here. You approach the table with your hands on your knees, just as your high school home economics teacher taught during the restaurant unit before the school found out he was actually an Australian comedian shooting a prank show.

“Pardon me, the chef is sorry to inform you that we are out of rabbit but can offer you all a nice stewed lard,” you tell the table utilizing your best lisp, also taught to you by Mr. O’Snaz during waiter lessons.

“That will be fine but we’re not paying for lard,” the man in the head responds.

Since you have no clue what the restaurant’s policy on free food is and because you’d really like to get on with this adventure, you snatch the man’s hat off his head and run back into the kitchen. You don’t have much time before the old man and his companions find you so you look into the hat expecting to gaze into some fantastical world. Instead, all you see is some loose hair, probably left behind by the balding head of its previous owner, who you can hear approaching, fast. It sounds like this:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LulScBMT-Sg

You put the hat on but instead of it stopping on your head, it envelops your whole body and you disappear. The man enters the kitchen in a huff and is quickly showered in oil and lemon juice as per restaurant code and its hard stance on unwanted kitchen visitors. Where to next? Tune in tomorrow to find out!

Find out the treat behind December 1 by clicking here!

You step through the odd painting onto what appears to be the soundstage of a television sitcom.

The set looks like the kitchen from a show you used to watch called The Wonderful Dr. Dad and suddenly, the mysterious painting of the man and boy makes sense. It’s the series’ stars, Gary Oldman and little Henry Underwet from the episode where Dr. Dad turns himself into a balloon so he can attend his son’s birthday party without his ex-wife finding out.

Before you have a chance wrap your head around this new information you get a tap on the shoulder, and turn around to find Gary Oldman himself staring at you.

“I know they don’t like me snacking in between takes but it’s been two hours since my last biscuit and if I don’t feed soon there’s no telling how it’ll effect my character and if my character doesn’t perform then the show doesn’t work and if the show doesn’t work you don’t have a job and if you don’t have a job, well… I’m not sure what you’ll do with the rest of your life but the fact that you’re a fetcher on a poorly rated sitcom can’t mean you have very many useful skills, capiche?”

Stunned, you muster the only words that come to mind:

“Yes Mr. Oldman, I’ll fetch you some dinner.”

To which he replies:

“Darling it’s quarter past two if I ate dinner now I might be inclined to turn into a werewolf. And please, call me Mr. Oldman.”

You’d always heard about the eccentricities of actors and make a mental note to write of this encounter in the comments section of the next blog you read that mentions Gary Oldman.

You’re off the find the actor some food and quickly locate a fridge in a kitchen area used by craft services. Before opening the fridge you take note of the art adorning its facade–mostly notes from the crew joking about stolen plums and a racy picture of Kathy Ireland sucking on an ice cube with “who is this??” scrawled over top by an inquisitive horn dog. Before you have time to provide the answer using a marker you find tucked behind your ear,  something else attracts your attention:

Maybe it’s simply a bit of anti-war propaganda spread by Hollywood liberals who wouldn’t know a front line if it was drawn on the back of their hand with a ruler, but something tells you it’s more than that. You take a deep breath and open the fridge to reveal:

Impossible! A full, walk-in freezer behind the door of a standard-sized Maytag? You look behind you to see a pissed-off Gary Oldman fast approaching brandishing a knife and fork. You take two deep breaths: one for courage and one to taste the air of network TV one last time and step through the fridge. The adventure continues…

It’s that time of year when you can start talking about Santa’s sack of toys without mom slapping your chest and telling you “it ain’t quite time for the big guy to fly”. In honour of all the good things that happen during the Holiday season, glennmacaulay.com presents this year’s Advent Calendar Adventure…

You awaken on the marble floor of a wide, opulent hallway lined with enormous pillars of obsidian holding up 75 foot ceilings. Each wall is covered with unusual and unfamiliar pieces of art of varying size and style. You rub your tired eyes, stand up and catch your reflection in a polished mirror that’s been grafted to one of the walls below a painting of a guitar with boobs. You’re dressed in plain white cotton from head to toe and on your feet you wear shoes of red canvas. You have no memory of how you arrived here. The last thing you remember clearly is being called to a meeting at work where an an improv troupe was attempting to sell the company on a corporate package that included expert instruction from a guy who looked like a bat.  You look up and down the hallway, which appears to have no end or beginning. Out of the corner of your eye, one piece of art catches your attention. It looks like this:

There’s something that sets this piece apart from the rest but you can’t quite put your finger on it until you ignore every rule you’ve ever heard regarding art galleries and put your finger on it. It seems to be on some sort of hinge so you you feel around its frame and swing it open toward you. On the other side, another painting reveals itself:

You don’t know why, but something about the strange painting entices you to touch it, probably because there isn’t anyone around to tell you otherwise and touching the first painting yielded results. Rather than feel the texture of the painting itself, you hand goes right through it as if it wasn’t there. You pull your hand back suddenly and examine it closely. It’s fine. Without second-guessing you climb through the painting and an adventure that you’ll never forget, begins…