A very covid christmas Que vintage Christmas music. We are in the heart of
London. A sprinkle of snow lightly covers the streets. Twinkle lights adorn the
windows, fireplaces are set ablaze. We are about to embark on a most
festive adventure. The year is dodgy, Wika, piece off me stup blood
a knob. The year is covid. We narrow in on a young girl,
or what we are contractually obligated to revert to as a young girl,
for she is really thirty three. You see the age where one can begin
to feel the dying off of the ovaries, and hey, well, and
yet they still maintain a youthful brilliance that occasionally has the mistaken for a schoolgirl
much better in the dark by drunk. All right, can we just continue
as you wish? We narrow in on Emily, a spry, youngish thing
perched in the picture window of a cozy flat, finding herself alone and far
from home this Christmas Eve night. Sigh, she sighs, there's not even
anyone to watch outside. She grabs her mug of hot cocoa curiously strong from
the quote pinchy pinch of vodka She plunged into its depths and moves to turn
on the TV, an ancient relic left behind from a previous tenant, a
man she likes to think, with a grandfatherly way about him, who probably
had his favorite chair, a few good books, and no need from modern
technology. Or why else keep this heaping pile of garbage. Come on,
you, old dinosaur, She coaxes it with a few light slams. There
we go. The news channel begins to come into focus, grainy and in
black and white. The local news anchor is her with the UK on lockdown,
thousands of people are unable to travel across borders for the holidays. What's
worse, the strict stay at home order prohibits celebrations outside of the household.
This is grim news for residents of London who live alone tonight. So much
for my dreamier abroad, especially for single American girls who flocked here to see
their love actually fantasies realized. Yes, especially for Emily. What just kidding?
She turns off the screen with a flourish, but the static from the
old machine rustles and pops, sending a shock up her arm and dropping her
to the floor. For a moment nothing more, nothing and nothing Still,
well, it seems we've reached a premature and to our little story bollocks.
Never mind, We're okay. That can hurt. She rubs her head where
it smacked against the floorboards. I bet it did, Missy. You went
down faster than a hookah with a bad habit. She whips around a shard
of broken mug poised in one hand, her only pathetic defense. Who the
heck are you? I'm William Jody Goody tips his hat. How did you
get in here? Gasp? She gasps. You could be infected. You
could have the virus, and and you're exposing me. And if I get
sick, I have no one here to care for me. I mean not
really. Maybe a neighbor or two would drop off soup. But if I
die, literally no one will know. And I will rotten this flat all
by myself until the rats come for my innards. She pulls a pillowcase over
her head. They're no worm. Take where your warm and leave. It'll
take me hours to sanitize the air. She rather awkwardly feels her way to
the window and lifts it open. Of what do you speak? What what
do you mean? Of? What? Do I speak the coronavi iris There
is silence. Emily peeks out from under the safe haven of her pillow protector
Corona COVID nineteen the dirty RONA. Where have you been? Man? I'm
not entirely sure, but in the ethers I presume. Okay, I'm not
sure what province that is? But okay, what are your current case numbers?
Like? I don't follow? I'm afraid. Well, I'm afraid too,
bucko. You're really throwing me for a loop here. So I gather
you did not extend an invitation to get drunk with me on Christmas Eve.
No, it might be sad, but I'm not desperate. She was desperate,
not that desperate. Curious. If you didn't conjure me, then I
wonder how it is that I came to be here this evening. What do
you mean conjure? Well, I assumed that was how I came back.
I lived here for many years. You see, Oh, and you moved
I can understand that the shower pressure doesn't exactly spark joy moved on. I
died here in my sleep in nineteen eighty seven. Say what. Moments later,
William and Emily are seated at opposite ends of the couch, Emily keeping
close watch on William. Out of the corner of her eye, she looks
as if she's seen a ghost. Oh, look at me, I made
it funny. So why you're telling me, she reaches for the right words,
is that you are super dead and missus like dead. I'm like talking
to a dead person, ever so tactful? Correct? Does this make me
certifiably insane? I should think we may both belong in the looney bin.
He removes his spectacles and cleans the lenses with the end of his sweater.
Observing this, Emily grows agitated by his calm. Yet, what is with
you, Brits? I mean, the world could be ending outside and you'd
still put on a pot of tea and read the morning paper. There is
no stopping the inevitable idea. At my age, you learn that to fight
with what is is a terrible worriest of spirit. To savor the small joys
of life, that is, to truly live. Well, Thank you,
Oprah. I sure hope this great insight comes with a year supply of striped
pajama sets. Smart girl, I do wish I understood more of your blabbering.
This is ridiculous. I obviously just hit my head so hard that now
I'm hallucinating and they probably need medical attention. Yes, yes, that's it,
She grows, excited at the prospect of a cranial concussion. For at
least it would explain the old geezer staring at her from across the sofa bed.
I'll just call nine nine nine for an ambulance. I probably have brain
bleeding. A bit too much enthusiasm there, Okay. We hear three beeps
and then an out of service sound. We're sorry, your number could not
be completed as dialed. Please hang up and do not call again. That's
weird. Maybe the storm took down the power lines to the call center.
I'll just try my mom. William watches patiently. We hear two beeps,
then a ring yea, than a dial tone. I'm sorry. I thought
I told you not to call again. What this number is no longer in
service? Goodbye? You've got to be kidding. I was afraid of this.
What you know what's going on? I had a hunch. It seems
we have transcended the physical world and found ourselves in a most perplexing plot.
English please, we have landed in the in between. Emily is now lying
on the floor, staring at the ceiling in stoic surrender. William sits over
her in a stuffed chair by the fire, engrossed in a battle with an
old candy cane, which she struggles to unwrap. It's over, it's over,
it's over. Well, I won't give up that easy. I haven't
had sugarn thirty three years. He doubles down on his efforts to uncover the
sweet nectar of his Christmas candy. My life, not your impending, insolent
surge, William, Gosh, dang it, of all the people I could
be stuck with for eternity. You can't even hear half of what I say?
Oh I hear enough, comes and goes thankfully great. Well, I'll
be short. She stopped short by the incessant crinkling of William's unruly candy paper.
I said, I'll be short, William, Do you mind what's that?
Now? Would you give me? She snags the candy cane from his
grasp, freeing it from its plastic encasing in one swift movement. Extraordinary.
You'd think thirty three years would be long enough to kill sugar cravings. Wait,
she ponders, three, that's my age. Yes, the narrator said
that earlier. Oh he's the worst, rather nosy bloke. I beg your
pardon, denied, sir William. Do you think it's odd that I was
born the year you passed away, and that we both lived in the same
flat, and now we're stuck in that flat together in this upside down the
in between, dear, not the upside down. This isn't stranger things you
get netflix in the great Beyond. If we were well behaved on Earth,
No kidding, I better clean up my act. While it's a bit odd,
I suppose it would only be a real significance such events were to occur,
say, on the same day in nineteen eighty seven, the likelihood of
which is prepostuous. Emily fixes her gaze on William. The narrator continues,
big grudgingly. Was it December twenty fourth? Oh, dear, it appears
we have a problem, Sir Houston. That's not but you know what,
never mind, And so our friends have pieced together some vital information. But
will it be enough to find their way out from under outwards from inside of
them? The in betwixt Huh, good god Man, Stay tuned for more
after this commercial break. What's that? It appears we haven't got any sponsors
at this time. On we go moments later, our unlikely pair is still
stupefied. I did their recent findings. The one is absorbing the news better
than the other. I suppose a happy birthday is in order. What festivities
have been planned? None, William. She wraps herself in a fuzzy blanket
and plops herself on the couch in defeat. I'm not allowed to see people
because of this stupid virus. My family wanted to FaceTime, but I just
told them might be asleep. Why is that because they'll just make me feel
guilty about moving away? Will they? Or will seeing them just make you
miss them? Emily furrows her brow, seemingly deep in thought, though one
can never be sure with our heroine, she could just as well be recalling
an online shoe sale. You know, this is all starting to seem very
a Christmas Carol adjacent. That just doesn't make any sense. She rises and
begins to pace back and forth. Why is that exactly? Because between the
two of us, I don't think I'm the obvious choice for ebony are scrooge
William I barely have any fine lines, for God's sake, any freaking love
Christmas? Oh my, a millennial. He braces himself on the arms of
the old recliner. Excuse me, I've heard rumblings of you, but didn't
recognize the dragon until it was spewing hot fire into my face. Um what
he rises It takes a moment. I passed before your generation came to fruition,
but have feared the story's newest spirits were laid around proverbial campfire, tales
of self obsession, of greed, and such confusing things on t shirts.
Says you David. Oh my god, I love David. He's my favorite.
Will you not hear me? Will you not listen? A moment of
an ease passes. Yes, I'm all ears, but you just like stopped
talking. I lost my train of thought one moment. Tales of self obsessions
of greed. Oh yes, you have forgotten that the meaning of life reaches
far beyond ourselves. The riches and glory lie not in the putting off of
frown lines, which are quite inevitable, by the way, but in the
lives you touch, in the hearts you hold in the people you love.
That was amazing, Thank you. I have been practicing it for years in
preparation for this exact opportunity. Well it seemed spot on. I think you
nailed it, did I? Goodness? Thank you? I was so nervous.
Totally consider me blown away? Oh jolly good. Pleased with himself,
the old man straightens his little cap atop his head. So then you understand,
understand what why I am here? Of course? Oh no, no,
I've lost the plot. I'm afraid Buka mifft. He takes a moment
to collect himself before looking back to the wide eyed girl standing before him.
She appears genuinely perplexed. I'm here to teach you how to live. How
exactly are you going to do that? Well, I suppose we start by
taking a step outside. Oh they're slushy stuff out there. That's the best
part about the spirit world, he smiles, suspending the moment for dramatic effect.
Nothing can get on your shoes. He holds out his hand. Emily
smiles. She lets her blanket fall to the ground. She reaches back to
him and grows confused as her hand repeatedly passes through his oh, yes,
and you don't exist, so you can't actually touch anyone, which seems perfect
for this pandemic you speak of. Yes, on we go. The front
door to the flat bursts open. A cascade of moonlight and snowflakes and sounds
of a church choir billow into the entryway as our friends take their first steps
into the unknown. Sorry, it seems the use of that phrase in conjunction
with imaginary snow breeches Frozen two's intellectual property fascists. As our friends take their
first steps into the into the unknown. Sorry, there's no other way to
say that.