Angela F. Ain't Got Jack On Deez Skills Yo
Ness cut his finger on the tape dispenser while maneuvering the tight corners of his present box, folding out the stiff triangles of the loose ends, a spot of red bled out through the manilla paper. He had to rip it off and throw it away, nursing his finger with spit and suction. Instead, he wrapped the present in a brown paper bag and drew black stars with a sharpie, getting a headache from the fumes. The sun was just waking up, Christmas morning, so he hurried to get his shoes on and slid on the frozen doormat dusted with snow.
Christmas mist was expanding out of chimney towers as he ran down the hill towards Onett, Christmas light bulbs igniting in the windows of the living rooms and make-shift kitchen Christmas areas that some families were forced to be content with. He passed the library and it crackled with the shifting of icicles, then through the muddy half-ice of the dirt road into town.
There was a Christmas tree army in front of city hall, and one in the Arcade's courtyard too, flashing persistently through heavy electrical programming. A man in his beaten black bathrobe smoked on his doorstep and glanced back at his house to make sure his kids weren't awake yet as Ness hurried by, holding the paper bag to his chest and breathing fog into it, feeling the heat of his breath thaw backwards from the brown bag and tingle on his numb face.
Through the woods between Onett and Twoson, half jogging, little snow dunes looking rested after last nights driven wind, and then into a sprint as the trees closed in around him. Though, abruptly he kicked into ice, then into air and with a crack his black hair penetrated ice and the water beneath jetted out over his face. The bag hit him in the chin and then rolled sideways into the rising puddle.
He grabbed his head and hissed, twisted to his side and curled up a little. Then, slowly on the cracked surface he sat up and looked around for the present, it was half submerged in the water, and as he gathered it up the soggy paper peeled away like sun burnt skin. Slowly, slowly, he tapped it, and it's broken body clashed around inside of the box, so he sat with it between his knees and hugged it grimly as the water filled his shoes.
He walked slowly through Burglin Park, the cold fabric of his watery socks making crass noise that amplified in the silent morning, passing by the pond behind Paula's house and knocking on the back door so only she would wake up. Her light slipped out the closed shade and she walked heavy footed down the stairs, opening the door's curtain first and then with a yawn unlocking the door, "Merry Christmas Ness,"
He looked ashamed, but handed her the box anyways, not feeling warm enough to explain. She pryed open the lid on the tiny white cardboard thing and pulled out the arm and head of a little porcelain bear. He looked only at her arm as she looked more carefully into the box.
Her fingers met his face, soft and heated, and drew his face up to see hers,
"Did you know that Jesus Christ is here?"
"What?"
Then she pointed at his chest and as he looked down at her finger, she kissed him on the nose.