Sunday, January 08, 2006
The story of Chanukah, Red Sox style, Parts VII and VIII, THE ENDING, all horribly delayed due to New Years and the fact that I was on break and my friends want to, like, hang out? And do stuff? Terribly strange. I'm sure they'll get over it by the time spring training rolls around. And then there was back to school an' all that. But anyways, I'm here now, and here you go.
Part VII: an Unexpected Sight
The Fenway lights burned into the night, lighting up the land, and many a wounded Steinbrennochan soldier did cringe away in terror, for they were used to the dank clammy lights of their own foul temple (which they called Yankee Stadium) and the blacklights that their general, ARodicus, would deploy on the field of battle in an attempt to view the underclothing of the enemy, and the pure light of the Red Sox temple was therefore painful to their watery eyes.
The next day dawned, and still the people were scrubbing clean the walls of the temple. The Soxxabees came forth from their slumber and approached the temple to see how it fared, and their eyes did widen at the sight of the temple lights, for they were still lit!
“¡No lo creo!” cried Ortiz.
“Impossible, there’s no way that generator should still be working,” Wakefield muttered, biting his perfectly manicured fingernails in consternation.
“Cool beans,” Youkilis said, distracted by the bright shiny lights.
Varitek just smiled. Several female members of the Red Sox people nearby fainted dead away.
It did defy all reason, but the lights were no illusion, and after marveling for a moment the Soxxabees entered into Fenway and wound through its many passages until they reached the generator room, thinking that perhaps one of the Red Sox people with a hidden technological skill had snuck in and fixed it.
But the generator was as damaged as before, and should have been lying dormant, for there was no way that any of them could see how it should still be generating power. Yet it was, and the Soxxabees were struck with amazement.
Still the people toiled to cleanse the temple, though the night, and the next day the Soxxabees came back, and lo! The lights remained on! By now word of the broken generator had traveled among the people, and many came to gaze upon the banks of still-bright bulbs, and they were filled with wonder.
Part VIII: the Miracle
Gabbathius came up from the spring training facility, leaning on a crutch, and he saw that the city had been won and was being rebuilt, and he was glad. The Soxxabees came to meet him and he greeted them warmly, hugging Ortiz and Wakefield and Varitek, and doing a complicated handshake with Youkilis that ended with them both yelling, “Challah back! Whoop whoop!” at one another.
Leaning on Varitek, Gabbathius made his way to the temple, and the people smiled to see him as he passed, for it was good to know that their wise leader was still with them, even though he was hurt and had not been able to do battle. When he saw Fenway, Gabbathius was most pleased, for it was a place that meant much to him and his people, and to see it reclaimed and scrubbed of pinstripes and put to proper use was a sight to gladden even the most hardened heart.
The Soxxabees then pointed to the lights, shining still, and told Gabbathius of the electricity, which was out, and how they had come upon a generator, vandalized and broken, able to generate power for only one day, yet here it was, still lighting the temple, and the New Hampshireites were coming with the tools to fix the generator and have it running as new, but they were still many days away, for they were a slow-driving people, at least compared to the core of the Red Sox people, who lived in the section of MLBea known as Boston, a place of much traffic and irate drivers.
“It is a miracle,” Gabbathius declared, looking at the lights, “not entirely unlike my getting out of the far eastern lands and coming right back here.”
The word ‘miracle’ was shouted by the people who stood near him as he surveyed the temple, and soon all of the Red Sox people were speaking of the miracle at Fenway, and the lights that should not be on, yet were.
Eight days after the temple was reclaimed and the generator was first turned on, the New Hampshireites arrived with aid and supplies, and the electricity was restored throughout the land. All through that time, though, the Fenway lights had remained lit, against all reason, and the defeat of Steinbrennochus and his legions was a fine tale of victory, but it was this miracle after which captured the imagination of the people.
And so it is that for 8 nights of every year the Red Sox people light candles, one more each night, to symbolize those 8 nights when the lights stayed on even though there was only power enough for one day.
And by lighting the lights the people can remember this miracle, and also the reclaiming of their land and their sacred places, and the defeat of a cruel dictator, and the refusal of many to hide their religion or to be subsumed by the ways of others.
And always they remember the brave Soxxabees, who led the people to victory in battle when they had not the numbers or the resources many thought necessary, and also they remember Gabbathius, who refused to bend knee to the soldiers of Steinbrennochus, and who would not worship false icons even when the penalty seemed great.
And that, ladies and gents, is the story of Chanukah, Red Sox style. (and finished quite late, which is pure BCRS style)
12:01 AM
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