Introducing John [FICTION]

The turkey remained in reruns—turkey salad sandwiches, cold turkey sandwiches, turkey in omelets, turkey in spaghetti, just plain nibbling on turkey… Yet the Christmas season joyously got ushered in by those wishing to have just one holiday at a time as they finally put up the tree and made the whole house resemble a miniature North Pole.So it was time for another family to receive a gift that would keep giving for years to come.

As Petunia and Violet pulled at the shiny green wrapping paper, their aunt grinned at her brother and sister-in-law. The other adults blithely returned her smile until the gift was fully revealed. Trapped inside a sturdy cardboard box lay the keeper of Santa’s secrets and revealer of children’s choices: an elf on the shelf. Mom and dad exchanged started looks.

Aunt Mary grinned at her brother. “Remember that singing snail you bought Sebastian? Well, I knew you would love this just as much.”

Mom rolled her eyes at dad, accusation clearly etched on her features. Dad shrugged at her as the kids opened the box to reveal the elf dressed not in a little red outfit, mimicking the great king of Christmas himself, but in a plain white t-shirt and jeans.

“Let’s name him Arthur?” He grinned.

“Like Arthur Christmas?” Petunia asked.

“No, like the Fonz, eh?” Dad replied with a double thumbs up.

“Who is that? Ew. No!” Violet whined.

“How about John Cocoa Mallowcream?” Mom suggested.

“Yeah. That sounds festive,” Petunia agreed.

“And fancy,” Violet added.

Mary covered her mouth with her hand but the giggles still slipped past her fingers. “Oh yes, so fancy that it hurts so good.”

The children gave her disapproving looks of disdain and started to pull John out of his box.

“Nope. Don’t touch him,” Mary cautioned.

The girls paused, hands outstretched and worry now etched in their tiny eyes, “Why not?”

“Is he okay?”

They leaned forward to peer at him more closely, as if expecting to find him injured in some way.

“He is just fine, but if a child’s hands touch him, his magic won’t work and he won’t be able to tell Santa all the good things you are doing. Mommy and Daddy get to take care of him and keep him comfortable during his stay.”

Daddy shrugged his shoulders before patting his wife on the back, “Good thing Mommy is so hospitable.”

Mommy glared at her sister-in-law and husband, “I have never heard that children can’t touch him without affecting his magic, but sure, I will make him comfortable.” By some small miracle, her acquiescence sounded less like a threat than she intended.

“Thanks, mommy,” Violet and Petunia offered as one, lifting the box up for their mom to inspect.

Her face softened as she looked into theirs. She carefully opened the box and set the newest member of their family on the shelf next to the television.

“Now he can watch you while you watch Christmas movies,” she said.

“Our movies, right?” Petunia asked, hinting at the fact that most of the Christmas movies were the recycled stories aired on Mommy’s favorite holiday channel.

“Of course, dear. Anything you want. I want John Cocoa Mallowcream to give Santa a good report on me, too.” She winked conspiratorially at her two tiny humans.

The girls high-fived each other and went to sit quietly on the couch while the adults talked. Despite their best efforts to show John what very good girls they were, they eventually devolved into a tickle fight that ended when Violet fell off the couch and began crying. A few mommy kisses healed all wounds and they resumed catching up and showing off their best behavior.

By the time Mary left, John was all but forgotten in his spot on the shelf. Of course, Mom knew she would be getting up early to set up some elaborate scene for her new best friend. Otherwise, her observant daughters would call her out on how their elf didn’t move, so Santa hadn’t received his report.

The girls took forever to go to bed and then Daddy wanted to talk. He never once mentioned John, but he was the only thing on Mommy’s mind. When Daddy talked himself out and began softly snoring, Mommy pulled out her phone and began scrolling through scene ideas, hoping to find enough to get her through the holiday season without any meltdowns from her kids.

As her brain swam with a million different scenarios and her eyelids drifted toward each other, a sound downstairs brought her back to the land of wakefulness. She slowly slipped out of bed and padded downstairs. She peeked into the living room to find John standing in the middle of the floor with a tree from her miniature Christmas village clutched in one hand. He beckoned her forward and moved the tree closer to his lips.

“There she is. The busiest woman in the house. I just wanted to thank you for welcoming me into your home. With a little song.”

She stared at him but her feet accepted his invitation and brought her to the couch where she finally let her muscles relax as her guest sang her to sleep.

“There's a jolly man with reindeer

Livin' way up at the North Pole

He's got a full sleigh waiting in his front yard

You know he thinks that he's got it so good

“And there's a woman in the kitchen

Bakin' cookies for the workshop

And he looks at her and says, "Hey darlin'

I can remember when you could build a clock."

“Oh, but ain't that Christmas for you and me?

Ain't that Christmas somethin' to see, baby?

Ain't that Christmas keepin’ hearts free, yeah?

Gifts and goodies for you and me

Oh, yeah, for you and me

Ey!

“Well, there's a young man in fuzzy gloves

Buildin' a rock 'n' roll snowman

He's got merry eyes, merry smile

He says, “Santa's nice list is my destination"

“Cause they told me when I was younger

Sayin', "boy, you're gonna get the best present yet"

But just being nice didn’t promise those dreams

If time isn’t well spent

“Oh, but ain't that Christmas for you and me?

Ain't that Christmas somethin' to see, baby?

Ain't that Christmas keepin’ hearts free, yeah?

Gifts and goodies for you and me

Oh, yeah, for you and me

Ey!

“Well, there's people and nice people

What do they know, know, know

Be kind and play nice all year

And your Christmas gifts will grow and grow

Ooh, yeah

“And there's naughty and there's nice

So goodness becomes a big deal

When the holidays come around this year

And bring promised Christmas cheer

“Oh, but ain't that Christmas for you and me?

Ain't that Christmas somethin' to see, baby?

Ain't that Christmas keepin’ hearts free, yeah?

Gifts and goodies for you and me

Ooh

Ooh yeah

“Ain't that Christmas for you and me?

Ain't that Christmas somethin' to see, baby?

Ain't that Christmas keepin’ hearts free, yeah?

Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah

Gifts and goodies for you and me

“Ooh yeah

Ooh yeah.”

Mom stretched big and reached for her husband. She only found the back of the couch. Her eyes fluttered open and focused on John who remained on his shelf beside the television, smiling down at her with elven innocence.

“I dreamed that, right?” She asked him.

Of course, he didn’t respond.

~~~

Clearly, I have a fondness for elves on a shelf—as long as they remain on these digital pages of fiction and not at my house demanding I help them do something fun and creative every day. I just don’t have it in me to be that fun and creative every day. Why else would these posts happen approximately once a week???

Also, John Cougar Mellencamp rocks....Sadly, I do not rock as well. Forgive my slightly faulty song. Proofreading with young children is a crap shoot and I just hope I didn't change any words to whatever the children were fighting over ;)

Surprise Gift [FICTION]

“Too early.” I mumble grumpily, fumbling for my phone to delay waking up just a bit longer.

As I look at the screen, I realize no alarm has sounded. In fact, this early hour should never be interrupted by an alarm. Sighing, I realize that the only noise similar to my alarm resides next to my front door. I stumble there slowly, determined not to hurry for whatever rude dream crasher or solemn bearer of bad news awaits. By the time I reach the door, I wonder if I imagined the doorbell. I open it anyway and peer out into the square of light provided by the open door.

The dim glow reveals my doormat. I grumble and turn back toward my warm bed. A soft scratching noise draws me further out onto the porch. I make out the blocky shape of a medium-sized box next to the stairs. Something within scratches at the sturdy cardboard. I peer up and down the street at the dark houses. Nothing stirs but me—not even a mouse. In fact, the box now falls under the morning spell of silence, too.

A couple tentative steps bring me to the mysterious package. I take in a deep breath, cross my fingers, and prepare to flee. One flap. Two flaps. Gasp.

Nestled in a fluffy fleece blanket striped in white and red, a teeny baby sucks on a pacifier shaped like an evergreen bedecked for the season. As I marvel at the peaceful, sleeping face, I notice that pointy ears poke out from under the pointed green hat. I lift up another flap and find a note scrawled in red crayon.

“Please watch my baby boy until Santa can come to take him home. I had to leave the North Pole for cookie rehab, but I wasn’t quite ready to leave little Pepper Mint behind just yet.”

“Okay, Pepper, let’s get you inside,” I carefully lift the box and carry it inside.

I bring the box into my room and place it next to my bed. The tiny bundle doesn’t stir as I crawl into bed. In fact, he doesn’t make a single peep until I lift the flaps of the box and allow light to filter in over his sweet face the next morning. Instead of wailing, he blinks his eyes at me and opens his mouth. When I fail to fill it with food, he jams as much of his hand inside as he can and begins sucking avidly. All the while, he watches me with large green eyes.

“Oh, crap, what do baby elves eat?” I debate with myself. “Probably milk or formula. Do they make elf formula?”

The baby coos at me like he knows I am working on his breakfast. He’d probably learn to speak and hurry me along if he knew I have no idea what to give him. As I ponder exactly what needs to be done, a gentle hand falls on my shoulder.

“Whatcha got there, hon?” my husband’s deep voice breaks into my thoughts as he peers over my shoulder. “Something you need to tell me?”

“Someone dropped this little guy off on our doorstep last night.”

“Which one of your weird friends dropped off a baby dressed as hobbit for us babysit?”

I turn to glare at him, “Those are his real ears.”

“Really? So which one of your friends has hobbit ears?”

“It’s an elf…” I cry in exasperation.

“Like Legolas?”

“No. From the North Pole.”

The baby punctuates our conversation with a loud noise followed by an aroma wafting over us like a candy cane fell in a pile of dog poo. I cover my nose. Gill looks a little green.

“I believe her, little guy, geez.” He makes a break for the door.

I start to follow, but a plaintive wail lures me back into the stink zone. I try to hold my breath, but my daughters choose that moment to sneak and snuggle. Three little bodies crash into my legs, reaching wildly for any part of me to hug as we all tumble to the ground next to the box. 

“Mom. You farted.” Liza exclaims in horror.

“Yeah. Ick.” Anya backs her up.

Tabitha reserves judgement as she scrambles to her feet. She pauses on her way out of the room. Her head tilts to the side and her eyes light up as she sees the box.

“Maybe it wasn’t mom.” She scampers over to pull back the lid. “But that’s not a puppy.”

Despite the smell, all three girls cluster around Pepper who offers them all soft coos of delight. His coos fade to whimpers of hunger as he gets used to three dark-haired creatures hovering over him as they fire off questions. 

“Where did you get him mom?”

“Did you and dad finally make us a brother?”

“Why do his ears look like that?”

“Yeah. I want pointy ears.”

“Can I hold him?”

My voice finally breaks through the chaos, “Sure. You can hold him. If you want to change him.”

Their little voices stop as they all stare at me in horror. “Ew, mom. That’s your job.”

I look to Gill for support, but he disappeared during the chaos. I sigh.

“Okay, hon, we did still have a diaper bag from when Tabitha was still potty training. And you’ll be glad to know that we still have some supplies in here.”

He offers me the slightly dusty bag and I stare at him intently until he slings it over his own shoulder. “I guess I can help the little guy out.” He leans into the box to claim the tiny bundle of stinky joy.

With a glance at the girls, he carries the little guy into the guest room and closes the door to a chorus of complaints.

“Come on, girls. Daddy is going to help Pepper while we see if we have anything he can eat.”

“Hey, what about me. I’m hungry, too.” Anya whines.

“I know exactly what to make for my girls,” I inform them, “Blueberry pancakes.”

“With whipped cream,” they add in chorus.

“I couldn’t forget the whipped cream.” I laugh as we troop down the stores. 

As if the Christmas Spirit foretold my needs, I find a container of formula  and a clean bottle that my sister forgot on her last visit and the formula is still good. I quickly add some filtered water. The girls mug me for the chance to shake the bottle. By the time Gill comes downstairs with our guest, little elf lungs are helping proclaim his hunger and three little girls are begging to be the one to feed him. 

“Come on, little helpers,” Gill sits down in the middle of the couch and the girls crowd around him as he uses the bottle as a plug to stem the flow of aggravated noises.

Soon the air is filled with the sounds of admiring girls, contented sucking, and me humming as I rustle up pancakes for my crew. My husband seems content in all the chaos, especially when I reward him with chocolate chip pancakes with peanut butter sauce instead of syrup. After fortifying ourselves with breakfast, I call some friends to see if anyone has some baby items we can borrow. Luckily, most of them are bigger hoarders than me, so Pepper will be living in style for the duration of his stay.

Over the next week, we all become attached to Pepper. Gill and the girls treat him like an exotic pet. I catch them trying to teach him tricks every time I turn around. The girls even try to bribe him with chunks of candy cane even after I explain why they shouldn’t. A threat to disappear all of the refreshing peppermint treats finally convinces them to listen.

Christmas Eve brings snow, anticipation of gifts to come, and bittersweet emotions about Pepper returning home. I decide to succeed where generations of children have failed and stay up to confront jolly old Saint Nicholas. Clearly, Pepper’s mother doesn’t have what it takes to care for him. With the right haircut, he could stay under my watchful care a little longer.

As the rest of my family snuggles down in their beds, no doubt dreaming of Christmas Day cinnamon rolls instead of sugarplums, I settle into my recliner with Pepper’s borrowed bassinet close by my side. I open the latest thriller in my ever growing to be read pile and step into the story. Though the heart-pounding action should keep me awake and anxious, the soft, steady breathing of my elf baby comforts and calms me.

When I wake from my unplanned nap, my eyes instantly go to the bassinet. Empty. Yet his sweet peppermint aroma still lingers in the air. A tear rolls down my cheek. When I reach up to wipe it away, paper rustles against my cheek.

“You have been a good human auntie to baby Pepper. Just more proof why you were always on the nice list. I know all your arguments for letting him stay with you. The only one that matters is how much your family loves him, but his North Pole family loves him just as much. I promise to let you know how he is doing and I know his mom will want to bring him to see you when she is herself again. Merry Christmas. Enjoy your bonus gift.”

Under the letter, a neatly wrapped package warms my lap. I open it slowly to unveil a sweater with “Elf Auntie” carefully woven into a pattern of snowflakes and candy canes. I pull it over my head and find that it smells of gingerbread and peppermint. I admire the packages of varying sizes  under the tree as I wait for the rest of my family to join me. Soon they begin tumbling downstairs with wide eyes.

“Pepper.” The girls cry, rushing to the bassinet instead of the tree.

“He went home with Santa.” I bite my lip, worrying about their reaction to this news though I told them from the beginning that when the gifts arrived, Pepper would return to his home.

“Lucky,” Tabitha says.

“Yeah. Why couldn’t we go with him to the North Pole?” Anya adds.

“Maybe Santa will let us come visit Pepper,” Liza eyes the piles of presents as she speaks. “Let’s see what he brought us and then we can ask him about Pepper in our thank you notes.”

Soon wrapping paper flying through the air distracts us from the absence of elven cuteness, but it also reminds us of what a magical place he has moved on to. Besides, maybe Santa will let us come visit him at the North Pole.

~~

Happy Friday! Happy Holidays! Are you prepped? Are you ready? Do you have your own stinky little elves to help you finish up those last minute cookies? I hope so.