“And I’ll play with my View-Master. And then we’ll watch the Charlie Brown special in the portable DVD player that I wired to the TV. Charlie Brown has a crappy Christmas tree just like ours. But if we stand around it and wave our arms, it becomes a great tree!.. Coleman, stand up, join me! Let’s wave our arms!.. Why isn’t it working?”
Several hours later.
A knock at the door.
Actually a foot kicking. Coleman answered. Serge rushed in with arms loaded down, followed by gusts of frigid air. Coleman closed the door quickly.
Serge set the bags on the table. “Christmas dinner’s ready!” He shivered and rubbed his shoulders. “Man, the temperature’s still dropping. The old dial thermometer they got nailed up outside the office says it’s thirty-nine.”
Serge and Coleman had rented room number three, which connected on either side to two other rooms, respectively occupied by the G-Unit and City and Country. They had all gathered in Serge’s room, sitting on beds and awaiting his return with a promise of an ultra-traditional holiday meal.
“Here are the sides,” Serge said as he emptied the bags. “And I got two buckets each of regular and extra crispy.”
They dug in.
Coleman munched on a drumstick. “So what presents did you girls get?”
Edith bit into a crispy wing. “We all bought each other Yule logs.”
Country licked her fingers and held up an envelope. “Serge got us gift cards for Hooters.”
“That’s a historic present,” said Serge. “The very first one is just off the Courtney Campbell in Clearwater.”
The afternoon wore on. Listless, overstuffed dinner casualties lay about the room digesting way too much food. Rum began to flow. Laughter filled the musty air as the eclectic group shared jokes and bonded. Serge continually darted in and out.
“Serge!” yelled City. “You’re letting all the cold air in. Why do you keep running in and out?”
“Because the temperature’s still dropping! The dial on the thermometer is down to thirty-three and still going south.”
“What’s that thing?”
Serge plugged an electric cord into the wall. A warm glow near the floor. “I bought a tiny space heater at the drugstore.”
They all gathered round, holding out their palms.
Serge stood back in utter contentment. “This is the best Christmas ever! There’s no possible way it can get any better!”
Country grinned mischievously. “Yes, it can get better.”
“What are you talking about?”
She walked over. “You haven’t seen your best gift yet.” Then she planted a big wet one on him.
Serge glanced around with mild embarrassment. “You want to… now?”
“No, not that.”
“Then what’s this gift?” asked Serge.
The same devious smile again. Then she canted her head toward the window. “Look outside.”
Serge did. His mouth fell wide as he walked stiffly across the room and placed his palms against the glass. Then he suddenly dashed out the door.
“Snow!”
The rest followed.
They were the tiniest of flakes that immediately melted in your hand, and there would be no accumulation, but it was indeed snow.
“What the hell is Serge doing now?” asked Edith.
“Running in circles in the parking lot,” said Edna. “Catching snowflakes on his tongue.”
The G-Unit silently looked at one another. Smiles broke out. They began running around the parking lot.
City glanced at Country. Two more smiles. They began running.
“Wait for me,” said Coleman.
Serge stopped on the sidewalk to observe the parking lot full of people racing around and laughing themselves silly as they reverted to children, which was what it’s all about. And Serge got a tear in his eye. “This is the best ever.”
Then he turned to the street, spread his arms wide, and announced to mankind in generaclass="underline"
“I bring everyone great news of joy! The War on Christmas is over! So Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah, Happy Kwanzaa, and yes, for the co-existence crowd, Season’s Greetings!.. Catch you all next year!”