Mammoth Christmas Party 1956: From Left to Right (Part 4)

THE SOPHISTICATE

Seven faces.

Well, six and a half faces. Four women -- three men. A couple partially empty bottles of champagne, pearl necklaces, and an empty chair in the foreground.

The trio in the middle is the most corrupt. They get strange looks from people who don't even know them because they put off a sour aroma that the soul can sense. The man in the middle is the brother of the woman to the left. He is also the husband to the woman on the right. He loves them both but he has always loved his sister. He doesn’t care that she is a Satanist or what crimes she commits. His only care is that she is happy. Staring deep into the camera with those pale blue eyes, he touches both of the women he loves. However, you can easily tell which one he is closer to.

Yes, one time he had intercourse with his sister next to his mother's corpse. It's not that he is a disturbed individual. It's just that he really loves his sister and nothing could stop him from seizing the opportunity given him by his disturbed sibling. But she never allowed him to love her that way again. He prayed -- to God, to Satan, to whomever -- that he and his sister would once again be one. His prayers were not answered. After a few months, he moved away and tried to refocus his life.

With the money left from his mother, he bought a horse stable with a dozen thoroughbreds. He bred them, raced them, and made a fine living. There's good money in horse breeding. Before he knew it, he was one of the wealthiest men in town and everyone knew it. In fact, too many people knew. Practically over night he had turned into this sophisticated businessman making honest money. When it seemed as if things were at their peak, something happened. Some of his prized horses that were scheduled to race went missing one morning. Someone had stolen them. He knew. He knew damn well who took those horses. Those well-nurtured beasts were lying dead somewhere in the forest -- full of stab wounds and probably burnt to a crisp. This was bad for business. You fail to deliver a horse for a race, you change the odds. A lot of people bet the ponies and they all knew the man with the best breed in town. All bets were off.

The man needed to quickly think of a way to maintain his wealthy status and win back his reputation. He had decided that hard work and an honest living weren't viable options so he improvised.

With some of the money he had left, he was able to purchase a handful of common whores for nighttime events seven days a week. Late in the evenings, men would come from all around to this man's horse stable. They'd sit in a closed off barn while low lights flickered and rich orchestral music played. In the blips of light, men would spend well-earned money to watch these women engage in unspeakable acts with the man's remaining thoroughbreds. For just a little extra, they could make requests. For a little more, they could have one of the whores next. The man was back on top, pulling in more whip than before. It wasn’t honest but it was good. Life was perfect.

He met a nice girl at the bank one day when he was making one of his large deposits. The stolen horses taught him an important lesson: save money. She was a university girl and she was beautiful. They went out for drinks after her shift. He insisted. The next day they went on a picnic. The day after that, they went riding on some of his horses. They fell in love. She loved his wit. He loved her innocence and morals. Never would he have guessed that a year later he would be married to a Christian girl.

He loved her so much that after the honeymoon, he stopped his business -- sold the stable altogether. They had enough money to enjoy a sophisticated manner of living while she continued working at the bank and he traded stocks.

She is everything to him, especially everything that his sister is not. He tells himself he loves his wife. He looks in the mirror and says that he no longer has any feelings for his sister. The way he sits at the table tells the truth. The way he looks into the camera makes him transparent. After all, there's a reason he's not dressed as sophisticated as he usually is.

Mammoth Christmas Party 1956: From Left to Right (Part 2)

THE SOCIALITE

Seven faces.

Well, six and a half faces. Four women -- three men. A couple partially empty bottles of champagne, pearl necklaces, and an empty chair in the foreground.

The couple on the left is the purest. They are truly in love and produce envy from onlookers because of their natural displays of affection. She looks right into the heart of the camera lens. She always does. Sure, she dresses nice to impress her peers and random passersby, but really, she does it for the photographs.

Her eyes truly are the window to her soul -- so transparent and open. It's those eyes that tell her story: where she's been, whom she's been with, what she's seen. Her eyes weave the tale of how she was born into wealth with everything in abundance. However, all these things she later grew to appreciate, and even love, were mere ways to coat her early years with as much gold and fine jewelry as possible in order to blind the poor girl.

From the minute she came into this world, her father had a strong affection for her. He loved her -- in every sense of the word. Although he was a very busy businessman with a small empire in the palm of his hand, he took the time to be the one there for his daughter. He would insist on changing her, bathing her, and putting her to sleep. But he did not do these things out of love as much as he did them out of desire. Before the girl had even developed a substantial memory, she had already endured things she would want to forget. Her father's hands were tools of disgust that would forever frame her as someone always drawing attention. He loved her red hair and those big, beautiful, deep green eyes. They saw everything he ever did. Sometimes they were glazed over with tears but they could always make out the blurred vision of subtle force joined with a smile.

As she grew older, her father showered her with gifts -- any and everything she wanted. At first, it was simply because he was in love with her. But as he continued this behavior, he realized that it seemed to make his daughter forget whatever unbearable things he would do to her in the night or when his wife was away. The girl never brought up the sexual encounters. She acted as if they had never happened. All she cared about was the attention. She got it at home. She got it at school. She even got it on the street. If she wasn't getting attention, something was wrong and she would run home to Daddy, who was always there to give her what she needed. The girl's mother was unaware of the two's relationship in the beginning. But one night, her building suspicions came to fruition.

It was Christmas Eve and the teenage girl was opening the presents designated for that night. Her father was drinking. He had just lost a dynamic piece of his empire. His wife was in the kitchen baking desserts and preparing for the following day. Wandering over to his daughter, he sat behind her on the ground. She was full of smiles and she revealed expensive gifts. After opening a diamond-encrusted necklace, she hugged her father. He squeezed her tight and kissed her ear. She went to pull away but the scotch-induced strength was overpowering. He kissed, and licked, and groped, and smiled. She stared at the necklace to take her mind off of it. Then the girl's mother entered and screamed. She was holding a knife. She dropped it and stood against the wall as her husband turned to see her. She questioned his actions through tears and he slowly approached. His secret was out. He picked up the knife and stood in front of his wife. The girl sat on the floor, watching it all. Her father told his wife that she would never be able to let his secret out. She promised to keep her mouth closed but this was not enough. He slit her throat and she fell to the ground. He turned around slowly and saw his daughter silently crying. Dropping the knife, he walked upstairs. A few minutes later, a gun blast echoed through the house.

Years went by and the girl came to be nothing less than a local sensation. She used her mass inherited wealth and status to demand attention from everyone around her. When she met her husband, it changed everything. He didn't pay as much attention to her as everyone else. She decided this is what she needed -- someone completely opposite her father. That way, there was a lesser chance of her past and volatile instability coming out. After all, she didn't want someone close to her to die because of overaffection. Everyone who knew her secrets was dead and she yearned for the companionship of someone normal. The veteran she married after knowing him two months was perfect. He had a simple life and an uncomplicated past. She had found someone who wouldn't read the fine print written on her cavernous eyes.

This is why she looks straight into the camera lens. This is why her eyes seem vast and endless. She still wears the pearls, still dresses up, still makes people turn their heads. She loves her husband. His normalcy is the perfect compliment to her disturbing past. She can't risk anyone learning of her secrets. If someone did, she would have to do exactly what she had seen her father do all those years ago.

The Peanut Butter Jelly and the Boxer

Dogs.

They're great.

A few canines have been there for me at select times in my life and an entire host of others have wandered in here and there. Call me a dog lover, dog's best friend, or what have you. However you decide to dice it, I have a natural affection for the furry hunks of meat and they have an instinctual love for me. Could be my scent because I am rather musky,

There's a story I know of a dog -- a dog and a boy. This particular young male loved his family dog. It was a beautiful Boxer with floppy ears and a face that could melt Genghis Khan's cold heart. His majesty required a name of mammoth proportions. Hercules? Zeus? Big Sweet Dog? No. He was destined to be named Samson.

Samson and the boy got along like gambling and debt. Since the boy was too young to attend school, and his family had other things to attend to, he spent most of his time with that beloved dog. They would lie next to each other and talk for hours about sports, news, and other typical conversation topics inlcluding funny places to defecate. Before anyone knew it, Samson and the boy were best friends. They would take turns seeing who could scoot across the carpet the furthest on their anus, pee all over the place when they were excited, eat cats, clean themselves -- you name it. Gambling and debt, I tell you. Gambling and debt.

Of course, that's not to say that their relationship was never tested. I mean, come on. There's an unimaginable amount of problems with relationships between humans. Now imagine an inter-species relationship. Don't mess your pants trying to think about it but get a good mental picture.

One time, the boy was walking his four-legged friend around the block as per usual. However, on the home stretch back to base camp, Samson spotted a feline. Now the boy was smaller in stature than said boxer. So when Samson took off, the boy, who had the leash wrapped multiple times around his small wrist, had no choice but to follow. Bouncing outstretched on the asphalt like a skipping stone, the boy cried out as Samson picked up the pace. He finally gave up and stopped in front of their home. After slowly standing up with tears streaming, the boy solemnly walked the dog to the house. The boy's parents ran outside, for they had heard the cries. Father took the dog while Mother brought the boy inside. After finishing washing up the boy in a hot bath and plucking out bits of asphalt and gravel embedded in the boy's young skin, Father took the boy to the garage. He said that Samson had done something terrible and needed to learn a lesson; needed to be disciplined. The boy did not want to hit his friend or enforce any other kind of punishment because he knew it wasn't Samson's fault. With even more tears than before, the boy reluctantly spanked Samson with the lightest of taps. The boy felt terrible.

A time later, the boy sat in the backyard enjoying the summer's late morning sun and an ideal meal: one peanut butter and jelly sandwich, a serving of potato chips, and a cold glass of apple juice. Pure Heaven. While dawning a content smile and focusing his attention somewhere else, Samson silently approached. The boy was enjoying "the perfect bite" with eyes half closed and pointed in the opposite direction of the fulfilling sandwich. He went to take another bite but found his sandwich gone. What? The boy heard a munching behind him. There stood Samson, swallowing the remains of the peanut butter jelly. Had the boy sat the sandwich on the table? Had the dog been so sly as to snag the sandwich right out of the boy's hand? Either way, the delicious early lunch had perished. The boy was angry because he was a chubby boy and he found great joy in the art of consuming food -- particularly sandwiches. He yelled at Samson, saying dreadful things. But he couldn't control his fat rage. After the verbal abuse, he ventured inside and ordered a replacement entree from Mother. It was bigger, better, and unforgettable. The boy forced the dog to watch him enjoy every last bite. That would show the thief.

The boy felt terrible a few hours later and apologized to Samson, explaining how he had not meant the loud insults and that he would never consciously and maliciously titillate the dog again. Friends again. Best friends.

The dog got older and you can guess what happened. He got creamed by a speeding automobile. Utter macabre. The boy was devastated. He grieved for times, time, and a half a time. What? He reflected on the abundance of good times that the two had experienced. The world they shared, the one that no one else knew, was forever gone. It was a good run but the boy knew that nothing in this world is forever.

Making use of the untimely death, the boy learned a few things. He learned that the ones you love will hurt you. It could be unintentionally, physically, or in some other way. The boy learned that those you love may be responsible for taking things that belong to you: food, money, your heart. But most of all, the relationship with Samson taught the boy that true love means being able to forgive wrongs, apologize, reconcile, and make it work at any cost -- even if it means ditching one's pride and taking the blame. This boy went went on to experience a much fuller life while finding intense satisfaction in his truly meaningful relationships. And he owes it all to Samson -- the dog that was more than a pet and more than a friend.