Today's SideDeal
¯\_(ツ)_/¯
Random Meh Merch Bundle
- Mehrry Christmehs!
- Four random pieces of Meh merchandise
- Plus ten Meh balloons
- Can they make a margarita: Very unlikely
Ghastly Comfort XVIII: The Christmas Special
Dearest Mother,
Merry Christmas! I am, of course, disappointed that I could not make it home this year. Moreover, I am sad that you could not come here, to this inn perched upon a cliff overlooking an ever-tumultuous sea and framed by ever-grey skies, bequeathed to me by unsigned letter. But it is, honestly, for the better. I would have been far too distracted to be good company.
There was an issue with the roof, I am afraid. Some sort of animal managed to burrow under some of the shingles. I called a roofer, who came and inspected a problem. He then called a pest control specialist, who, upon investigating the issue herself, called a priest for some reason. I refuse to share the costs of the repairs, removal, and “spiritual realignment” in total, as they are exorbitant.
At any rate, with all the coming and going, I barely had a moment to myself. When not discussing roof-related matters or attending to the day-to-day tasks of hotel management, I spent my time searching for a gift to give Hugo, my steadfast companion here, the sole employee I inherited and the only one impervious to the epidemic of turnover that afflicts this place. Usually, I simply give him a cash bonus, but this year, I thought I would sweeten things with an additional keepsake of some sort to show my appreciation. Hugo, though, expressed no gratitude whatsoever!
First I gave him a copy of A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens, but he claimed he had never heard of the book or its author. Furthermore, when I explained that the plot involved a man being visited by three ghosts on Christmas Eve, he dismissed the work’s merits outright, telling me he had no interest in reading about some “lucky soul who is visited by a mere trio of spirits on a single night of the year.”
Next, I purchased him a pair of binoculars, believing he had once told me of his interest in bird watching. It turns out I had misheard him, however. Hugo does not bird watch; rather, he must always be on watch for birds who wish to do him harm. He then proceeded to tell a complicated story about being tricked by “a false falconer” into “speaking a nasty incantation” within an aviary. (Or something along those lines. Truth be told, I struggled to follow.)
I proposed a few more ideas–a watch, a piece of art for his quarters, a nice lamp–but he refused each for equally inscrutable reasons. Ultimately, he asked for an assortment of merchandise from a favorite store of his: a bundle of four random pieces and ten branded balloons. When I asked why, he told me he found the store’s community to his liking. “They can be a bit off-center,” he said, “like myself.” I did not ask for further details, happy enough just to find something he liked.
Do write and tell me how your holidays went! Did father and the stable hands continue their tradition of singing carols to the horses? I certainly hope to be home next year to partake. Or to have you here! I can even put you and father in one of our premium suites, directly under the recently repaired patch of roof!
Sincerely,
Miranda Prillchisky
Proprietor
The Dread Inn at Death Rock
