Disclaimer haiku:
Jingle bells, Mattel
Smells - I mean, owns Max Steel (so
Please don't sue me, 'kay?)
Note: There are no new ideas, it's said, and this one owes a debt to the Wings episode "Insanity Claus", the Shel Silverstein poem "Merry...", and my partners-in-crime on the Max 'boards. I tried to be inclusive, but Chriskwanzukkah is a difficult holiday to work into a fic, so we're stuck with just Christmas. Sorry. :)
HOW THE BARKOWSKIS STOLE CHRISTMAS
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"Hallelujah Noel, be it Heaven or Hell
The Christmas we get we deserve."
- Emerson, Lake, and Palmer
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It was the night before Christmas - well, actually, it was the late afternoon - and all through Del Oro Bay, the temperature was seventy-two degrees Fahrenheit and sunny. Most people were staging stubborn attempts at traditional wintertime, but the strings of lights and the spray-on snow weren't changing the obvious. SoCal was in no danger of a white Christmas this year.
Josh, Kat, and Berto had strung up lights on the beach house, the palm trees in the yard, and the plastic tree inside, and since things there were as festive as they were gonna get, they had adjourned for Josh's dad's house.
Jefferson Smith lived in the hills of Del Oro, before the mountains proper, in a ritzier neighborhood than the beach bum beachfront his son occupied. His house was too small to be a mansion, but only just barely: a big Spanish-style hacienda with lots of adobe and red tile, in a environmentally sound xeroscaped yard. There was a pool out back and a basketball goal in the driveway.
Jeff had not only strewn Christmas lights across both floors of the house, he'd also opted for a cluster of extremely festive light-bedecked wireframe deer.
"Home for the holidays," Josh said cheerfully. He was pleased to be home because he never got to be there anymore, being primarily occupied by saving the world.
"Not for another sixteen hours," Berto said before he could stop himself. He was on a flight to Bogota that left in a few hours, and he had already shipped home the presents for his mamá, papá, y cinco hermanas (Inéz, Ana, Marisol, Lucia, and Juliana, in order of domineering). Josh and Kat had paid for his ticket, so he was feeling a bit guilty about feeling a lot anxious to get on the road.
"I'm about to OD on holiday cheer," Kat said as Josh rang the doorbell, looking at the deer and at Jeff's nearest neighbor, who had one-upped the Smith residence by setting up a futilely blowing snow machine on the lawn. She was feeling neither happy nor anxious, since her primary Christmas emotion was "bah, humbug".
Jeff opened the door with a hearty, "Merry Christmas!" and a bright red sweater with a dark green tree on the front.
"Merry Christmas!" Josh and Berto replied with equal enthusiasm. Kat mumbled it.
Jeff stood back and ushered them all inside, through the foyer and the formal living room to the lived-in family room. A massive, very alive tree had been - tastefully - crammed full of ornaments, lights, and tinsel, and underneath it were - tastefully - crammed presents which had been - tastefully - wrapped. Four stockings had been hung with care by the chimneyless propane fireplace: one for Jeff, and one for each of the three Team Steel members.
"Definitely overdosing," Kat said with a dubious glance at the stockings.
"It looks great, Dad," Josh said. "Don't pay any attention to the Grinch over there."
Kat gave him a death glare which was not seasonally appropriate, except maybe to a grinch.
"Dinner will be delivered any minute," Jeff said, ignoring the name-calling and death glares with the practiced ease of a seasoned CEO.
Hopeful, Josh asked, "Pizza?"
"Would it be Christmas without the pizza?" Jeff countered. (This is the kind of holiday meal you get in a household of two guys and no live-in cook.) "In the meantime, I have some food in the kitchen -"
"I'll go get it," Berto said quickly, because he a) felt guilty and b) really liked food. With visions of dancing sugar plums, he went.
Still looking at the stockings with a faintly nauseous expression, Kat said, "I think I'll, ah, hit the powder room, if that's okay?"
"Down the hall to the right," Jeff instructed, tolerant and a little amused. "Next to the stairs."
She left.
Josh was kneeling and poking at the presents under the tree. Now he turned to his dad and grinned like a little boy on, well, Christmas. "Do I still get to open one early?"
Outside, a van pulled up to the curb and two people got out.
"Remember, stick to the plan," one hissed at the other.
"I liked it better when you weren't talking," the other grumbled, but obediently went around to the side of the house where the kitchen was.
Kat did not go into the bathroom. She went up the stairs instead, because she felt like being nosy and sneaky. She figured that was all right because she was a spy. Also, she wanted to stay away from the holly jolly family room for a while.
It was a nice house, but a pretty boring one. Josh's old bedroom was a memorial to trophies and blue ribbons and decade-old sports posters. There was an office, a bathroom, a library, a guest room, a completely empty room, and Jeff's bedroom, which held a bed, a dresser, and a nightstand with a phone, lamp, and alarm clock - and nothing else. It did have an awesome view of the backyard, including the pool, from its balcony.
The big sliding glass doors to the balcony had been left open and an almost chilly little breeze blew through. The afternoon was starting to turn into twilight.
Kat sighed and gave up. She decided to poke around in Josh's room for potential blackmail before going back downstairs.
Berto was ecstatic. There were plates of cookies - gingerbread, chocolate, peanut butter, sugar, with sprinkles, with M&M's, with icing - and there were the makings for hot chocolate - including little marshmallows! - and big bowls of popcorn, and nachos with salsa con queso (which made perfect sense in a guy-run household), and the promise of pizza.
Mamá Martinez would serve up more food, but this was sufficiently junky for the time being.
He claimed one of the popcorn bowls as his own and was in the middle of finding butter for it when there was a knock on the door leading outside. "Pizza!" a muffled voice called, and when Berto went to the door to check, sure enough, there was a delivery man standing outside, pizza boxes in one hand and Santa hat on his head. The delivery guy was watching the neighbors' snow machine and had his back to the door.
"Happy holidays," Berto said, opening the door.
The delivery guy turned around. His other hand was full of an electronic glove, one that snaked up his arm and connected to a power source strapped to his torso. A white foam brace was around his neck. And the face above that neck did not belong to a pizza delivery guy. Or Santa Claus, for that matter.
The glowing, sparking index finger of the glove was shoved into Berto's face. "Ho ho ho," the impostor said. "No sudden moves."
"This is nice," Jeff said, relaxing in one of the family room chairs.
"Yeah, almost." Josh had settled on a present and was sitting crosslegged on the floor, turning it around in his hands. "Sorry about Kat. I didn't know Santa brought her a bad attitude."
Jeff waved it off. "Last year she punched someone for singing 'Deck the Halls' in the office, so I'd say she's mellowed out."
Josh was about to say something else when all the lights surged and dimmed. "Brownout," he noted - a common hazard of energy-strapped California during peak holiday extravaganza time, or any time, really.
This, of course, was something different.
Kat noticed the brownout too and decided to go back downstairs. She was standing at the head of the stairs, right in the middle - exposed in spy parlance - when things got more exciting.
Berto glanced around and saw the closest thing to a weapon he had: the plate of cookies. It was heavy and ceramic and could probably do some damage. He hated to waste food, but hey, this was an emergency. So when the lights dimmed, he made a grab for it. He managed to get his hand on the plate and swung it up -
Zap! The plate went crashing to the floor and the cookies - now very burnt - scattered everywhere.
"No sudden moves," Woody Barkowski said, exasperated. "What the heck do you think that means?"
The lights flared and dimmed again. Then there arose such a clatter: a crash from the kitchen, a boom as the door was blown inward, and a sizzling, popping electric noise that filled the house.
"What -" both Jeff and Josh said, Josh rising instinctively to defend his family and home.
Blue-tinted lighting came from the direction of the hallway and struck the floor at Josh's feet. He jumped back. Jeff put a hand on his arm to restrain him.
Floating into the family room, with all the majestic flair of a catsuited, one-headed Mouse King, came a truly dangerous enemy - one who was supposed to be safely locked away behind bars. She lowered herself to the floor with a graceful flick of electricity.
"Many happy returns," purred Annabelle Barkowski, aka Electrix.
Woody marched Berto into the family room with a gloved finger pointed at the back of his head. Berto had his arms raised in surrender and a defeated look on his face. He took a seat on the floor next to Jeff and Josh, who were being guarded by the other Barkowski.
"Is this everyone?" Electrix demanded of Jeff. "And tell the truth, or your guest will not be having a feliz Navidad." She spread her fingers in Berto's direction; sparks danced between them.
"There's no need for that," Jeff said loudly. "We're the only ones here - just my son, his friend, and myself."
He was pitching his voice for Kat to hear, so she could get out of the house or hide. She heard, and instead of standing exposed on the stairs, chose to retreat to the master bedroom. She silently shut the door behind her and stood for a second, weighing her options.
"That's very nice," Electrix said, "but we have paranoia issues. Woody! Go check upstairs for extra visitors."
Woody looked disappointed. "But climbing stairs hurts my neck -"
"Just go," she snapped. He heaved a grumbling sigh and went.
Woody paused to sweep each room, even the closets. His last stop was the master bedroom. He eased the door open and randomly aimed his glove at all four corners of the room. It was empty. He walked over to the closed glass door and opened it.
The balcony was clear too, although he saw a sprinkling of red dust on the railing. He looked up at the roof; no tiles were dislodged.
He went back downstairs. "All clear!" he reported to Electrix.
Kat peeked back over the edge of the roof and climbed down to the balcony again, dusting her hands off. Those Spanish-style tiles had ruined her jeans, but this was so awesomely Die Hard, she didn't care.
"What do you want?" Jeff asked.
Electrix touched one of the glass ornaments on the tree and it melted. "I want N-Tek to pay. Revenge, money, power... The usual."
"So now we've got two N-Tek hostages - and you, whoever you are," Woody added, looking at Berto. "Jefferson Smith and Josh McGrath. They'll pay to get you back!"
His little sister stamped her foot angrily, sending off a shower of sparks. "Woody! I'm talking! Not you! Stick to the plan!"
"Fine," he said. Then he scratched his head and winced; the movement jarred his neck. "Um, Annabelle? What was the plan again -?"
Electrix made a disgusted noise. "Just go play with the elves, Woody."
Woody frowned, but then shrugged and went to poke around the home entertainment system.
"I've already contacted N-Tek with our ransom demands," Electrix said, trying to recover her supervillainess cool. "I've made it clear that my patience will wear awfully thin by midnight."
At the thought of being captive until midnight, Berto groaned.
"Don't worry, bro," Josh said quietly. "You'll be home for Christmas."
"If only in my dreams," Berto muttered.
"There's one problem with your plan," Jeff pointed out calmly. "We don't negotiate with terrorists - even when it's personal."
A predatory smile slid across Electrix's face. "So they'll send your little troubleshooter, Max Steel, instead. Believe me, a rematch is even better than a few million dollars."
"Don't count on it," Jeff said, just as calmly.
Josh, who was also Max Steel, coughed uncomfortably.
Berto buried his face in his hands.
Kat let herself into the garage. There was Jeff's black sedan, a mountain bike, an old motorcycle, and some lawn equipment. Not anything to take into a fight with a living lightning bolt. Still, she didn't want to go back inside the house unarmed.
Her eyes fell on something tucked away next to the lawn mower. She stepped closer and hefted it. Yup - this would work.
"Now we're talking," she said.
Woody had put a Christmas CD on, but he didn't look happy about the songs. "Do you have 'Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer'?" he asked Jeff.
"No," Jeff said.
"Darn. That's my favorite."
"Just stop talking," Electrix told her brother. "You're a lot more trouble than I remember. I should've left you in the psych ward."
Woody gingerly straightened his neck brace, but glared at her. "I don't think you should be talking like that, Annabelle. You're the reason we got busted in France."
Electricity crackled and flared around Annabelle. Some of the lightbulbs on the tree popped in a sympathetic shower of colored glass. "Stop talking," she snarled through clenched teeth, almost spitting sparks.
"Okay, okay. And they say I can't take criticism." Woody raised a hand in surrender and went back to his important quest to find a better song than "Blue Christmas".
Inaudible to those without nanoprobe-enhanced hearing, Berto whispered, "Electrix doesn't generate electricity. She just stores it. We can power her down."
Josh gave him a glance that meant, How?
Berto's eyes narrowed behind his glasses. "The fast way. Like a toaster in the bathtub."
Kat crept to the poolside and set down the coil of rubber garden hose next to the outdoor faucet. She tightened the nozzle and screwed the hose onto the faucet head, then turned the water on as far as it would go. The hose inflated with water pressure and some leaked out from the nozzle. But it all looked totally normal - a puddle of water, next to a hose, next to a pool.
She had mostly run out of ideas, so she pressed her back into the warm adobe wall and thought long and hard about which side of the house to approach. Front door... or the kitchen?
Electrix levitated on a column of electricity to toy with the gold-foil star on the top of the tree. "You could even say it glows," she said mockingly, flicking it. "Isn't this a wonderfully quaint holiday? And so full of energy. No one will notice if someone sucks a few million volts away."
"That reminds me - I'm hungry," Woody announced. "McGrath! Come on. We're going to the kitchen."
Josh glanced around and stood up. He was trying his best to look uncertain and apprehensive, but he was actually ecstatic. Electrix could kill him with a single bolt, Josh or Max. But he could definitely take on Woody sans Max powers. Woody was crazy, not too bright, and a klutz besides.
"Sure, okay," Josh said. He walked to the kitchen in front of Woody, hands raised. Woody stopped him next to the remaining plates of cookies.
"All right," Woody said, lowering his gloved arm and looking around wildly. "Get out of here, quick, before Annabelle notices."
"Kitchen," Kat said to herself. Decision made, she ran in a half-crouch along the wall, ducking even lower at the windows.
Josh had been tensing for a quick-and-dirty fistfight. Now he stared, dumbfounded, at Woody. "Huh?"
Woody glanced over his shoulder at the family room. "You've gotta go. She'll figure it out if this takes too long."
"Woody, not that anyone would call you 'sane', but -"
"I don't want to be here," Woody hissed. "I don't. I'm crazy, yeah, I get it. But my docs changed my meds and I'm in therapy and it's really working this time, okay? I'm with the program now. Then Annabelle breaks me out and tells me we're going to do this - this. And what can I do to stop her? I don't have superpowers! So you've got to go and find Max Steel, because he does."
That sounded good to Josh. Anything that got him out of the house sounded good. But it didn't answer another question: "Why me?"
Woody looked at his feet, a little embarrassed. "Well... because you were cool, back on the circuit. I sucked, and I was a jerk, but you treated me like a friend. And I appreciate that, now that I can see straight. Plus, you know Max. Right?"
"Like a brother," Josh said. "And y'know, you didn't suck. You were just... unlucky."
Now Woody looked embarrassed and pleased all at once.
"What's taking so long?" Electrix called out from the family room, irritated.
"Go!" Woody pushed Josh out the kitchen door.
Kat had snuck, stealthily, to the kitchen door. She was flat against the wall, reaching out to open it - when it opened itself and Josh came stumbling out.
Recovering quickly, she grabbed his shirt and pulled him over. "It's about time," Kat said. "Escape?"
Josh glanced at the door, which had closed itself too. "Kind of."
They ran for the far edge of the lawn. "Not that I don't enjoy the instant Die Hard 2, but... Care to explain?"
He shrugged. "I don't think Woody's heart is in this."
Woody strolled back into the living room, munching on a cookie and carrying others in his ungloved hand. "Done."
Electrix pointed her index finger at the gold-foil star and blasted it into cindery oblivion. "He's gone?"
"Yup," Woody said, crunching. "He believed every word. What a sucker! Want some gingerbread?"
"Too light on amperage," his sister said, wrinkling her nose. "You told him to fetch Steel?"
Jeff and Berto exchanged uneasy glances. This didn't sound good. That, and their super-powered protector was now out of sight should any trouble arise inside.
Woody bit into another cookie. "ASAP. And you know how reliable Josh McGrath is."
Josh and Kat had found a sufficiently secluded spot for him to transform, a task made easier by the onset of full darkness. Now Max Steel was filling her in on what Electrix and Woody had said. "So they're expecting to see me - eventually - but not anytime soon," he finished.
"The element of surprise is always nice," Kat observed drily. "Speaking of. I found a hose. It's by the pool."
"Berto had the same idea," Max said. He cracked his knuckles "He thinks we can power her down - like a toaster in the bathtub."
"Or a lightbulb in the eggnog."
"Either one. Now we just have to figure out how to get Electrix out there."
They silently pondered that problem for a moment. Then they got the same idea at the same time and traded sly smiles.
"Are you dreaming of a white Christmas?" Kat asked.
Max said, "Oh yeah."
Woody knelt behind Jeff and ripped a length of duct tape from the roll. "Hold still," he ordered. Jeff held still while Woody bound his wrists behind his back. Berto was already bound, with a strip of tape over his mouth for good measure. Jeff was left without a gag.
"Low-tech, but effective," Woody said, dusting off his hands as he stood. Then he winced and put a hand to his neck again.
"Don't be a wuss," Electrix said from a few feet away, rolling her eyes. "It's just whiplash."
"It still hurts," Woody said plaintively. "You should've let me go to a doctor before we came here."
Electrix said, with some passion, "Forget it. We don't need any help, Woody. We're in charge. We can do everything. With my brains and your - help - anything is possible."
"Like getting even with Max Steel," Jeff said, partly to interrupt her and partly because he wanted to know. "This was never about money, was it? You're waiting for Max to rescue us. Then you're going to destroy him."
"No!" Woody cut in, waving the duct tape around. "I remember the plan now! She's going to fight him. Then I'll finish it. Ha!"
"And then we'll burn down the house with our little presents here still inside. Don't forget that." Electrix crouched in front of Jeff, balancing on her spiked black heels. Her eyes glowed blue-white - with power, and more than a little madness. She smiled at the horrified look on his face. "Oh yes. All I want for Christmas is revenge."
Max waited until Kat flashed a thumbs-up from her position, then moved into place himself. They were ready, although it had been one of the trickiest set-ups either had ever done, just because of proximity to their adversary. But it didn't matter now.
All they needed was Electrix - out of the house, away from Jeff and Berto, and conveniently near a North Pole-sized body of water.
"Let it snow," Kat said, a little more cheerfully than might have been expected, and flipped the switch on the snow machine. Artificial flakes began falling from the balcony in a noisy rumble of machinery. Once she was sure it was working, she snuck inside the bedroom and flattened herself against the wall next to the door.
"Uh, Annabelle -?" Woody said, staring down the hall and looking confused. (That was a fairly common expression for him.)
"Is he here?" Electrix asked. She turned away from Jeff.
Woody tugged at his neck brace, still staring confusedly. "Maybe. I dunno. It's snowing outside."
Electrix turned a fanged smile on Jeff and Berto. "That sounds like our boy. And early! How considerate. We'll have just enough time to light the Yule log before bedtime."
She slapped a piece of duct tape over Jeff's mouth, patted his cheek with more viciousness than affection, and strode off to battle. Woody was half a beat behind her, saying, "But I get to finish it, Annie. Don't forget -"
When Woody and Electrix burst from the house in a showy, spark-laden entrance onto the battlefield, Max had put the pool between himself and them.
There were two reasons for that. One, he was betting that Electrix wouldn't want to directly cross a large, watery obstacle to get at him. That might buy some extra time. A few seconds, if he was really lucky. Two, he was closer to the garden hose than they were.
Another reason (one he wouldn't admit to) was that it allowed him to look as heroic as possible: calmly waiting for danger in a confident pose.
"AHA! At last, we meet again, Max Steel!" Woody shouted, waving his arms like a madman, which was about right. Thunder rumbled overhead and Max realized the electronic glove on the man's arm was a new version of the televolt; this one wasn't tethered to heavy machinery, so presumably it had less of a kick. But anything that could call down lightning was still bad news.
"You sound like an idiot," Electrix told him. "I'll do this. " She pitched her voice louder and added a mocking tone for good measure: "Happy holidays, Maxy. Have you been a good boy?"
So there was going to be banter before the fight. That was fine with Max - it gave him another chance to play hero. He was really good at banter. "Better than you, Annabelle. Looks like you're gonna get a lump of coal again."
She laughed. "That's right! From our roasted chestnuts inside."
Max wasn't sure what she was talking about, but it was undoubtably bad, so it didn't matter what he said, as long as he disagreed. "Not if I have anything to say about it," Max declared firmly. Quite heroically, too.
"You don't," Electrix informed him. Then she and Woody opened fire.
Kat bounded down the stairs and into the family room. "All tied up and nowhere to go?" she quipped to Jeff and Berto. They didn't mind the joke because she had a pocketknife, and she used it to slice through the tape right away.
"We've got to help Max," Berto said.
"We've got to get the cops here," Kat said, then added to Jeff, "And you out of danger."
"I can take care of myself," Jeff said, but nicely; he knew she was trying to take care of him. He pulled a cell phone from his pants pocket and flipped it open. He punched a fast series of numbers into the phone and held it to his ear. "But first, I need to make a call."
Max was thinking, I could use a little help. Woody was hopelessly off-target with his blasts, but Electrix was dangerously close. They were forcing him to dance all over the pool area to avoid getting hit.
Electrix laughed. She liked a good hunt. "I can do this all night!" she called out.
"Stand still!" Woody yelled, irritated. Max ducked his shot with ease and charged. He tackled Woody with enough force to make an NFL player holly-green with jealousy.
Woody went down hard - onto the landscape, not the cement. But he landed on the slowly growing snowdrift from the machine and the televolt started shorting out in spectacular fashion. "Ahhhh!" he cried. He tore it off immediately, tossing it onto the concrete. It shattered... leaving him with no weapon.
"Wonderful," Electrix said, her good mood ruined. "I can't believe you, Woody! Do you know how long it took to make that?"
"Ow," was Woody's response, in a painful moan. It looked like his neck hurt along with his arm. It looked like he was done for the night.
Max started to edge towards the garden hose, which by this point had leaked a considerable amount of water onto the cement.
"I guess," Electrix mock-sighed, lightning dancing from her spread fingers, "I'll just have to do this myself!"
She tossed a sizable bolt at him just as he made a dive for the hose.
Max would have been okay - would've grabbed the hose, ducked the blast, come up in perfect stance to fire back. Except he miscalculated.
He slipped on the wet concrete.
He didn't fall, but he did stumble. The blast caught his heels and sent him flying. Max landed on his back some distance away, dazed and fighting off nanoprobe failure. He was out of the fight.
Electrix let out a sharp bark of a laugh. "So much for that!" she cried, triumphant. She touched down - carefully avoiding any wet ground - and stood over Max, the better to crow. "This really is the best Christmas ever. Okay, Woody. Get over here and finish this -"
"I said I would," Woody said behind her. He sounded uncharacteristically solemn.
She looked over her shoulder and saw her brother standing with the garden hose in his hand, finger on the nozzle. She was smart - she understood immediately. A ball of electricity sprang up in her right hand.
But Woody was smart too - at least in this situation. He had already started squeezing the nozzle before he said anything.
Water blasted into Electrix, and it mixed with her electric field about as well as water ever did. She let out a shriek that wailed into something more unearthly and piercing. She also lit up like the Rockefeller Center tree on steroids: electricity streamed out of her in wild, arcing bolts that struck the water, the house, the landscaping. The bolts started blue and built into a pure white - and then the white collapsed into every color a prism could throw out. The backyard of Jeff's house looked like Santa had dropped off the northern lights as a bonus present.
Max took the opportunity to get up and stagger away, just in case Woody wasn't done being unusually clever.
Kat, Berto, and Jeff came running out to the pool right as the fireworks reached their peak.
"Whoa," Berto said. Kat whistled appreciatively. Jeff was still on the phone, so he didn't say anything except, "Change that: one unfriendly."
Electrix collapsed to the wet cement and stayed down. She twitched a little bit. And she let off little sparks.
Max drew himself straight and prepared to confront the last standing Barkowski. Kat stepped out in front of Berto and Jeff, ready to have Max's back.
All Woody did, however, was drop the hose and close the distance between himself and his sister. He crouched next to her prone (twitching and sparking) body and said, "Annabelle, it was really great to spend the holidays with you. But we need a lot more time in therapy."
Electrix made a faint groaning noise.
"For real?" Max asked Woody.
Woody nodded. He looked tired. "I don't want to be crazy anymore. It's exhausting. Especially this time of the year."
There was a general murmuring of assent to that.
Max rejoined his friends and family. Jeff greeted him with, "The authorities will be here any minute. Woody will go back to the hospital, and Annabelle will be returned to the government research facility."
"Just in time," Berto said, checking his watch. "I need a ride to the airport."
"Yo," Kat said, volunteering herself now that there was no superhuman firefight to distract from the onset of joyeaux noël. They left.
Jeff and Max stood there for a minute, watching Woody sit patiently next to his unconscious sister while sirens drew near. Then Max said, "Soooo... Dad. Do I still get to open a present early?"
Berto made his flight and was home in Colombia with plenty of time to be fussed over and bossed around before the Martinez family went to Mass.
"Your collar is crooked!" Inéz scolded. She straightened it.
"You're so skinny - who's feeding you?" Ana demanded. She gave him an extra serving of flan.
Marisol exclaimed, "What have you done to your hair!" and went to get the scissors.
"Orange? With flowers? Terrible! We'll have to buy you new shirts," Lucia decided.
Juliana said, "And I'll bet you haven't been keeping up with your reading. How are you going to advance in your career if you don't stay current with the literature?"
"Listen to your sisters!" his mother ordered. "Why hasn't NASA asked you back, Roberto? I'll tell you why - because you don't take yourself seriously! Wasting your talent and genius on sports!"
His father ate the extra serving of flan.
Berto was happy.
Back in Del Oro, it was a nice, normal Christmas morning at the beach house. Josh and Kat opened their presents from Berto - bike helmets, top-of-the-line N-Tek stuff, that had been custom painted. Kat's was black with a neon blue fade. Josh's was silver with an abstract neon green pattern that, on closer inspection, looked an awful lot like circuitry. Josh gave Kat a Gibson twelve-string electric-acoustic guitar, which was more expensive than a plane ticket to Colombia, but not so much that it put a strain on his trust fund.
Kat was delighted: her current guitar was the beat-up acoustic she'd bought with money from a fenced car when she was fourteen. She had been half-planning to buy a new one herself, "eventually" - but her friend had beaten her to it.
She strummed the Gibson for a few minutes, trying to put it in tune, then grinned and said, "OK, your turn."
On the driveway was a midnight blue Ducati motorcycle, which cost way, way more than a plane ticket plus a guitar, but it was the first present she'd bought in nearly ten years and she didn't care. (Even the Grinch learned to love Christmas.)
"Showoff," Josh told her, but it lacked sting because he was also delighted. Then they spent the rest of the day trying out the motorcycle, much to peril of slow-moving Del Oro traffic.
On December 31, one of the orderlies brought Woody mail. It was a card and a present, and he didn't mind that the wrapping paper had been removed by the hospital to check for contraband; his meds were back full-force, he was in therapy again, and he was feeling pretty good.
He opened the card, which said: HAPPY NEW YEAR - STAY SANE! MAX & FRIENDS.
Then he looked at the gift. It was a CD of Christmas songs - all his favorites. "Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer," "Nuttin' For Christmas," "The Chipmunk Song"... and on and on. Twenty-five songs altogether! The best present ever!
Woody sent a thank-you note to N-Tek.
The other patients started sending hate mail shortly thereafter.
THE (SEASONALLY FESTIVE) END