Page Created: 12/27/11. Last Updated: 12/27/11.
By now everybody on the block had heard the song in its entirety. And, excepting the four singers, of course, every one of them would've been happy never to hear it again. People who'd sworn they'd get sick if they heard about Rudolph or chestnuts roasting on an open fire again would've gladly heard those songs instead of Brad Warner and his friends' take on The Twelve Days of Christmas. Folks who'd happily have roasted the Chipmunks on the open fire were now considering four different candidates for barbecue. So far enough Christmas spirit remained that nobody had called the police, thrown snowballs at the four kids, or maybe just stormed out and told them to shut up and get lost, but it was waning quickly.
Brad, on the other hand, was still enthralled with his musical abilities. And his pals all got a kick out of his creation.
"Guys?" he asked his buddies, who, being somewhat less guilty will just be referred to by their first names of "Jack," "Sammy," and "Goon-Face" (all right, that was his nickname, but it was accurate). "Wanna give 'em one more chorus before we go home?"
"YEAH" said his partners in musical crime emphatically.
"All right, then. Let's give it to 'em! A-one, anna two, anna three ... "
And the still, cold night air was shaken by voice of the sort rarely heard except during the mating season of certain large, ugly, bad-tempered animals. Christmas lights and ornaments vibrated to the voices, dogs and cats howled and scratched desperately to be let inside, and icicles fell from roofs.
"ON THE TWELTH DAY OF CHRISMAS, DEAR SANTA GAVE TO ME ...
"A MOUSETRAP IN MY STOCKING! ELEVEN USED-UP GIFT CARDS! TEN ELF SIZED GYM SOCKS! NINE DIRTY FOOTPRINTS! HIS BOOT STUCK IN MY CHIMNEY! SEVEN STONE STALE FRUITCAKES! SIX BUSTED ORNAMENTS. FIVE LUMPS OF COAL! FOUR REINDEER TURDS! THREE NECKTIES! ASHES AND SOOT ... AND A GREAT BIG RAZZ-BERRY!"
The teenagers then ironically bowed and departed to the sound of many heartfelt requests to go home and stop making that horrible racket.
One person who'd heard the commotion hadn't said anything. All four of the young bums were already on his bad list, but this moved them up from just the "ignore 'em" to the "special treatment" category. while his cronies would get off fairly light, Brad's new song, added to a whole lot of other things he'd done over the year, had put him in line for a real surprise on Christmas morning. In the past, Brad had been thrashed within an inch of his life by a kid half his size, slid on ice while running from the scene of a crime and spent the whole winter aching from his bruises, and twice received supernatural comeuppance. He was due for a third time.
Giving a used-up gift card for Christmas was just too mean a gag.
Jack, Sammy and Goon-Face were each woken up late Christmas Eve by somebody sneaking into their room and making a loud Bronx Cheer right in each kid's ear. No one was there when they looked around, including a fat guy with a beard and red suit they understandably thought about. Each attributed it to a dream and soon forgot about it, although none of them were able to get back to sleep that night. They might've gotten scared if they'd ever compared notes, but they didn't.
Brad Warner, on the other hand, found something unexpected when he got up Christmas morning. It was in his bedroom, with a big red bow tied around it and a tag with his name on it. A very small pear tree (complete with pears) growing in a large pot, with a very tame gray and brown bird perching on it.
He spent the next eleven day wondering if the other stuff was going to show up, too, what was he going to do with it, and how the hell was he going to explain this to his parents?
- - - - -
Editors Note:
This story came with Chuck's 2011 Christmas cards.