At the Frolic Room. Christmas 2022
Patrick and Timothy are at the Frolic Room on Hollywood Boulevard in Los Angeles on Christmas Eve. It’s a cold night. The wind is blowing unpleasant temperatures at the homeless drug addicts in their tents as they light a propane stove or two listening to an old song on their smart phones.
Or maybe not.
Maybe it is just Patrick and Timothy, who are wearing their powder blue tuxedoes in honor of the special evening as they sit at the bar in the Frolic Room.
Eddie the bartender is filling their glasses.
Eddie: Drinks are on the house tonight boys. Just promise me you won’t play “Stairway to Heaven” on the juke box.
Patrick and Timothy look at each other and smile.
Patrick: No worries there. Can’t remember how to spell it.
Timothy: Wasn’t there an “A” missing from the name of the band?
Eddie laughs and walks away. The bar is almost empty. There’s an odd couple of Gothics in the back booth all dressed up like ghouls.
Timothy looks at them and says, “I suppose that’s one way to celebrate Christmas.”
Patrick: Good as any.
They sip their drinks and look at the Christmas lights strung up behind the bar. Santa is selling Coca-Cola and “White Christmas” is on the television.
Patrick: You remember how we started out in this game?
Timothy: Sure. A couple of tough guys from nowhere. Nobodies.
Patrick: We were just kids. No one suspected us.
Timothy: Yeah. We went right in and did the job.
Patrick: The blood on the clothes could be a problem.
Timothy: Hey. We were kids. Kids bleed all the time.
Patrick: Well, my mom got kinda suspicious.
Timothy: So did mine. That’s why we started throwing away the clothes and buying new.
Patrick: Yeah, when we finally starting getting paid enough to.
Timothy: Fun times.
Patrick: The priest had it coming.
Timothy: And going.
Eddie walks up and fills their drinks again.
Eddie: You boys going to have a good Christmas?
Patrick: Sure. How about you, Eddie?
Eddie: I’m going over to Mom’s. She always puts on the big spread with the turkey, gravy, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole with those fried onions on top and mushroom soup. You know. Cranberry sauce and pumpkin and apple pies for dessert.
Timothy: Your mom is a saint.
Patrick: Hope the relatives don’t get restless.
Eddie: Oh, they know not to mess with me and my mom.
Eddie walks away. The wind howls outside and a few snowflakes are seen blowing down Hollywood Boulevard under the Frolic Room neon sign.
Timothy: I was thinking we should go to the beach tomorrow.
Patrick: The beach? Sand and Santa on Christmas Day?
Timothy: Why not?
Patrick: Sure. I’ll bring a cooler.
Timothy: I’ll bring some snacks.