To:

Mr. G. Beilschmidt
c/o Ludwig

*Note to the delivery boy: You will find Mr. Beilschmidt lurking in the basement.

From:

Mr. R. Edelstein
December 24, 2009

Mr. Beilschmidt,

Elizaveta said it was childish of me to have kicked you out of my house on Halloween without even giving you some of my famous Mozartkugel candy. I was going to debate her on the point, but, well, I had better things to do.

But really, Gilbert, what were you doing trick-or-treating? How old are you? Wait, I don't really want to know.

I shall refrain from commenting on your choice of costume. While I understand that Gilbird might have considered a giant chicken suit adorable-

Elizaveta's threatening to burn this and make me start over again, so here goes.

Merry Christmas, Mr. Beilschmidt.

Along with this letter you may expect my world-renowned apple cake.

Before you delicately bite into this heavenly creation, I urge you to take a moment to consider your pointless existence, and perhaps increase your own self-worth.

Meanwhile, I wish you a most delightful holiday.

Not yours,

Roderich Edelstein

Gilbert's Daily Adventures – December 25, 2009

...Which he had been told by West to write.

8:00am – Rolling under covers of bed, not wanting to wake up. Thinking that West probably went to work 2 hours ago. Was correct.

8:02am – Heard a disturbance upstairs. Chose to ignore it. Continue rolling on bed.

8:05am – Heard knocking on basement window. Decided to open it and traumatize knocker.

8:10am – As soon as window was open, a boy slipped in a letter and ran for it. Was disappointed for loss of chance to traumatize, but was intrigued by letter.

8:13am – Saw that the letter was from Specky. I mean, Roddy. I mean, Roderich. Laughed manically for 2 minutes from joy.

8:15am – Squinted at Specky's horrible, flowery writing. Couldn't read it. Looks like "blah blah blah blah blah". Shook head. Stared harder and tried again.

8:20am – Give up. Must tell Specky to stop writing in such girly manner.

8:21am – Smelled something good. Gaze drifted to window. Located the source of wonderful aroma. It was a box outside the window.

8:30am – Retrieved box. Opened it to discover apple cake. Mouth hangs open. Salivate.

8:33am – Tried to read Specky's letter again. Understood his suggestion to bite into cake delicately.

8:35 am – Decided to do the opposite of Specky's suggestion.

8:36am – Gulf down 1/6th of cake. Moan. Swallow. Close eyes as knees go weak. Die. Really, West. I am not joking. This cake is so good I shall now call it Holy Cake.

8:45 am – Half of cake gone. Stare at cake. Try to force hands to stop creeping towards it. Need to save West some, or will get kicked out of basement and become homeless.

9:00 am – Failed in the attempt to save West cake. Rest of Holy Cake gone. Groan.

9:10am – Decide that Specky needs to be thanked in person for Holy Cake. Lick lips. Mmm. Can still taste it on lips. Maybe Specky would want to taste it on lips as well. Happily bounce out of house. Destroy West's lawn on the way. (Sorry.)

The Journal of Elizaveta Hedevary – December 25, 11:12pm

I am still in shock. I cannot believe anything as good as this would ever happen.

So I was on the phone with Roderich this morning. He was sitting in his bedroom enjoying breakfast. It went something like this:

Elizaveta Hedevary (EH): So, Roderich, you DID send the Merry Christmas letter and the cake to Gilbert, right? I mean, what happened on Halloween wasn't really serious enough to warrant the whole silence treatment for two months.

Roderich Edelstein (RE): Yes, Elizaveta. I sent it along with the cake. Now can we talk about something else? Perhaps the Christmas concert?

EH: Isn't it tonight?

RE: Yes. Excuse me, Elizaveta, someone is knocking on the door rather loudly. Will you hold on for a moment?

EH: Sure.

So I was just hanging in there waiting, and then I heard a crash over the phone as if Roderich's bedroom door had been run over by an elephant. And oh, after that WHOSE VOICE do I hear but—

Gilbert Beilschmidt (GB): oh SPECKY~ I have come to thank you for your cake!

RE (sounding panicked): Really, Gilbert, you're too kind. You shouldn't have.

GB: Of course I should have. Oh I know! Roddy, why don't you come here and have a taste of your own cake? I almost died because it was so good.

RE: I wish you did. Huh? What are you talking about? I don't see my cake anywhere.

GB: Of course you don't.

RE: I'm sorry?

GB: God, how dim are you? Obviously I ate all the cake.

RE: What? But didn't you just ask me to taste it?

GB: Yeah, I did.

RE: I…beg your pardon?

GB: You are so dumb. Just come here.

At this point in time you can understand why I was getting a little excited. I thanked god that Roderich completely forgot about the fact that he didn't even hang up the phone. This must be God's way of thanking me for whacking Francis on the head with my pan the other day. Speaking of God…

RE: OH MY GOD. URGGGHHH GILBERT GET OFF ME GET OFF GET OFF—

GB: Hey, I'm just trying to get you to taste Holy Cake. Now stop squawking like Gilbird and relax.

RE: ...Don't stand in my personal space like you belong there! ...Hey! I mean it! I can't believe you—Oh.

GB: Oh?

RE: Mmmmm.

GB: I told you so.

RE: …My cake, I mean. Mmm, cake. Not your lips. God, no. Definitely not that your lips tasted good or anything. Don't misunderstand. It's just the cake.

GB: Are you retarded?

Then I'm pretty sure one of them attacked the other. Or at least I think so. The details were a little fuzzy over the phone and my head was getting awfully dizzy from hyperventilation. Really, I'd say use your imagination. Go wild. Because I could definitely hear some struggling, some swearing, and then some sucking. Or kissing. Whichever you prefer. Roderich insists that it was strictly the taste of the cake that he liked and Gilbert insists that Roderich should just shut the fuck up.

RE: (sounding choked) Gilbert, I think that is quite enough. I feel faint.

GB: Shut the fuck up.

Then Roderich squealed because presumably Gilbert just pushed him onto the bed and for a while all one could hear was heavy breathing and other such stuff and oh, bless Roderich for keeping his phone right beside his bed and my heart was pounding so hard and—

...Excuse me. My nose started to bleed.

Anyway, under the circumstances, there was only one thing to do.

I got my sound recorder and put the phone on speaker.

For the next half an hour or so, they did some very interesting stuff. It was nice. Some stuff I heard was so shocking that even I had the decency to feel scandalized. If I happened to make a sound, they didn't hear it of course, the reason being…Well. You know.

I have it all recorded on CD. Every delicious second.

Good God. It's fantastic stuff.

Even now I'm splashing ice cold water on my face.

This is going straight on my TV show. The Christmas Special episode. I bet the ratings would break the world record. I can imagine the headlines right now: DIRECTOR HUNGARY BECOMES A LEGEND. Oh god, yes. I'll definitely get a lot of coverage for this. Perhaps I'll get invited back on the Awesome Show too.

Best Christmas ever.

Gilbert's Daily Adventures – December 26, 2009

8:00am – Woke up. Tried to stretch in amazingly comfortable bed. Failed. Discovered the reason for failure: there was something soft and silky (but heavy!) lying on my arms.

8:02am – Turn head. See Roddy.

8:09am – Observe Roddy without his glasses on. Drool.

8:15am – Whisper in Roddy's ear, "Merry Christmas." Although, you know, technically it's not even Christmas anymore. But whatever.

8:20am – Those long eyelashes of his flutter.

8:21am – Observe how misty his eyes are. Do not think he is fully awake. Watch as he opens his mouth. Suddenly recall Elizaveta's stupid script for her stupid TV show which describes Roddy as "O that beauty mark of yours! It only accentuates your slightly parted, tempting lips". Snicker at memory. Maybe will convince Roddy to join TV show again. It was fun.

8:30am – Unfortunately, Roddy disagrees. Face turns into that of a murderer.

8:31am – Roddy screams bloody murder.

8:32am – Roddy lifts my gloriously naked body and hurls me out of window, while squealing about how I made him miss the Christmas concert or something unimportant like that. Typical Roddy behavior.

8:33am – Crash into garden below painfully. Wonder how Roddy got so strong. Perhaps the influence of that horrible Arnold Schwarzenegger.

8:35am – Clothes fall on my pounding head. Also thrown out the window by Roddy, I should think.

8:40am – Didn't feel like putting clothes back on. After all, the world needs more of my glorious nakedness. Start walking home while whistling Jingle Bells.

9:00am – Arrive home. Thought about what happened yesterday. Laugh.

Best Christmas ever.

The Journal of Roderich Edelstein – December 26, 2009, 9:00am

Dear lord above. I cannot believe I missed the Christmas Concert. Because of Gilbert, no less. I believe I need to issue yet another restraining order around March, because if I missed the March Concert-

Oh, what the hell.

I would rather destroy my Chopin-blessed piano than to admit this to anyone, but—

Best Christmas ever.


MERRY CHRISTMAS. Hopefully everyone's Christmases will turn out to be the best one ever too.