This is "Part 2" of 1126 Tomcat Way
It was Christmas Eve’s Eve. I slept nice, but I awoke exhausted. The coughing and the codeine played tag team with me. My stomach growled loudly, “Okay, okay, I get the picture,” I groaned as I staggered out of bed. The phone rang as I walked into the kitchen. Brooke answered it. Her voice jumped several octaves, “HE’S WHAT?”
“Why wasn’t I notified?”
“Why is he being released so soon?!??”
“He demanded it?
“How long ago?”
“He’s waiting for me?” Brooke face palmed as she finished, “Oh…,I’ll be right there.” She put the phone down and took a deep calming breath. “They released my grandfather-” she stopped and shook her, “No. He released himself.”
I took a sip of Gatorade as she looked at me sternly, “No computer luv. I want you off of it. You’re supposed to be getting your rest. I’m serious luv. I’m going to call Ernie before I leave to go to the hospital and ask have him watch you while I’m away.” She paused for dramatic effect and finished, “I’ll have him put Susie Snowflake on the repeat cycle if you do.”
Pure unadulterated horror gripped my donut pumping heart. I had heard that song countless of times when I worked at a toy during my senior year of high school; worse, they played it on continuous rotation. That song would induce the most nauseating Yule Tide feeling. “You wouldn’t…”
“Susie Snowflake, Santa Baby, Paul McCartney’s rubbish song, The Italian Donkey, Sinatra’s J-I-N-G-L-E Bells, Christmas Shoes, Natalie Cole butchering her daddy’s Christmas song, Rod Stewart and Dolly Parton nauseating version of Baby it’s Cold, and lastly Bonnie Raitt’s Christmas ‘song’ all in nonstop rotation if you should go onto the computer.” “With such a generous offer, how can I refuse?”
My victorious wife haughtily smiled. Total silence ensued until I weakly attempted to change the subject in a sly way, “Don’t forget to pick up the turkey.”
She narrowed her eyes and pointed her slender index finger at me, “You’re changing the subject luv, it’s not going to work…, Ernie!”
“Reporting for duty Mrs. Wolf!” the elite elf appeared magically in an explosion of everything good about Christmas, including fruitcake. He snapped a rigid salute. This time the elf was dressed in typical North Pole attire, “Lieutenant Commander Wolf is under my watch!”
“Make sure he doesn’t log onto the computer or else…”
“Or else…” Ernie begrudgingly echoed as he held up a CD holding my worst Christmas nightmare. I could see the pain in his eyes as he continued, “Please Ryan…, don’t make me play this…, please. It’s bad enough to hear Arnie singing ‘We are Santa’s elves’ off key.”
My poor ears wouldn’t be able to withstand the earsplitting onslaught of that abominable collection of songs without triggering a Trigeminal Attack. I picked up a white hanky and waved it. “Good boy,” Brooke stated and left to pick up the Old Man. Multiple candy cane explosions happened, speakers and an ipod appeared. Ernie clicked a button and the Christmas list I made for my yearly flights with Santa played. I reclined in my chair and smiled.
We chatted about our little adventures we’ve had. I grabbed a digital photo album and turned it on; I showed the curious elf various photos taken from my multiple misadventures. Nothing happened until I brought up the photo from my first mission with Brooke.
Ernie’s little red hat with fluffy white trim suddenly stood straight up as he gazed at the photo. The fluffy snowball at the tip of his hat jingled out a melodious Christmas tune. “That’s Mrs. Wolf!?!”
“Yes, our first assignment together.”
“Oh wow, Ryan. She reminds me of this cute little commando elf,” Ernie’s professionalism began to slip as he started to stammer…, funny how love does that. “She’s, she’s, she was the blonde at the. I mean. Uh, yeah, she was.” The flustered elf stopped and shook his head. He took a deep calming breath, “She was the only blonde elf at the Pave Low.”
“I saw her. What’s her name?” I asked.
“Myrrh,” he replied, “It’s a nice Christmas name.”
“Yes, it is,” I said and then told a white lie that I hoped Santa would forgive me for. “She was looking at you too.”
“She was!” the blushing elf exclaimed and fumbled for words again. “Um, what do I do? I-I-I-I-I’ve never ever dated before.”
“It took me a while to learn this, but be you. Be genuine. Start off slow you know, like a cup of hot cocoa after work. The next time include cookies with that hot cocoa, make sure they’re chocolate or some sort of chocolate icing or stripes. It has to be chocolate.” Ernie shook his head and quickly scribbled notes as I continued, “Chocolate is one of the main weaknesses of women, that and roses too. If that all works, then try dinner and a movie and take it from there.”
During our conversation of the fairer sex, I put my head back on the recliner and promptly fell fast asleep. I didn’t awake until there arose such a clatter!
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