The Nightmare of Christmas Present

1:43 am (middle of the night) after Midnight Mass

You know that moment in a horror flick when the hand comes up out of the ground, or out of the water, or out of grave... (it doesn't really matter what it comes out of) - but in any case, it scares the snot out of you...well, this is exactly what happened at our house on this particular Christmas in the dark hours of the early morning.


Out of nowhere, a hand - "The Hand" shot up through the 4-foot strata of wrapping paper and grabbed one of Pinky's thick ankles. Ejected out of his chair like a misfired rocket, Pinky screamed bloody murder if he had just been attacked by the legendary one armed hatchet murderer. In a dizzy head-rush, Pinky began to spin in circles as though he were about to fall over and the Wolf Pack panicked, scrambling to get out of the way - for fear of being squished to death...as if by an 8 ton tree.






As I mentioned before, our house was haunted, so I wasn't worried too much about being Pinky falling over on top of me. I was more concerned about "The Zombie Hand" of the Boogie-man - so I freaked out and jumped up on the back of couch while Matilda climbed up and perched herself on top dad's head.

Screaming...Panic...Fear and Mayhem broke out... This was our house on Christmas.




I'm pretty sure this is not they way it is most normal families.  My friend, Julie, at Saint Mark's told me about their Christmas. She said they had a fake, white Christmas tree and had the cool colored lights...the kind you see in the window displays at department stores. If she said this to make me jealous - it worked. The best part about the picture was not the green ornaments on the Styrofoam flocked Christmas tree or that she was still taller than her little brother, but the mini-skirt!  

That was was pretty cool - I guess!


32 minutes earlier: 1:11am.



My mother remembered back to the days when we were young and in control and longed for those days again - but they had been lost forever.








But the fact that my Brothers had grown up to be full fledged hippies - never stopped her from trying to make our Christmas like they used to be.

Good luck with that one Mrs. D.  So on the way home from Mass...by the time we were passing by John Gillemot's house Mom was already screaming for us to pay attention. She was about to give the annual "Pre-Christmas-Speech" on how we were to open our presents.

 It didn't help that we had to pass the Famous Lennon sister's house...it only served to make things worse. I swear you could angels signing "Gloria in Excelsis Deo" as we rounded the corner and passed by their statue of the Blessed Virgin Mary.  Mom looked towards the Lennon with begging eyes as if hoping her kids could be more like Bill and Sis's kids: sweet, obedient, kind, thoughtful, intelligent, musical, reverent...(I think the list was pretty big - because her pause was long).

As if she were herding a bunch of feral-cats... she screamed all the way to the front door of the house and charged inside in front of the motley crew. Throwing herself against the two great big sliding door that lead into the living room (where the presents had been delivered by Frank Nargie while we were at Church).

Mom gave us her list of demands...as though we were prisoners of war and was threatening to withhold our weekly rations should we not comply.  I wanted it mom's way but nobody listened. The older boys tried to open the doors and prior her fingers off as she shouted her famous last words. "Over my dead body!" 

That didn't work... then the list of names and the "Clause"  GustavBjornKnutLeifUlrich...hell...whatever your name is...UNDER PAIN OF MORTAL SIN!" she screamed hoping to get our attention.

SILENCE for one split second as the Wolf Pack contemplated purgatory then rushed head long into the room and assaulted the presents as if they were a dead caribou that lay under the Charlie Brown Tree.

Whoosh…wizzzzz…Bam
Presents were chucked and flew across the room like misguided missiles striking members of the brood in the forehead!

Picking up a present and reading the label...someone would say "Here...this one's for Dooh-Dooh Pants" and  fling it - not really caring whether or not it got broken or where it ended up - other than hoping someone got hurt in the process. 

"This one's for... Puke-Breath" another brother would say, just before the indiscriminate tossing of projectile that nearly cracked a window. 

 Whoosh…KaBam!

Presents flew... Mom fumed...Dad mumbled...and Kjerstan and I "stopped, dropped and took cover" as if the Air Raids Sirens were blaring in alarm.

There was no soft golf clap of appreciation after each patient unwrapping that neither honored the gift-giver or acknowledge the person receiving the gift.      My mom's biggest nightmare had come true. 

1:26 am 
Shredded rapping paper was carelessly flung into the center of the room like the living room was the Sepulveda Dump.

1:42 am 
The loud chaos... the present opening frenzy continued at a fevered pitch and the strata of torn-up wrapping paper began to pile up higher and higher. 4 feet high - a record and that was when the Zombie attack happened. 

1:43 am  The Hand emerged from under the strata of crumpled paper and clawed Picky's ankle, which set off an unfortunate chain of events...

I will share the rest of the story on Christmas Day... until then be blessed and be a blessing! On this Christmas Eve know that you are loved dearly - the message of Christmas!