{"id":482,"date":"2014-12-22T05:55:23","date_gmt":"2014-12-22T05:55:23","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2014\/calendar\/?p=482"},"modified":"2014-12-22T05:55:23","modified_gmt":"2014-12-22T05:55:23","slug":"december-22nd-yule-be-sorry-by-glow-and-kath-moonshine","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2014\/calendar\/?p=482","title":{"rendered":"December 22nd- Yule Be Sorry by Glow and Kath Moonshine"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"YuleBeSorryTitle2\"<\/a><\/p>\n

Hutch has been cooling his jets on the sidewalk in front of his building thirty minutes, sitting on top of an old Admiral television set that someone put out with the trash, displaced\u2014no doubt\u2014by the arrival of this season\u2019s latest model, a bit of deduction aided by the presence of an empty General Electric box that proudly proclaims This is a GE Performance Television!<\/em> It\u2019s Christmas Eve and Starsky is a half an hour late picking up Hutch for dinner at the Dobey house.<\/p>\n

\u201cSomeone who spends as much money on watches as you should be able to tell time better,\u201d Hutch complains as he gets into the car.<\/p>\n

\u201cRelax, Scrooge.\u201d Starsky shifts the car into gear and peels out. \u201cI was talking to my mother. You know it\u2019s three hours later there. By the time I get home, she\u2019ll be in bed.\u201d<\/p>\n

Even though they are Jewish, Starsky\u2019s family always manages to celebrate Christmas in their own way, and he knows they are missing each other tonight. \u201cHow is she?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe didn\u2019t get to talk too much. Ma didn\u2019t want to miss the log. Can you believe that? My own mother cut me off to go watch The Yule Log<\/em>.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe Yule Log<\/em>. On the television. Oh, that\u2019s right. Bay City Christmas. Sixty-five degrees, not a snowball in sight, palm trees instead of evergreens, and no Yule Log.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSo, what is this? A TV show? A Christmas special? About a log?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot a show. I mean, it isn\u2019t Log the Red-Nosed Reindeer<\/em>. But it is kind of a Christmas special. There\u2019s a real fireplace, you know? The old-fashioned kind\u2014like where you\u2019d hang your stockings for Santa. And the wood is burning and crackling.\u201d A smile curls the corner Starsky\u2019s lip. \u201cIt\u2019s like having a fireplace in your living room when the log is burning on the television.\u201d<\/p>\n

Sometimes Hutch just doesn\u2019t know how to process some of the stuff that flows from his partner\u2019s lips, and this is one of those times. \u201cYou mean to tell me that in New York, people tune in to stare at a fake fireplace\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWho said it was fake? It\u2019s a real fireplace! Just not really in your living room. And they play nice Christmas music.\u201d<\/p>\n

The more Starsky explains, the less Hutch understands. \u201cWho does?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWho does what?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPlay the Christmas music!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI don\u2019t know. The log people.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe log people?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe ones who make the show.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou mean whatever corporation had the brilliant idea to film a fireplace and get people to sit in front of their television sets to stare at it? And I thought television was mindless drivel before.\u201d Hutch makes a dismissive gesture in the direction of the dashboard, as if dispelling a phantom television set.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou don\u2019t get it, Hutch. It\u2019s a tradition. You put the log on. You hear the music. And then you open presents in front of the fireplace.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThe televised fireplace.\u201d<\/p>\n

Starsky sighs. \u201cIf you look at it just right, you can forget, for a minute, it\u2019s the television. Seems kind of real . . . you know?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hutch is about to launch into a discourse about how ridiculous the whole concept of staring at a fake log burning on television for hours was when he notices the smile on Starsky\u2019s face has been replaced by hang-dog expression. His partner always gets a little weird around Christmas time, the mood somewhere between childlike exuberance and downhearted nostalgia, as if he had gotten his hopes up and had them dashed all in the same night. Hutch would have preferred to pretend the whole commercialized, over-hyped excuse for a holiday didn\u2019t exist, but that was never an option around Starsky. Still, he hopes that having a big dinner with all the trimmings and watching the kids open presents at the captain\u2019s house is going to be enough candy-cane colored sentiment for one night, but now Starsky is flat out pouting\u2014and over what? A fake log? Of course, the fake log only symbolizes all the things that are wrong with a Bay City Christmas, a list of complaints that seems to get longer each year for Starsky, one which Hutch has listened to the entire month of December.<\/p>\n

To his credit, Starsky bucks up and plays the jolly elf at the Dobeys\u2019, complete with goofy red hat trimmed in white fur and a dangling pom-pom. He ate, drank, and was merry, and there wasn\u2019t any way to tell his Christmas Eve was anything but perfect.<\/p>\n

Unless you were his partner and read him like a book.<\/p>\n

And right now, his partner is a very sad book.<\/p>\n

I\u2019ve got to do something to fix this<\/em>, Hutch thinks. But what . . . ?<\/em><\/p>\n

\"ChristmasLights\"<\/a><\/p>\n

The drive back to Venice Place is mostly quiet, only the strains of the local rock station endlessly playing a recorded loop of Jingle Bell Rock<\/em> filling the space between them. Starsky turns the last corner and announces, \u201cWell, here\u2019s our Christmas miracle on Hutchinson Street,\u201d and smoothly pulls into the sole empty parking spot on the entire block, right in front of Hutch\u2019s building.<\/p>\n

Hutch is fumbling for the bag at his feet that holds his gifts from the Dobeys\u2014a bottle of wine and a dozen homemade sugar cookies\u2014when he notices that Starsky hasn\u2019t turned off the Torino. \u201cKill the ignition, Starsk. What are you waiting for, Christmas?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m tired,\u201d Starsky mumbles, his eyes taking in the bright lights of the Baptist church\u2019s nativity across the street. \u201cGonna head back to my place. Call it an early night.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t you want to come up? Have a nightcap? Play a few hands of cards?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNah. M\u2019tired.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, you have to come up long enough to get your Christmas gift,\u201d Hutch says desperately, no closer to figuring out how to cheer Starsky up.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou got me a present?\u201d If it weren\u2019t for the fact that he really was lying, Hutch would resent his partner\u2019s suspicious tone.<\/p>\n

\u201cSure.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cA real<\/em> present? Not a piece of paper that says I saved a dodo-bird or got a star named for me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNope. And dodos are extinct.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWhatever. Not another museum membership?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, you liked the George C. Page Museum!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019da liked it better if they had called it the La Brea Tar Pits Museum, cause then I woulda wanted to go instead of being dragged there by you on the last day of my membership.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPoint,\u201d Hutch says agreeably. \u201cAnd you did fill out the comment card, so there\u2019s still hope they can get it right for future generations.\u201d Hutch finds himself scrutinized by a pair of the brightest blues eyes he\u2019s ever seen, eyes that routinely inspire hardened criminals to sing like birds, and old ladies to bake him cakes and tamales.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou really want me to come up?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, Gordo. I really want you to come up.\u201d<\/p>\n

For a moment, Hutch thinks that his partner is going to blow him off, but he has his answer when, with a flick of his wrist, Starsky pulls the keys from the ignition.<\/p>\n

\u201cI can\u2019t wait to see what you got me,\u201d Starsky says.<\/p>\n

Yeah . . . me too<\/em>.<\/p>\n

Hutch believes he should be forgiven for what happens next, because\u2014admittedly\u2014he\u2019d been deep in his head for a good cause, thinking of every possible thing in his apartment that could be repurposed into a gift for his man-child buddy. It\u2019s only the loud crash-tinkle<\/em> that pulls him from his thoughts.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhat the hell are you doing to my car!\u201d<\/p>\n

He looks down just as Starsky races around the front fender, just in time for Hutch to step out of the car and onto the carpet of broken glass\u2014glass which came from the old TV screen he\u2019s just shattered with the Torino\u2019s door.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou better not have messed with my paint job,\u201d Starsky mutters, hunkering down, careful of the glass, to examine the Torino\u2019s paint job. \u201cHuh. You\u2019re lucky. Don\u2019t see any scratches.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cOur second Christmas miracle,\u201d Hutch says, a moment before he realizes that he really has experienced a miracle\u2014of inspiration.<\/p>\n

\"ChristmasLights\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\u201cThis has got to be the weirdest Christmas present ever,\u201d Starsky announces. His arms are extended protectively in front of his chest, making him look rather like a curly-haired Frankenstein\u2019s monster.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhy do you say that,\u201d Hutch asks, backing carefully up the stairs, making sure to spot his partner despite his own excruciating pain. Hutch hates to admit it, but thoughts of Frankenstein <\/em>have put him in mind of who he most resembles and\u2014right now\u2014he looks a lot like Quasimodo. And why is that<\/em>, questions Hutch\u2019s inner smartass, the part of him that despises commercial Christmas with every fiber of his being. It sure wasn\u2019t from shopping on Rodeo Drive! <\/em>Hutch snaps back internally.<\/p>\n

\u201cFunny thing you ask. First, my partner takes me into his apartment, then he pushes me down on the couch, and tells me to tie a bandanna around my eyes so I can\u2019t see nothing. Then said partner proceeds to bang up and down the stairs, grunting like a pig the whole time, as if he\u2019s carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

Not the world. Just a fucking heavy TV that blew out my back!<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cThen there\u2019s more rattling around, and doors slamming, and then it sounds like Quick Draw McGraw\u2019s El Kabong<\/em> lands in the apartment\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

That would be me dropping my guitar halfway down the rooftop steps when my back spasmed.<\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cAnd now said partner is leading me,\u201d Starsky pauses for a moment to savor the warm breeze wafting across Venice Place\u2019s rooftop, \u201cup onto his roof. Hey, you\u2019re not planning on pushing me off, are you?\u201d The last is followed by a laugh, but it\u2019s not a hearty one.<\/p>\n

How much easier my life would be if only. . . . <\/em><\/p>\n

\u201cNo, Starsk. I just want you to take a few steps to the left and, yeah\u2014right there\u2014is a lawn chair. Now sit down and give me a minute\u2014\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s gonna be New Year\u2019s before I get my Christmas present.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cJust stuff a sock in it!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAll right, all right! I\u2019m sitting.\u201d<\/p>\n

For all of the ability Hutch has to straighten up, his forearms might as well be super-glued to his shins. Nevertheless, he shuffles over to his pi\u00e8ce de r\u00e9sistance<\/em>, and perches on the lawn chair he\u2019s set up for himself. Giving only a small groan, Hutch pulls his guitar into his lap, and settles the strap around his neck.<\/p>\n

Now only one more detail.<\/em><\/p>\n

Hutch picks up a matchbook blazoned with Huggy\u2019s moniker, THE PITS, strikes one, and flicks the tiny, fiery brand into the center of his vodka-soaked masterpiece. A minor whoosh <\/em>signals that it\u2019s time to let Starsky see his present.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou can remove your blindfold, Starsk.\u201d<\/p>\n

The fire of rolled-up newspaper logs starts to catch in the base of the old TV. Smoke boils out of the glassless area that used to be the television screen, and the flames, initially blue-white, quickly changeover to red as the vodka is consumed and the fire begins to eat away at the Bay City Times<\/em>. Hutch drinks in his partner\u2019s craggy, beloved face, illumed by his labor of love, and he begins to sing:<\/p>\n

Feliz Navidad
\nFeliz Navidad
\nFeliz Navidad
\nProspero a\u00f1o y Felicidad.<\/em><\/p>\n

Feliz Navidad
\nFeliz Navidad
\nFeliz Navidad
\nProspero a\u00f1o y Felicidad.<\/em><\/p>\n

I wanna wish you a Merry Christmas!
\nI wanna wish you a Merry Christmas!
\nI wanna wish you a Merry Christmas,
\nFrom the bottom of my heart.<\/p>\n

Starsky lights up from within, and Hutch can almost imagine what the Grinch must have felt when his heart grew three sizes (yes, Starsky makes him watch the damned thing every year).<\/p>\n

\u201cYou made me The Yule Log!<\/em>\u201d<\/p>\n

Hutch can feel his own face split by a wide grin, as he continues to strum his guitar, almost idly running through his repertoire of holiday tunes, a medley of White Christmas<\/em>, Marshmallow World<\/em>, and a funked-out guitar version of Little Drummer Boy<\/em>.<\/p>\n

\u201cThis is the best Christmas gift ever!\u201d And there it is, what Hutch had been hoping to see, that inner three-year-old part of his partner, that little piece of Brooklyn that still believes in flying reindeer and that good boys get toys.<\/p>\n

They sit companionably, watching the fire burn and the TV melt into the metal wastepaper basket that Hutch had placed under it, and Hutch is grateful the wind is to their backs, because he\u2019s sure the fumes coming off the TV are carcinogenic, but Starsky just stares and stares until his eyes begin to water and his face to crumple. Fearing a soapy scene, Hutch switches to a snappier tune\u2014Jingle Bells\u2014<\/em>in an effort to distract Starsky from his melancholy.<\/p>\n

\u201cHey, buddy,\u201d Hutch calls gently when Starsky\u2019s shoulders start to shake, and his chin drops to his chest. \u201cDon\u2019t cry. It\u2019s just a fire in a TV.\u201d<\/p>\n

Starsky looks up, and Hutch can immediately tell that he\u2019s read the scene wrong. \u201cI\u2019m not crying, Hutch. I\u2019m laughing.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNo shit, Sherlock,\u201d Hutch answers, pissed. \u201cWhy?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDo you hear that?\u201d<\/p>\n

Hutch\u2019s fingers fall nerveless from the strings, and he hears what sounds like two black and whites and at least three fire engines, lights and sirens blasting, pulling onto his block.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m gonna guess that the troops are here for a suspected 10-52,\u201d Starsky adds sheepishly. \u201cAnd I figure whoever started this suspected arson incident on Christmas is gonna get a whole stack of citations from the fire marshal, \u2018cause we all know how much the fire department loves the police department, right?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cRiiiight<\/em>,\u201d Hutch growls. \u201cSo what are you finding so funny, Gordo?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cAll these sirens make me feel like I\u2019m back home\u2014a real Brooklyn Christmas!\u201d<\/p>\n

\"ChristmasLights\"<\/a><\/p>\n

\"YuleBeSorryEnd\"<\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Hutch has been cooling his jets on the sidewalk in front of his building thirty minutes, sitting on top of an old Admiral television set that someone put out with the trash, displaced\u2014no doubt\u2014by the arrival of this season\u2019s latest … Continue reading →<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":2,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,4],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-482","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-fic","category-gen"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2014\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/482","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2014\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2014\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2014\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/2"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2014\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=482"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2014\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/482\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":488,"href":"https:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2014\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/482\/revisions\/488"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2014\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=482"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2014\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=482"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/advent.starskyhutchcalendar.net\/2014\/calendar\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=482"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}