I find myself trudging not so merrily along. As I go, I’m joined by others, short wrathful others, dwarves it would seem, scores of Dopeys, Grumpys, Docs, Bashfuls, Sneezys, Sleepys, and not-so-jolly Happys and we march towards the distant hill. Soon there are thousands of septets whistling marmot-like. The Sullen are soon joined by the Wrathful – Sex Dwarves, Death Dwarves and Talk Dwarves. We pass a series of statues, Red Riding Hood, Cinderella, and Rapunzel, clutching themselves and moaning obscenely, dwarf erections dwindling as we reach a glowering Snow White surrounded by legions of flying monkey soldiers.
The dwarf horde recoils and is at the verge of disintegrating into a swarm of starling panic when Snow White rips the top of her dress and screams, “Listen up, you little shitheads!” The dwarves form into troops of like-minded others, the whistle turns to a chant, “Yo ho yo ho ho, ” and I, transformed now to Groucho, chomp my cigar, then become the cigar, behind me a rump-fed Groucho, struggling for snappy comebacks. The great white queen approaches, brushing me with her rosebud tipped snow-white breasts.
“If time flies like an arrow, ” she riddles, “then what do f ruit flies like?” taunting me to produce a comeback, meanwhile twisting back and forth, the tatters of her bodice trailing, rubbing me now with one breast and then the other, the whip-like effect worsening as they transform into motley grey sacs, their pencil long nipples cutting into me.
As “A banana?” dies weakly on my lips, she screams, “Build me a fucking village!” and shimmies away, one last glance of once-again perkiness, bottom beguiling.
“Form up!” echo the monkey soldiers and the dwarf masses reorganize. Even the Sex and Death and Talk dwarves disentangle and fall into line. Some are desultorily humming, but no singing or chanting now. Ahead are the foothills and we begin to climb as evening approaches. Once on top of the hill, the dwarves lay down their tools and organize. Soon they are digging, banging and painting. It’s dark now. An eerie keening breaks the monotony. The dwarves nervously pause in their efforts and soon the monkey soldiers are amongst them striking and shouting, forcing them back to work. Reluctantly they again begin whistling as best they can and slowly the beginnings of a town take shape.
The work becomes more and more difficult as the ground beneath begins to shift and the keening grows. I recognize my childhood high-pitched scream and suddenly switch in the bat of a monkey soldier eye from Groucho-bitten stogie to my younger self quivering in bed, the village people at work between my toes. I pick up the sheets and look beneath. Seeing me, the dwarfs again recoil in terror and shout around, “Oh present deity!” and then, truly all-powerful now, I shake my foot and off the dwarves fly, as do I, past the enraged white queen thrusting at me Brenda-like bleached parts, above to my Voelot demon deity as he lounges naked, reaching a claw for me to touch, and then I fall, landing in Hell’s anteroom now transformed into a nightmare Christmas scene where I am confronted by my demon beaver figure with St. Nick now added to its visage, and where I find myself…
Buried within a blizzard of wrapping paper into which I wade, surrounded by feral children ripping open box after box, throwing the wrappings and paper into a growing pile. Within sit the also damned; the only-wanting-to-be-loved but instead unwanted Christmas presents – homeless Lego people doomed to beg on Hell’s street corners. Unwatched aquariums, inverted fish scum-floating, misused chemistry sets, their little bottles empty, sweaters, coffee mugs with Corey’s face: “Have you seen this child?”, and at the front is my now gnomish Voelot as Saint Nick encouraging us. I join and am soon lost in the blizzard of flying paper, but blindly I wade, finally passing through a door, the monster guide’s multi-faceted head now on a cartoon dog’s body licking itself, and then me furiously as I pass through my next door, and then a new iteration and I have acquired the black uniform and double SS strike on my shoulders.