The Polyphonic Spree magic at The Majestic in Dallas

After my first PSpree show, in November at The Birchmere in Virginia, band leader Tim’s niece, Natalie, told me about the Holiday Extravaganza. I called up my friend KTX from ATX, said “meet me in Dallas.”
My flight from DC took off 5 hours late. KTX met me at Love Field in Nemo, her Honda Element. He had a five o’clock shadow, a bad attitude and a broke-off rearview mirror.
We came, we saw, we found The Polyphonic Spree magic at The Majestic. I made a friend in the Bistro Bar line. My new friend, codenamed “K with a capital K, 5-going-on-6”, chucked a tanker-trailer of confetti snow on my head, battered me with red balloons, thought Gustafer was a cool visionary poet, smacked every dumb adult that tried to touch her Rudolph-painted nose, abracadabra’d the magician til he cried, popped 17 balloons right in my ear, pocketed Sharon’s accordion, shotgunned the hot chocolate brewer-thingy, stole my Moleskine ass-pocket-o-whiskey notebook & favorite red calligraphy pen — then she got serious. Later she got sad. But at least she’d learned where xmas tree decorations started, and her Mama was near.
She recruited Gustafer’s evil-twin & Vixen the real-actual-live-and-for-true ‘roid-raged reindeer bouncer I had met at The Majestic door. Those three hit the mosh pit. Vixen stage-dived a cloven hoof into my eye. Gustafer’s eel left a banana-peel slime-trail & stole my tube socks. That slime-trail flipped the entire orchestra-pit mob on their rumpsides. Tim’s Mom took notes, trusted in prudence. She gave K the evil eye. K started to cry.
Despite her marauding behavior though, I pointed to her / my new-to-her, lost-to-me notebook and told her brother “no matter her crimes and misdemeanors, you can’t be a dick on this one … that’s hers … protect that.” I looked at K and C’s mother. She hadn’t dagger-eye’d me.
I have 2 good-for-nuthin’ Brooklyn nephews, Los Hombres Malos, Dylan & Daniel, 8 & 10. For the 14th HX, I aim to bring them. If there’s a god, they won’t fall in league with Dangerous K, but sit on the front step and drink hot chocolate with the Soaring Santa made of papier-mache.
Distressed Gentlefolk,
Delighted Fan