This Christmas Morning, Installment 5

Chapter 2, Part 3: Dewey
Leo glanced at his watch. “Only a couple more minutes until the Twenty Four Hour Christmas Extravaganza Wrestlemania Marathon begins. What a way to spend ‘oh holy night,’ right grandpa? With the greatest of the World Wrestling Federation right in your own living room.”

Grandpa eyed the tree and sighed. “I bet the Rock never had a plastic Christmas tree.” The phone rang and Leo jolted up but grandpa held him back. “Wait!”

“I’ll get it.”

“You’re going to be serving women the rest of your life if you don’t learn early. Now sit down and count to seven.” He grabbed the boy and body-slammed him to the couch.

“Seven?” asked Leo. They let it ring a second and third time.

Ariel called from the kitchen. “Can somebody get that?” A fourth time. “Can somebody get that?” It rang a fifth and sixth. “Will someone please get that?” With the seventh ring Ariel burst into the room. “Hello!”

Grandpa smiled at Leo. “Females. They can’t stand to let it ring more than seven times. Near as I can figure, it must be a genetic defect built into the X chromosome.”

Ariel stayed on the phone for all of thirty seconds, which was her own personal record for brevity, and only muttered a few “uh huhs” before hanging up. Grandpa winked at Leo. “ Oh, was that the phone?”

The girl growled back. “Oh, was that the phone?”

“Who was it?”

“I don’t know. Something about the food baskets mom’s picking up. I’m supposed to ask you if you remembered to order the turkeys from your friend who has the turkey farm. They weren’t in the baskets.”

Grandpa snarled at himself and slapped his own face. “Shoot. Forgot. That’s the second worst thing about Altzheimers. You just keep forgetting things.”

“What’s the first worst?” Leo asked.

Grandpa and Leo smiled, winked and spoke simultaneously. “I can’t remember.” The stale joke was interrupted by a car screeching to a halt and sliding into what sounded like a garbage can.

“

Roy

’s here,” said Grandpa without breaking stride.

Ariel was first to the window. “An ‘82

Toyota

? And he’s got Barbie with him.”

Grandpa tried to keep from smiling. “Her name is Fern. Not Barbie.”

Monty emerged cradling the phone between his chin and shoulder, stuffing papers into a briefcase. “What was that?”

Grandpa licked his comb and smoothed down the sides of what used to be his hair. “Roy and Barbie are here.”

Monty wondered for a moment if

Roy

had found another new girlfriend since the funeral, then shrugged his shoulders and finished his call. “Gotta go, Bob. Brother-in-law and his new lady friend are here. You know. Yeah. The family thing. Okay, I’ll see if you can slip away for a while to talk about that Andersen Window account. Maybe tomorrow. What? Ooooh, you’re right. It’s Christmas.” He paused and glanced at his Palm Pilot. “Better not make it until after ten.”

The clang of Norwegian goat bells hanging on the front door hailed the arrival of the lovely couple. Fern burst through the doorway in a sexy red Santa dress two sizes too small, doused with enough perfume to choke a herd of reindeer. She immediately tweaked Ariel’s cheeks and pulled Leo to her bosom—which didn’t annoy him in the least. Then she snatched a cardboard mistletoe car freshener from her purse, kissed Monty on the lips and tried to do the same to an evasive Grandpa.

Roy

followed, staggering under the weight of a dozen bright packages and Fern’s seven pieces of matching designer luggage.

Leo steered uncle Roy toward the tree and asked him if he could show them how to thread spaghetti from one nostril to the other like he did last Christmas. Grandpa muttered a snide remark about

Roy

flossing his brain and retreated to the safety of his chair.

“Care for a cup of Java,

Roy

?” asked Monty. “Cafe olé? MoJo?”

Roy

accepted and launched immediately into a one-sided discussion about how the wall paper business was booming in

Grand Forks

since the flood. Monty nodded, emptying three creams and six sugars into a Cenex coffee cup.

“I might have to add somebody after the first of the year,”

Roy

confided. “You interested in investing? Where’s sis?”

Monty was more interested in putting money into Chia Pet futures than in his brother-in-law’s seventh business in ten years. He quickly changed the subject.

“Jana’s out doing some last minute deliveries. You know, the church thing.”

Fern elbowed her secret fiancée and nodded at the door.

Roy

cleared his throat for the announcement. “Uh, say. Fern and I have a little...” He paused.

Fern chose the word. “Surprise...”

“Yeah, surprise with us this Christmas.” Leo and Ariel were suddenly interested. Grandpa muttered that he didn’t want another cat in the house until he killed the last one they gave him. 

Roy

hemmed and hawed. “Uh, yeah. Well, no, it’s not a cat. To... to tell you the truth...”

Fern chimed in again. “What he’s trying to say is, my ‘ex’ ran off with his karate instructor for the holidays and we . . .”

“Big woman. Strong woman,” Roy added.

“Kind of at the last minute. And we weren’t planning on it but what we’re trying to say is... well...” They looked at each other and broke the news simultaneously. “We had to bring Dewey with us.”

A momentary silence was followed by an audible gasp. The cat’s tail frizzed to the size of a squirrel and Leo swore he heard Grandma’s ghost scream in the attic.

Grandpa scowled. “Dewey? The kid still owes me $746 for the chandelier at the funeral home!”

Dewey the Destroyer, as Grandpa fondly referred to Fern’s boy, was an eight-year -bundle of frenetic energy who could ransack a home in minutes while jabbering in a way that made even Fern sound like a Pulitzer poet.

“I know he’s a handful, but don’t worry,” consoled Fern. “He’s on Redelin so everything should be fine.”

“Forget the kid,” Grandpa whispered to Leo. “It’s me who needs the drugs.”

As if on cue, a freckled terrorist burst through the doorway screaming for presents and leaving a wake of destruction in his path. In the next few moments the house was ransacked. A Christmas catalogue, the reading lamp and three couch pillows found their way to the floor. A poinsettia was defoliated, a half dozen packages were rattled and a garland somehow managed to tangle itself in the boy’s foot, bringing the entire Christmas tree crashing to the floor.

Jana was humming “Deck the Halls” and smiling at the fact that her house was finally in order as she fumbled for the doorknob. Balancing three church food baskets in her arms, she hadn’t noticed

Roy

’s car by the barn. If all was on schedule, the turkey would be in the oven, the table would be set and she would have a leisurely hour to make herself presentable before

Roy

and Fern arrived. They’d fan out and deliver the care packages in three cars on their way to worship and all would return for a quiet evening of presents, food and reflection. A glass of Grandma’s homemade wine, a glowing fire in the fireplace, and the contented smiles of her thankful children would top off a perfect evening and all would sleep in heavenly peace. There was only one thing in the world that could possibly spoil her plans for a perfect Christmas. And, thankfully, Fern’s little something was quietly spending this holiday season with his father in

Fargo

.

Jana muttered only two words as she opened the door and drank in the destruction. The first was “Dewey.”

The second wasn’t fit for print in any language.

(Tomorrow's Installment: Chapter 3, Fresh Turkey)