DJ Snowflake and Scrooge
December 2
11:37 pm
"Take a left next at the big tree. Follow the road until it isn't a road until it turns back into a road. Old Creek Road becomes Middle Creek Lane, but if it turns into Plum Creek Road then I've gone too far."
"If I get to the end of Plum Creek Road, I better not end up IN Plum Creek! What kind of fucking directions are these?" Santana said out loud with a groan.
"Well-" A voice sleepily responded. "You didn't have to come until tomorrow."
"You said it was a rush."
"I said it was 'a rush, but not a rush rush' and definitely not a 'come in the middle of the night rush."'
"Mercedes, you said you had something for me. That it would get me away. I could work in peace and quiet over the holidays without all the racket. So in my book, that's a rush." Santana made a sharp turn down another road that looked even darker than the last one she had been on. How could it be so dark? Why weren't there any lights or street lamps? It was unnerving even with her high beams on. She squinted out her window and raised her voice so Mercedes would definitely hear her through the speakerphone. "And why the fuck isn't your town even on my GPS? Are you so far removed from civilization that you're living in a commune now?"
"I thought you said communes were a lesbian thing." Mercedes quickly corrected her former college roommate. "And yet…weren't you the one who spent three weeks in the middle of upstate New York because your girlfriend at the time wanted to give subsistence farming a try? And she was trying to make you a vegataria-"
"Alright!" Santana quickly cut her off, but not before she turned a dark shade of red. "There was no need to bring her up. I don't even remember her name-"
"Kyrsten. With a 'y'-" Mercedes easily reminded her. Santana sputtered. "And you made sure to remind us anytime we invited her anywhere. As if it mattered that I spelled it any differently than when I said it."
"She cou-"
"-could tell." Mercedes finished the sentence before Santana. She had heard that line about a thousand times in the two months Santana had dated Kyrsten. "I know."
"I thought you said you were tired." Santana tried to change the subject. But an old wooden sign post caught her eyes. "Shit! I think I'm back on Plum Creek Road!"
"That means you went too far! Go back and find the left cut off. It will open to Grange Road."
"Ugh!" Santana spun the wheel of her car obnoxiously with disregard for the rules of the road. There was no one out there anyway. The only thing she was in danger of hitting was a squirrel or a possum. "Cedes, you live in the middle of Bumblefuck and these roads are so stupid."
"As I said before and many times previously, you could have come in the morning…" Mercedes mumbled.
Santana finally saw the left cutout "road" that Mercedes had been talking about. "I found Grange Road or whatever."
"Finally! Now just follow it down about two miles and ask for directions at the gas station about how to get to Main Street in Midtown."
"What?!" Santana glanced to the phone in her hand as if Mercedes could see her. "You were supposed to help me!"
"It's almost midnight, Tana. I've got work. You're in one of your stubborn moods and frankly, I don't think you're gonna make it tonight. You might as well pull off the road, turn off the engine, and find it in the morning with my very accurate directions."
"Hell no! I'm not doing that and I can follow directions. Yours just suck-"
"Or you could do what any normal person would do when they are lost and ask for directions. But if you want to spend the rest of the night driving around and being lost, that's on you. Good night, Santana, and maybe I'll see you tomorrow morning."
"I'll see you to-" The phone beeped to signal Mercedes had hung up. "-night." Santana rolled her eyes. "I'm definitelynot asking for directions at some hicktown gas station."
She punched the dial for the radio. Static. She twisted the knob and pressed the scan button for anything. Static. Santana glanced from the dark road to the radio button to make sure she wasn't on AM or some other function. Static. The twisted shapes of leafless trees lined the road and as far as Santana could see, there was certainly no gas station for miles. Mercedes had to be wrong. She twisted the radio dial again.
-lcome back!
That was one of my personal favorites – The Little Drummer Boy.
You are about to get into another Berry Block on WMHS 97.3 where you'll hear one of the greatest Christmas albums of all time from Midtown's very own Rachel Berry. You are rocking into December with your favorite and only late night Christmas show – DJ Snowflake.
"Oh god no." Santana's fingers fumbled for the dial again. "Anything but a Berry song. It's only December second. Don't they have laws against playing Christmas music this early? People should be arrested. I don't know what people, but definitely some people somewhere should be arrested for playing Christmas songs far too early. No one wants to hear the same three songs played over and over again for the next four weeks."
Some lights up ahead distracted her from tuning the radio station any further. Maybe Mercedes had been right about what street she was on, which meant she certainly didn't need some nasty old man behind a counter ogling at her and telling her which way she should go. Her car whizzed past the gas station without stopping.
Her finger was still hitting the search button for a radio station. The static cleared for a second. Santana tapped it back to the station.
That was an extra long Berry Block. It's DJ Snowflake and I'm back here to ask you about how you feel about tinsel. It's just weird to say. Like have you said it out loud? Tinsel. Tinnnnnnnssseeelllllll. Now say it super fast. .Tinsel. Tinseltinseltinseltinsel.
"What the fuck?" Santana glanced down at the radio in disbelief. Was this chick high or something?
- it feels like it's sparkling in your mouth and I just don't know how I feel about. Like where did the word even come from and why don't we use it any other time of the year?
Where the fuck was she? She was so confused, that she forgot to follow Mercedes's directions.
If you have any thoughts on tinsel or other Christmas words, call in and talk to me about it. My number is 1-800-SNOFLAKE. I'll be here all night saying the word tinsel and other holiday themed words like figs and figgy pudding.
Santana punched the radio off and looked back up. Why couldn't she have rented a car with bluetooth or even a cd player? This was torture.
Once again, her vision filled with dark trees, brush, and darkness, nothing distinguishable to help get her bearings. She could keep driving, but there was a very real possibility of getting lost even more. Then Mercedes would never let her live it down that she slept on the side of the road because she couldn't follow directions or worse, ask for directions.
"Fuck."
Ten minutes later Santana pulled her car into the relatively empty lot of the gas station. The glass door stuck and she had to give it an extra hard tug to enter the building. It was a typical gas station full of candy, chips, soda, and with rows of cigarettes behind the counter. Santana didn't know what she had expected, but after spending hours driving down backroads, she felt like civilization should have appeared in the form of a warm bed and place to sleep.
So I was thinking about other words that we only use around Christmas like-
The same radio station Santana had been avoiding in the car blared through the loudspeakers at the shop.
A voice called from behind the counter. "Be with you in a minute."
"Look, it's only going to take a second of your time." Santana approached the counter curious as to where the voice was coming from.
"Yeah. Yeah. Sure. Get in line."
"There isn't a line. I'm the only person here." Her annoyance rose at the glib brush off. "I just need some directions."
"Oh! Directions!" A blonde head popped up from beneath the counter with a nail brush dripping in red paint. She was young and if it wasn't the midnight shift, Santana would have questioned if this girl was even out of high school. She smiled as if pleased to see another woman this late at night. "I can help with that."
"I would hope so." Santana rolled her eyes. "I'm trying to get to Midtown."
"Well duh! Where else would you be going?" She waved her hand in the air to try to dry her nails faster. "Coming in for the holidays? You must be visiting. Not a lot of people come out here unless they have family."
"College roommate."
Plum Pudding. Poinsettia.
The holiday DJ was still talking in the background over the speakers.
Doesn't poinsettia seem like it could be anything except a flower like –
"I applied for college, but then I decided I was too good for them so I sent them all rejection letters." The girl said between blowing lightly on her red nails.
"And you decided to become a gas station attendant instead?"
"Well yeah. I get to jam out to music all the time and help strangers." Satisfied that her nails were finally dry, the girl stuck her hand out in a rather perfunctory manner. Santana reluctantly shook hands and offered what she could emotionally spare to smile at her. "It's a pretty cool gig. I'm Sugar."
"Of course you are." Santana released her hand and leaned back from the counter. But when "Sugar" didn't offer anything more than a handshake, her faux smile quickly turned down. "So about those directions?"
"Oh! Right!" Sugar ducked underneath the counter and came back with what appeared to be a bunch of papers all jumbled and thrown together. It wasn't until she flopped them onto the desk and tried to spread them out that it became apparent what it was. "Here ya go!"
A map.
"You're kidding, right?" Santana couldn't believe there were even maps still available or that people were still using them. "This is a joke, right? Can't you just tell me where to go?"
"Oh I could try, but I'm awful with directions. This is soooooo much better. Trust me." The girl's eye brows wiggled as she slid the obnoxiously large crinkled and folded map in Santana's direction. Her other hand snatched a tootsie pop from the display. She had the sucker in her mouth faster than Santana could reach for the antique road map.
"Thanks." Santana slapped a twenty dollar bill on the counter.
It didn't matter how dry Santana's thank you sounded, the girl still smiled around the stem of her lollipop. "Don't mention it." Santana started to walk away from the counter. "Hey! I never got your –" The door to the gas station closed. " – name."
"A map?" Santana started flipping the map around in her hands. She had no idea where she was already. How the hell was she going to find herself on a flipping map? She repressed the urge to yawn and shiver and shout at the same time. "This place is a joke. Whatever Mercedes wanted me to come out for better be worth it."
She slammed the door to her car shut and flipped the ignition on. With the small lights in her rear view mirror, she scoured the map of what she thought had to be her location. She yawned into the back of her gloved hand. Her eyes were scanning hard to find Grange Road, as it was the last road Mercedes had talked about before she had hung up.
How hard could using a map really be?"
