New Feature: The Whitebread Letterhead!

So, I’m back!  More or less.  Just don’t expect sparkling wit and perceptive social commentary every day.  I’m still working full time, helping the loverly and talented Mrs. Whitebread raise our three chillins, and trying to write stuff that pays (as opposed to blog entries).  Basically, you’re my bottom priority.  There.  I said it, and I stand by it.  Sorry for any hurt feelings.  I’ll just tell you what dear old dad used to tell me when I whined: “Suck it up, Pedro!  Life’s tough!”  No idea why he called me “Pedro.”

Today’s entry is a copy of The Whitebread Letterhead, the official newsletter of my alter ego, The Amazing Whitebread.  I hope you like it, because they’re much easier to write than a “real” entry and I plan on posting them fairly frequently.

Best wishes and love to my #4 priority: you.  xoxoxo

Advertisements

It’s the Most Blood-Curdling Time of the Year…

     So, I just read about this guy in prison who sued to be able to celebrate Festivus.  For the uninitiated, Festivus is a holiday made up by George’s dad on Seinfeld several years ago.  It’s celebrated by putting up a big metal pole instead of tree and participating in “feats of strength” after dinner.  

God bless you, Jerry Stiller.

       What with Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanza, and now Festivus, it seems like we’re being overrun by holidays this time of year.  So like a good American, I decided I want to cash in on this crap as well.  I want to create my own holiday to compete with Christmas.  However, to really stand out, I’ve got to think of a new angle.  Something to set my holiday apart from the others.  I had to think about it for a long while before it hit me: if Christmas is the “most wonderful time of the year,” maybe I should go in the exact opposite direction and make my holiday the scariest, most frightening, most disturbing day of the year.  Something truly horrifying, that both children and adults can fear together.

     Some people will say, “But we already have a frightening holiday: Halloween.”  Bah.  Halloween’s the most fun day of the year.  You get to dress up, eat candy, stay up past your bed time, and watch monster movies.  You can’t beat that.  Unless you’re an adult on Halloween, in which case you get to go to parties full of drunk skanks dressed like whores.  So really, the only thing to be afraid of on Halloween is syphilis.  The holiday I’m talking about needs to be truly bone-chilling.  And so, ladies and gentlemen, I offer you: Bloodterror Day.

Mike’s New Holiday

Name: Bloodterror Day 

Date:  December 23rd

Character: Instead of a jolly old elf, Bloodterror day will be represented by a child-eating half succubus, half chupacabra, senior IRS agent named Deathfang Skinripper. 

 
 

More or less like this, but with boobs.

On the night of Bloodterror Eve, Bloodfang flies around the entire planet on her leathery, razor-tipped wings and sneaks into the houses of all children, testing their bedroom doors to see if she can get in.  Sometimes, she tries to sneak in by taking the form of a beloved teddy bear or favorite blankie, so those should be burned just before bedtime.  On her way out of the house, Deathfang checks all of mommy and daddy’s filing cabinets, looking for past tax returns to audit. 

 
 

"You're in violation of Section XII, subsetion iv, paragraph (d), United States Tax Code. Now cry for me, meatsack."

Plants:  Replacing Christmas trees, mistletoe, and wreaths will be Tacca chantrieri, also known as the Bat Plant or the Devil Flower.

 

 
 

I’m literally terrified right now. Of a flower.

    

These should be placed strategically throughout the house so as to surprise anyone getting up in the middle of Bloodterror Eve night to use the restroom.

Décor: Foregoing tinsel, manger scenes, colorful glass balls, etc., the household celebrating Bloodterror Day should be liberally and haphazardly strewn with animal pelts, bat plants, pentagrams made from the femurs of nuns and dearly loved family pets. 

 
 

"Happy Bloodterror Day!"

Kinda like I imagine Rob Zombie’s house is all the time. 

 
 

"Fl...Fluffy?"

 

Food: In lieu of baked ham, candied yams, and pumpkin pie, Bloodterror Ever dinner is bacon babies, human body part bread, and Tab.

Pictured: The kitchen of Hell’s Luby’s.

 

Real bread. Not joking.

 

Can we go back to the meat babies and decapitation bread, please? I’m starting to get queasy.

Bloodterror Eve

     The day starts with a trip to the pet store, where the family purchases the cutest, sweetest-looking chinchilla it can find. 

 
 

"This isn't going to end well, is it?"

     On the ride home, the youngest child gets to name the new pet.  In our example, we’ve decided to call it “Youthful Innocence.”  Back home, the children spend an hour with their Youthful Innocence before skinning it alive, drowning it in a pot of heavily salted water, and draining its blood  A baby doll is then dressed in the clothes of the youngest child, dipped in blood of the chinchilla, and hanged from a tree or the eaves of the house in an effort to appease Deathfang Skinripper.   

 

 
 

"You never play with me any more, Cindy."

That evening, a dinner of bacon babies, decapitation bread, and Tab is eaten in silence.   Afterwards, the children are locked in their rooms for the duration of the evening.  In case the locks and the blood-soaked diversion hanging outside doesn’t work to fend off Deathfang Skinripper, daddy gets the biggest knife from the kitchen, dresses up as a clown (Deathfang hates clowns), and spends the night periodically sneaking into the children’s rooms through the window in an effort to catch Deathfang in the act of stealing their souls. 

 
 

"Don't worry, sweetie. Daddy's here."

Bloodterror Day

     Provided the children have survived the night and mommy and daddy haven’t been sent to jail on tax evasion charges, everyone comes downstairs at the crack of dawn, gathers around the biggest Devil Flower, and sings the official Bloodterror Day carol (sung to the tune of “Jingle Bells):

Dashing through the snow

Get the *$#% out of my way

Through the fields we go

Shrieking all the way.

Deathfang’s talons gleam

Ripping at my skin,

How horrible to run and scream

Through piles of dying men.

Ooooh, Blood-terror, Blood-terror, it’s Bloodterror Daaaay,

Oh how ter-ri-ble to die in such a gruesome way.

     This is followed by the first of two central Bloodterror Day activities: “The Desecration of Memories.”  Father shows a slideshow of happy, treasured memories, and each family member tells the others that they were only acting and never really enjoyed spending time with them. 

 

"I was totally faking it, dad. Or as I'm going to refer to you from now on: Steve."

Finally, the family caps the celebration with “Previews of Death.”  Everyone sits in a circle and, starting with the youngest, tells each family member in turn how they think they will/should die.  Afterwards, everyone is given a cup of lukewarm water and a slice of stale bread and sent to their room for the rest of the day. 

 

"I'm starting to miss meat baby again."

     

So, I’m really hoping Bloodterror Day will catch on in a big way.  Sure, it’ll start with the Satanists and serial killers, but don’t all positive changes in society start with the Satanists and serial killers?  Huh?  Huh?

REMINDER: Get the first 1 1/2 chapters of my new humorous nonfiction book I, Superhero!! FREE when you write me at whitebread@theamazingwhitebread.com and ask for it!