Another Christmas Story: One Possible Outcome
Orignal Christmas Improvised Fiction especially for the DBInfosource Board by Paul Hunt (aka: PRH's Ghost)
PRH awakes at dawn on 12.25.03 long before anyone else in his home. He slips into a worn pair of plaid, converse chuck taylors and pulls a stocking cap onto his head. The world is silent. Looking back his wife sleeps peacefully, her hair swept about her pretty face like seagrass in a tide.
Stepping across the hall, he passes into the lime green world of his
youngest daughter's nursery. She lay there, silent. Her chest rising and
falling, almost imperceptibly. Her eyes look like they have been drawn on to her tiny face. Her legs move rhythmically, like a dog dreaming of chasing rabbits.
Then to the boy's room. He too sleeping quietly, only the top of his head peeking out, cursed with his dad's double crown and blessed with his mother's cleft chin. Dim light tugs at the curtains and sneaks it's way
into his room to gently bring him to wake.
One more door down to see the pre-teen splattered across her bed, as if she's been dropped on her bed in exhaustion, from three feet in the air. She snores quietly. Her floor is a sea of clothes from yesterday's
"What-am-I-going-to-wear-empty-the-closet-ritual."
And into the living room he finds himself, facing the prefab Douglas Fir
tree, alight with angels and bunting, rays of golden light like the
Ghost-of-Christmas-Present-on-Broadway. Piles of commerce in shiny paper and bows, a foundation as the tree rises to the mantle of the heavens...just 11.5 feet above his cold hardwood floor. Father Christmas has come and gone...crumbs of cookies on a plate, an empty glass of milk...he didn't touch the Haggis Omlette.
He begins to unwrap his gifts. From his mother, corporate honesty and lower prices on music. Tucked inside that box as a suprise...like she always does at Christmas time, an envelope with some equity for hard working musicians...a little bit of spotlight for the little guy.
Next to a brand new Dean Icon Guitar, a wrapped picture frame. Inside the frame, a picture of Ariel Sharon and Yasser Arafat sitting side by side on a park bench sharing a pizza and watching kids playing at a nearby playground...all kinds of kids.
In a stocking hanging over the entertainment center (we don't have a
chimney) a list of names of folks who woke up healthy this morning. He pulls the list from the sock, looking for the end but the paper just keeps coming. He smiles and stops when he sees a few names he recognizes. The paper dangles as something delightful catches his eye.
He turns to a dark corner, near the dining room to see boxes of unwrapped cases of beer from every corner of the globe. Guinness, Staropramen, TsingTao, Tiger, Boulevard, Sapporro, Molsen, Warsteiner, Iron City, Negro Modelo, and more and more. His face begins to hurt from smiling so much. Suddenly, another gift arrives...he realizes he has no desire to drink it...at least not until tonight. The familiar thud of a heavy newspaper landing on concrete and he turns. Opening the door into orange and pink sunrise, he waves at the paper guy, today on foot rather than motorized wheelchair because his leg has miraculously grown back.
"Nice leg, Bob! Where'd you get it?" he yells with suprise to the old vet.
"It's Christmas, Paul! And I got everything I wanted...my old leg...and all that anger...the war...all gone! Oh...and you should see all the BEER!" He shouts over his shoulder...his long blonde hair bouncing as he walks down the street.
"I got beer too, Bob! Isn't it great?" he smiles and turns back inside to
unfold the paper. The kids are up and his wife too, tearing into their
gifts....train sets, fashionable clothing...a box filled with happy futures,
long lives...and matching sets of world peace. It's not until after he
surveys the the landscape of gifts and happy faces that he see's the
headline.
"EVERYTHING'S FINE!" in huge print...bigger print than any headline about war or assasinations or death or scandal. The second page is
recipies...the third...comics...the fourth...sports....and the fifth...advertisements.
And everything is 50% off.
That's all I've got for y'all...keep your fingers crossed and hope it comes true...to some extent.
Yours,
PRH
