The snow fell hard on the little street, as a naïve realist would say, but for a physicist and existentialist such as Eddward Marion Peterman, this was just a blizzard in many. He carried the small package up the sidewalk and into the dark and dimly lit park. His slender frame lingered with him, even into adulthood (almost an adult, he had to remind himself). His black beanie hid the disgusting and colorful secret he carried since he was a toddler quite well. All but small tufts of blond hair stuck out from the cap. His face was as clean shaven as any boy with OCD could have and since he was afraid of needles, he was remarkably free of piercings, unlike some of the cul-de-sac. His wolf-blue eyes penetrated the cold white dust some called snow. His pale anemic palm faced downward and he brought it over his eyes. "Oh here you are!" With a smile he handed the wrapped over to the figure emerging from wood. Their scarf was thin and looked like it was from a thrift store. Their shoes were worn down, but still wearable. The cigarettes and gloves perfected the vision of a hobo from a trash bin. "Thanks…" "I wish you were happier. You know like when we were younger." They nodded and gave Eddward, known as Edd by his friends, a hug as tight as the moon to the Earth. So close and gravitated, yet distanced in fear of destroying the other. All he could do was pat his friend's back. "Its okay, buddy … Its okay."
Tomorrow morning was Christmas Day and the boy covered in blankets was overly excited for Santa's visit. Even after everyone said Santa doesn't exist, he still believed. He'd prove them wrong! Treats set out and presents for his family strewn by the wilting tree in the living room. This was magical. This was how he lived: fantastical. Not even his anemic best friend could bring him round to reality. Idealism was much easier for him to grasp, especially with his strong barrel-chested body. One would not think him an artist until he wore earrings and got his first tattoo ("it's a dragon, Eddy!"). His writing actually brought him a publisher from the big city. The snow outside looked amazing. Running his ringed hands through his thick red hair (he gave up on buzz cuts when they began to give him an itch), Edmund Taylor McLane smiled and opened his window, letting the snow fall into his room and flutter around for only a few seconds. The best few seconds of his day so far.
A short stout boy, no bigger than 5'7", just like his brother, stalked the cold night and scowled at the harsh breeze. Stupid parents won't let him get a car after someone backed into him, even before he could get in to move the car. "Kevin's an asshole…" He kicked a hillock of snow, sending bits of light snow into the air. His midnight blue hair was well hidden under the black cap he wore. His mom made him wear one since it was a cold snowy day. As much as he wishes he didn't, he despised his parents. The way they treated him was as if he was a child and not a human being with a car (or what used to be a car) and a life. Of course, Kevin's rich dad bought him anything and Kevin, being the jock he was, rubbed it in Eddy's poor face. Eddy (not short for anything except height) Skipper Grey's dad was a used car salesman. This didn't pay well, but it paid for education and home and food. In fact, that was one of the reasons Eddy's bro was kicked out of the house (besides his obvious delinquency and drug abuse). Out of all the kids in the neighborhood, Eddy had the worse. Short, poor, abused, mistreated. No wonder he had a… "What does Double D call it?" He sat down in the snow and thought it out. Nothing came to mind. All he could remember was that it had something to do with that short French guy. "I'm not French!" Of course he wasn't really mad. This was just a defense against the kids. He knows it barely works and only gets others mad, but… "I've got nothing else."
Edd paced the floor of his room. "Nothing to be done." His copy of Godot laid open and precariously on the edge of the desk. His parents sent him the copy (his once a year present) to show they still remember him. Then a distant grated voice spoke out. "What do you mean?" He looked at his blue haired secret friend. "It's a quote from-" "But why are you saying it?" They kicked off their shoes and Edd rushed to pick them up and put them in the designated Japanese style shoebox. "Be careful. This is my room, Marie." She looked down and pouted. "Sorry… Living in a trailer-" "Trust me… I know. But just remember it is my home." He gave her a small tousle of the hair and she smiled, but turned away. He looked outside. A perfect snowstorm. "We should get you back to the trailer park." She stood and looked at him with a lust for warmth. "Can't I just stay here for Christmas?" He blushed. This would be a step but… then again he never had someone want to spend Christmas with him in a while. "What about your clothes for tomorrow?" "I can borrow your mom's or dad's, right?" That was what worried him. They would be furious if someone wore their clothes. But that was better than her stealing his clothes and never giving it back. Marie was the same size it seemed to wear Edd's mom's clothes anyway. "Yea you can wear my mom's clothes… But her shoes probably won't fit you." "I already have shoes anyway." She referred to those old ratty canvas sneakers. "Nah… You need a fresh pair." Reluctantly he gave her his new shoes that he didn't want. "Nothing to be done."
Ed decided finally to venture out into the cold, frozen suburban tundra. He NEED knew paint anyway for his walls. His mom disapproved, but dad was for it. Ed's dad worked as an artist himself: an architect. He loved his son's enthusiasm for the arts. In fact, he supported Ed's play, which was turned down for another play in the Screenplay Contest. The girl who won had a screenplay that was full of puppies and made no real artistic sense except to be cute, which was what won over the judges, who were mostly post-menopausal or now menopausal ladies. At least he was recognized. But Ed's mom disapproved of the hard work Ed put in to his work (which was the inverse of his schoolwork it seemed, this focus). In fact he was grounded for a month last month. Now he was free and able to go back out. He slipped on the fitted thermal, then his sweater (incidentally it was his friend Edd's but Edd was sick of his frequent sweaters), and finally the fitted jacket. He slipped on a cap and mittens to seal the deal and waltzed out. The pom-poms of his hat bounced playfully, as he strutted. Then, out of nowhere, a snowball, fitted with an ice chip in the center, struck the back of his head. He winced and looked behind him. "Kankers!" Even though they were near 18, two (why only two?) of the Kankers still chased him and Eddy and Edd. As he ran to Eddy's house, the sisters began their chase. Hiding was difficult for they had some sort of x-ray vision used only to find their suitors. But if he could reach Eddy's…
Eddy sat down and stirred his cocoa. The only reason they had this house was because his Grandpa Walt passed and left his dad loads of cash. In fact, that's what got him started on the greed. He saw money and wanted it. But now that he was older, jawbreakers weren't on his mind. Nor was cash. His dad had liquor stashed somewhere anyway. Maybe a few sips… There is a knock on his door. Sighing, Eddy gets up and answers. "Eddy, hide me!" "Ed?" But his question was answered. Kankers. "Ed! Why?!" "Just shut it!" He did and latched it. There was pounding. His head would have pounded but… "Eddy! What will we do?!" "Shut up! My parents are sleeping!" They both covered each others mouths. The pounding would stop eventually. Eventually. The Kankers were like bad headaches. They'd recede once you ignore them. He just took Ed and led him to the garage. The door was busted anyway so his dad turned it into a rec room, part crash room. Fortunately for Eddy, the fridge was beer-filled and his dad forgets about the lock. Eddy loves the drink, but Ed barely touches it. "Any soda?" "No… water though." "I'll take that…" Eddy shot a look that said 'wimp' but it was just a reaction. He didn't mean it. He opened Ed's water and handed it to him. Ed took it and winced. Eddy then looked down to the floor. "Sorry Ed." "Not your fault Eddy." Then Ed glanced at the beer and showed a second of disgust then he smiled again and crashed on the sofa. Eddy crashed too, beer in hand, tear almost alive in his lid. Christmas day was soon anyway.