The Strange, Final Fate of Bing Crosby

Posted: December 29, 2009 in David Bowie, Jeff Holland, Short Fiction, Threat Quality
Tags: , , ,

Ever wonder what happened after Bing Crosby and David Bowie finished their lovely duet on Christmas? Well, Bowie went home, of course. But what happened after that is a tale never before heard…

UNTIL NOW:

(THE SCENE: David Bowie’s living room. As he enters, the phone rings.)

RING
“Allo?”
“Hello, David.”
“…Uh, yeah, hi. This is David Bowie, yeh. ‘oozis, then?”
“Did you enjoy my piano, David?”
“…”
“Did you enjoy playing my piano, and queuing up my orchestra? David? Was that fun for you?”
“Ah, shit. Ahh, God no…Sir Percival?”
“That’s right, David. I thought I asked you not to prowl around my manor anymore. After the last time? With that…thing, that horrid little boney wretch you brought over?”
“Ah, see, Sir Percival, I apologized for Mick before, I thought we was over that.”
“And did that give you the right to break into my house? ON CHRISTMAS EVE?”
“It weren’t like that, mate! The door was open, like.”
“Right. Because Bing Crosby was staying over. He’s a folksy American. An older gent, from a different generation. He’s trusting enough to leave the front door unlocked, because he doesn’t expect coked-up glam rockers to barge in unexpectedly.”
“Yeh, but, like, he didn’t even introduce himself, I thought he was like the butler or something.”
“Exactly how many butlers do you know who sing impromptu duets?”
“Well…a pretty good butler, I suppose?”
“This is your last warning, Mr. Bowie. You stay away from my property. And to make sure the warning sticks this time? Well…I’ll let my ‘new butler’ explain it.”
“David?”
“…Bing? Izzat you?”
“David, Sir Percy, he…he seems a might angry with us both. Now, I don’t blame you, I thought we sung a pretty little number, so I don’t want you to think this is your fault, okay, son? You just…you go on ahead and enjoy your Christmas, now.”
“Bing, what d’yeh mean…?”
BLAM!
“Bing? BING!”
“David?”
“SIR PERCIVAL, WHAT DID YOU DO, MAN?!”
“I sent you a Christmas greeting you’ll never forget. Now buy your own fucking piano and stay out of my fucking house.”
“Ah god!”
“And David?”
“…yeh?”
“Happy Christmas. Mate.”
CLICK

…And that’s the part of the special that never shows up on YouTube. Go ahead and Google it if you don’t believe me.

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Comments
  1. V.I.P. Referee says:

    This is crueler than Krampus! Bing should’ve known about the dangers of aristocratic England! They’re all mad and live in cavernous houses full of heavy, pointy objects.

    This changes everything.

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