Finished January 5, 1998, after over a year of hard labor.
"God bless us, indeed" said his proud mother, Babs Ratchet. "And may the new year bring us all that we need - finances so I can buy my own beauty salon, a penile implant for poor tired Grandpa, beauty school tuition for Chester, and for you, dear son, an ointment that will cure that nasty rash you're always scratching."
Suddenly, a knock rang at the door of their poor, but clean dwelling. "Why, Mama, it's Epifania Sloodge, the owner of the "Curl Up and Dye Salon" and your boss!", cried Chester, the oldest son, whose willowy bearing and sense of style led everyone to believe who would follow in his mother's footsteps.
"Whatever could she be doing here? She hates Christmas!" cried Babs.
"Babs," she declared, "we have a hair emergency! The famous female impersonator, Trulee Fabulous, and her Truly Fabulous Review have just arrived in town for their annual Christmas show and they're in need of major work. Get yourself down to the Curl Up and Dye immediately. You have to restyle fifty wigs and perform fifty bikini waxings before midnight! Do it and I might consider raising your salary to minimum wage. Fail, and you're fired! Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes," bewailed Babs, "but how can I do all that work myself? And on Christmas eve, too!"
"I'd volunteer to help you," said Epifania, feigning faint sympathy, "but you know the psychological problems I've had since that nasty waxing incident last month. Plus hair spray aggravates my sinus condition. And I've developed this allergy to setting lotion. And I just had my nails done. I'm going home to take a nap. Now get your butt in gear and get the job done!"
Epifania slammed the door and was gone before Babs could utter even the faintest of protests.
"How will I ever get all that styling and waxing done?" she lamented. "We're doomed. I'll lose my job, the 1975 Dodge Dart will be repossessed, our cable TV service will be terminated, and all our dreams of a better life will remain unfulfilled!"
"I'd help if I could," said Grandpa, limply.
"Me, too!" yelled Teeny Tom, and rashly added, "God bless us everyone!"
"Stuff it, both of you!" said Babs, who was apt to get peevish when she was under stress.
"Mummie, dearest," said Chester, nourishing a secret hope to make his break into competitive hair-styling while learning the finer points of bikini waxing and simultaneously winning a coveted audition for the Truly Fabulous Review, "let me help. I know I could do it. I just know it!"
Knowing Chester's request violated current child labor laws as well as her best maternal instincts, Babs was nevertheless desperate and thus relented. Hiding Grandpa's false teeth and flinging his artificial leg under the sofa, and strapping Teeny Tom into his straight jacket so he wouldn't scratch himself bloody and cause her to be investigated again for child abuse by the Social Service people, she then popped a video into the VCR so the senile old man and the itchy child would have something to occupy their minds, scooped up her favorite styling tools and a box of industrial strength wax, grabbed the keys to the Dart, and - with Chester in tow - hurriedly made her exit.
Meanwhile, Epifania, having arrived at her rent-controlled flat,polished off a bowl of left-over guacamole, and lay down on the sofa to watch a rerun of "It's a Wonderful Life."
Epifania belched, "Never again will I eat guacamole with marzipan. I swear."
"That won't be enough, Miss Sloodge" Jimmy began. "I'm afraid that I'm here to tell you that before this afternoon is up, you'll either have a change of heart, or you'll be joining me in reruns of 'You Can't Take It With You' and 'No Time For Comedy', and I just know you wouldn't like living in black and white. Now take my hand, Miss Sloodge. We've got surfing to do" and with that, he took her hand, and leapt to the computer, where he escorted her through the screen by the miracle of modern technology, and straight to http://www.jimmy.org/jimmy/films.
Although Epiphania just knew it was the guacamole and marzipan talking, she had to ask, "What are you doing in my dream?"
Jimmy Stewart shrugged, "It's not a dream, Miss Sloodge. I'm the Ghost of Christmas Movies Past, here to show you how much better the world would have been had you been a better person."
"Ghost of Christmas Movies Past?" Epiphania laughed. "Now I know it's a dream, because if this was true, Alistair Sim would be the Ghost of Christmas Movies Past. Hah! I've caught you!"
Jimmy Stewart shook his head sadly, "Sorry to say, you're wrong, Miss Sloodge. Mr. Sim gets pretty busy this time of year. He spends the season haunting Ted Turner for colorizing him."
Now Epiphania was really getting concerned. The web site Jimmy was showing her was full of glorious black and white images of a kinder gentler time, so unlike the life she led herself, or forced those who worked for her to live. In the movies, people wore beautiful clothings in shades of grey, and always managed to solve their problems most civilly within an hour and a half. Epiphania covered her ears, "No! No more! I can't stand it!" And as she screamed and writhed in the black and white universe, she suddenly realized she was on her own sofa, the ending credits were rolling, and she'd mussed her beehive hairdo into oblivion.
"Oh, it's one of those puppet animated Christmas specials!" A uncharacteristic smile lit her face as she hummed the Heatmiser song and lolled back to take it in. On the screen, a sad little girl puppet was writing to Santa, "Please, Santa Claus, let me have a Style-Me Barbie like my sister Ermintrude..."
"Why, it's...me!" Epifania was amazed to see her blocked-out childhood memories played on the screen in glorious stop-motion. On the screen, Ermintrude was crying "No, Eppy, no!" as Epifania's alter ego lit a match and torched her sister's hapless Style-Me Barbie in a jealous rage.
Epifania switched channels again,this time breaking a nail in the process, but yet another scene appeared.
Epiphania's heart nearly stopped. For there, playing the role of herself, was none other than Kathie-Lee Gifford. And while Epiphania's eyes were glued to that snowy channel, Kathie-Lee looked straight at her, and in her warmest and most heart-felt way, implored Epiphania with these words...
'Honey. I'm the ghost of Christmas Movies Present. Do you really want to see all the sordid details of your affair with your sister's husband? Don't you want to start all over again? Don't you want to make the world a better place? Don't you want me to go away? Because you know, I've got a contract to do a miniseries on your wicked ways, and, to tell the truth, I really don't think I'll be able to let Cody and Cassidy watch their mother portray you. And if you don't go changing pretty soon, sister, you'll have to start paying part of my salary. Or maybe I'll just have the powers that be hire you on to do my hair. You know, I like it just so. And I just know we'd be the best of friends, after we got to know each other.'
Epiphania couldn't help but scream inwardly at the thought of doing Kathie-Lee's hair for the next ten seasons of Live! "Make it stop! MAKE IT STOP! I'll do anything! I'll change! I promise! I'll turn over a new leaf!' And as she screamed, the reception got worse and worse, and the picture faded out until all that was left was the snow on the big screen.
She beat upon the screen with her fists (that concealed her broken nails and hopelessly ruined manicure). "Who are you?!" she demanded.
"We're the Ghosts of Dreadful Christmas Music Past," the images chanted as one voice. Then they broke into snatches of song, "Grandma Got Run Over by A Reindeer," "I Saw Mama Kissing Santa Claus," and "All I Want for Christmas is My Two Front Teeth," being the least obnoxious and most recognizable of the lyrics that eventually were drowned out by a blasting muzak version of "The Little Drummer Boy."
"But I've already be haunted by several ghosts!" Epifania wailed. "Even in 'A Christmas Carol,' there were only three!"
An early Michael Jackson, of at least two plastic surgeries ago, leered, "Ah, but that was fiction! This is real life!" and the chipmunks giggled gleeful agreement.
Epifania hurled the martini pitcher through the screen, realizing too late as the screen shattered into a thousand pieces that the warranty didn't cover damage by martini pitcher hurlings and the tax write-off she'd get from such obviously damaged merchandise wouldn't amount to much.
As she tried desperately to pull herself together by applying Lee Press-On Nails in an especially festive color to cover her damaged digits , the "Barum-ba-ba-bum, Barum-ba-ba-bum, Barum-ba-ba-bum's" once again commenced their continued assault upon her eardrums.
In a state of utter and stupendous stress, Epifania staggered to her computer to cheer herself up by checking her e-mail. Perhaps the "body-building junior executive Nobel Prize winner" from Phoenix had attempted to contact her, or maybe the "dashing blonde independently wealthy nuclear physicist Grand Prix race-car driver from Duluth"? While she felt a bit of remorse for having described herself to them-and numerous other men she'd met on-line- as a "ravishing redhead philanthropist former Playboy bunny with a stellar personality," she consoled herself that she'd only exaggerated a tiny bit. She had indeed been a red-head for nearly a week; in her youth, she had sent numerous poses of herself to Hugh Heffner, but they'd apparently become lost in the mail, for she'd heard not a word; and once-in a rare moment of Christian charity-she'd deposited two nickels and a handful of pennies into a Salvation Army bucket. As for her personality, well-"stellar" and "spaced-out" were practically synonymous terms....
As she signed on, something about the computer didn't feel quite right, but she attributed that to the strange feel of the press-on nails against her keyboard. Then, her computer, taking on a mind of its own, went directly to http://www.kmart.com - a site too plebeian for her tastes- where a vision of Chia Pets assaulted her senses.
"Who are you?" she demanded, as the strange creatures sprouted green body coverings.
"We are the Ghosts of Dreadful Christmas Presents!" they yelled back, whereupon they whisked her to http://www.asontv.com/ as quick as a wink.
"This is what lies in store for you if you don't mend your ways!" they sneered.
Epifania could not believe her eyes. Visions of Braidini braiding sets, Flowbee Haircutting Systems, Bacon Magic, Magic Lint Removers,and Ginzu Classic 10-Piece Knive Sets danced in front of her eyeballs. The tackiness was almost more than she could stand, though for a split second, she did find the Safe-T-Man Set remotely appealing. Then the Chia Pets tuned her computer to http://www.1001services.com/jabco/asot.htm where Vanna White's Perfect Smile Solution flashed its unnatural toothy whiteness at her in a most menacing way.
"Owww" the twenty-seventh entertainer howled as Chester, now an expert from sheer repetition, ripped the wax from his/her burly thighs. "Child, you better watch it", cried Flotilla DeBarge, one of the largest and loveliest of the Trulee Fabulous Review's leading ladies. "Sorry, Miss DeBarge" Chester simpered, "but would you teach me just how you get your front to look so natural?" Flotilla, with a big toothy grin, took the shy lad aside, "It's all in the stuffing...let me show you..."
Meanwhile, Trulee Fabulous, a large dominating person in stiletto heels, was frantically trying to keep her girls in order as Babs frantically dealt with each wig. "Just a little more tinsel, honey", Sally Scrumptious pleaded. "I'm out of tinsel" Babs cried, "How about pine cones?"
Epifania snorted in disgust, "She's so stupid - why doesn't she just grab the glitter glue? If I were running this show, I'd have them done and out of there in no time!" A thought occurred to her for the first time, "Maybe I should go down and help..." She shook her head to clear the unfamiliar thought.
Suddenly the movie changed. "It's Ratchet's house. I'd know that tacky This-End-Up furniture anywhere!" Epifania looked on as Grandpa hopped toward the VCR, hoping to remove the "National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation" tape, and to try once again to restore his manhood to its former glory by watching his favorite film, "Nasty Nurses III (with whipped cream)". Realizing belatedly that Babs had locked away all of his personal videos as to not corrupt Teeny Tom, Grandpa began whacking the TV with his artificial leg in frustration. Epifania's attention focused on the poor, straitjacketed child, who had by this time staggered, bound, over to the only carpet in the room and was frantically itching himself on it as best he could. "What is that pathetic child doing?"
Two huge shadows fell over the computer screen as a sweet voice chirped, "He's scratchin' hisself, darlin'! He has a rash, caused by hypersensitivity to those cheap beauty products you use in your salon. His mother's clothes are contaminated with them!"
Epifania whirled around, enraged. "Who are YOU! And how did you get in here? This is a doorman building! Oh, this can't be happening...you're...you're..."
"Yes, honey, Ah'm Dolly Parton!" the white-clad angel chirped. "And Ah'm your Christmas Angel!"
Sneering, Epifania regrouped. "Isn't that getting a little old? I mean, you're certainly no actress, but you just did a special where you played a Christmas angel, and what about that Designing Women episode where Charlene had her baby?"
Dolly lost her perpetual grin for just a moment. "Ah'm here to help you, honey! You need to straighten up your act!" The country angel leaned toward Epifania for emphasis. "You get my point?"
Epifania, nearly impaled, leaned too far back, sending the castered chair spinning across the room, and her liposuctioned tush on the cold floor. "Yeah, both of 'em." She staggered to her feet, helped up by the sweet country-music singer. "So the child's got a rash. How bad could that be? And it's not my problem, anyway!"
The Christmas Angel lost patience. "Look, bitch-lady, you just don't understand. You gotta be nicer to people! Ah think it's time ah turned you over to someone who can really get through to you!
Epifania was horrified to find Dolly approaching closer... closer... invading her personal space. A horrible image sprang to mind - of herself as a landing field for a pair of blimps. Desperate to avoid being smothered, she backed up against her 20" monitor and, losing her balance, fell through the screen!
"Ouch" she whined, finding herself in a deserted room. "What was that?"
Said a high squeaky voice trying to sound imposing from somewhere over her left shoulder, "Epifania Sloooooodddggggge....We have brought you here to show you..." (lightning crash) "your FUTURE!"
Epifania picked herself off the floor and turned slowly. Facing her was the oddest-looking child she had ever seen. Sprawled across an open Barcalounger, blowing soap bubbles, of indeterminate age, sex and skin color, the child wore a silver lame jumpsuit, one shiny glove and a sneer. She sneered right back, "Oh, I'm supposed to be terrified, I suppose. Of you?"
The child waved a soap bubble wand languidly. "I don't care whether you're scared or not. I just have a job to do." A few bubbles were blown in her general direction. "You can call me Dale, by the way."
"Dale? Like Dale Evans? Or Dale Carnegie? Which is it?"
The child smiled. "Well, both, I expect."
Epifania gave up trying not to look stupid. "Well, are you a boy or a girl? And why are you wearing those funny clothes?"
The child smiled secretly. "I dress the way my father taught me to. I'm the Prince of Pop."
Epifania gasped, then looked thoughtful. "Oh, that's why your skin is that odd slate-grey color... and... tell me, does your father touch you a lot?
Dale frowned. "We're here to talk about you, not me. And the sooner we're done, the sooner I can get back to Neverland."
Epifania had been looking around. "This is Bab's apartment!"
"Not any more, " Dale intoned spookily, "Babs lost this place years ago when she was arrested for child abuse."
"Child abuse! You mean..."
"Yes. Teeny Tom finally scratched himself to death. Babs is in jail and Grandpa's in a home for the indigent elderly."
Epifania gasped, "What about...what about..."
Dale continued, "And as for Chester, look out the window..."
Epifania, trembling with fear, made her way to the window and pulled back the curtains. Down the street she could see a tawdry sluttish young woman tiredly strutting back and forth by the corner. But looking closer, Epifania realized that the seedy prostitute adjusting her Dynel wig was no woman. Epifania burst into tears. "Not...Chester! My...."
Dale watched her collapse weeping on the floor. "Yes, Epifania. Your son. The one you bore after you lured your gay partner Jason Gnarly into bed as a joke. And secretly tracked down his adopted mother so you could hire her. And treated badly because you knew she was a much better mother to Chester than you could ever be. And...
Epifania stood up. "Shut up, you twisted androgynous brat! We've got to get him help!"
"You can't, Epifania." The child moonwalked over to her and laid a gloved hand on her shoulder. "You're not really here. The Epifania of 2006 is in a mental hospital." Ignoring her shriek, the child continued, "Teeny Tom wasn't the only one affected by those cheap chemicals, you know. You had one perm too many and it melted your cerebral cortex."
"Noooo....." Epifania wailed, what was left of her eyeliner streaking down her face. "Dale - help me! What can I do? I don't wanna end up in the loony bin!!!!
Dale, with surprising strength, slapped her, leaving the imprint of a thousand tiny little sequins. "Wake up, woman! It's very simple! Just buy tree-friendly chemicals, give Babs a raise, pay for Chester's beauty-school tuition and apprentice him! How hard is that?"
Epifania glared at Dale through her tear-streaked lashes. "That's all? I don't have to be...nice to them, do I?"
Dale smiled, "Well, don't hurt yourself. But I think you'll find that when you start making other people's lives better, it will make yours better as well. The world can be a sunshiny golden place when you are kind to others!"
The child's sickeningly-sweet smile and Precious Moments(tm) eyes urged Epifania to grab the nearest wastepaper basket.
When her fingers stopped trembling, she accessed her first site: http://hillaryshair.com/index.shtml and took comfort at what she saw. Feeling somewhat more in control, she accessed all the links until there were no more left and she was home again. Feeling bolder, her next site was a particular favorite of hers that never failed to comfort her in times of stress: http://www.dallas.net/~styletx/home.html. She caressed the site with her eyes much the same, she suddenly remembered, as she'd caressed the delectable pale body of her former partner, Jason Gnarly, on that portentous night so long ago when she plied him with absinthe - but why did she think of that now? She'd vowed never to think of that night again. What was happening to her?
Realizing that she need advice,support, and guidance (or even any two of the three) from a higher power, Epifania allowed her quivering fingers to quickly access http://www.cyborganic.com/people/carla/Rumpus/Toychest/8bra, where she hoped she'd find an answer....
She burst into the street singing a hearty rendition of "Hold on, I'm coming" and laden with boxes of tinsel destined for Trulee Fabulous at the Curl Up and Dye salon.
When she sat down, she noticed a very familiar-looking bunch sitting in a booth in the back. And at the counter. In fact, she was the only person at the bar who was all alone. All the people in bar were talking to each other, and as she stared at each face in turn, she realized that they were the ghosts who had visited her earlier - all 10,000 of them. Her jaw dropped open.
"Dear, it's not polite to stare," came a voice. Epifania turned to look and saw Mary Poppins sitting with Tinkerbell and Marcia Brady.
"Who are you?" Epifiania asked, frightened.
"We're your good consciences," Marcia answered.
"Shut up, you goody-goody brat!"
Epifania turned to her left and saw Scarface Capone, Captain Hook, and Marilyn Manson, who she assumed was her bad conscience. Epifania secretly agreed with Captain Hook. She had never liked the Brady Bunch. Eppie's head swung from side to side as the six argued with each other.
"I'm not a goody-goody! At least I have two hands!"
"So what? He can scratch your eyes out better!"
"Hey Scarface, let him defend himself!"
"Stay out of this, Poppins!"
"And we dress better too!"
"Manson, you dress like a freak!"
"Aw, Tink you're just jealous because Epifania likes us better!"
At that Tinkerbell began to cry. Epifania began to feel sick and ran out of the bar, martini in hand.
"Merry Christmas, sweetie - you deserve it! Look at these girls!" Trulee trilled as her revue, all decked out in glitter and pine cones, and remarkably smooth skin, struck one last pose before they strutted out to give their talent to the world.
" And your talented son, too!", Trulee whooped as Chester, with an embarrassed grin and Bette Davis eyes, looked on. Once his waxings were done, the "girls" had taken a shine to him and given him some lessons right then and there in makeup and there was no doubt in anyone's mind who was going to become a new star of the revue. "But who is that Miss Thing out there?" Trulee cried as a bedraggled form slowly opened the door and worked her way through the departing drag queens.
"Miss Sloodge!" cried Babs. "What happened?"
Epifania waved her off with a tired hand. "Just get me some coffee, " she pleaded, as one of the Fabulous girls helped her into a shampoo chair and began trying to repair her now-shattered manicure. "I'll get it!" cried Chester, and wobbled off on his still-unfamiliar high heels.
Epifania gave Babs a smile - the first, perhaps, she had given without malice aforethought. "Babs, I've been through a lot tonight - and I know you have, too - but let's have a talk, you and I. How would you like to be my partner?" As Babs fell senseless to the floor, Eppy's smile did as well. "Oops" she sighed, and turned to her manicurist, "Honey, would you hold a bottle of nail polish remover under Babs' nose, please?" Once Babs was revived and Epifania had some coffee in her, they shooed the "girls" out the door, and sat and had a long chat.
The next year was a marvel - with Eppy actually helping out in the store and paying Babs a real salary, Babs was able to get the Ratchets moved to a better home, with a separate apartment and entrance for Grandpa, who had become quite the man about town with his new hydraulics. The Curl Up and Dye began using Tom's of Maine products exclusively, and Teeny Tom's rash went away just like that, although his allergy to deodorant caused him problems in later years. And Chester, why, he went to beauty AND tap school and helped out in the salon when he wasn't on tour with Trulee!
Epifania was never the best boss - her benefit plan still sucked, and they didn't get Columbus day off, but everyone who knew her was amazed at her transformation. "And she used to be such a bitch! And every Christmas Eve, when she began fidgeting, getting tics in her neck, and starting violently at each tiny sound, Babs would smile indulgently and load her up on eggnog until she passed out on the salon's plush velvet sofa.