Why this stuck in my head, I have no idea... but to get rid of it, I had to write something.
Redneck Christmas
"Jake, you're going to knock the damn tree down onto the damn table, and then break your damn neck!" Helen yelled from where she was leaning against the archway to the kitchen. She watched as he stood on one of the kitchen chairs, leaning precariously forward, with one hand on the side of the double-wide, and the other clutching the angel he was trying to put on top of the tree. He wavered for a moment, distracted by Helen's yelling, and then got his balance back. "SHUT UP WOMAN!" he bawled, "CAN'T YOU SEE I'M TRYING FIX THE DAMN TREE?" He managed to get the base of the angel on the top branch, and was trying to wedge it down when the door slammed open against the wall, shaking the whole place. "Gahhhh!" Jake yelled, as the angel fell out of his fingers and landed on the floor.
Daria watched as her father climbed down from the chair, a small smile on her deep red lips. "What'cha doing Ma?" she said as she shut the door, and headed for the kitchen, squeezing her way between Helen and the edge of the doorway. It was a tight squeeze; Helen had gotten pretty hefty the last few years after Martin was born. "Geez Ma, make some room." Daria finally made it to the kitchen, and immediately headed for the refrigerator and grabbed a beer. She sat down at the table, adjusting her tube top and tugging the hem down on her 'Daisy Dukes'. She opened her drink, and heard her father in the other room yell. "DARIA! Bring me one'a them!" Daria sighed, and got up again. She handed another beer to her mother, who waddled over to Jake and set it on the end table next to the Dale Earnhardt Memorial Daytona Plate. Jake grabbed it up, popped the top, and sucked half of it down. He belched, and set the can down. "Feel better, Daddy?" Daria asked.
"If'n I can get that damn angel up there, it'd be better." Jake looked at Daria for a moment, his eyes lingering on the shorts she was wearing. "How do you bowl in those? I thought you said you was goin' to the bowling alley?"
"I did, Daddy. I sat with Janey and Brit, and watched people bowl." Daria said, and gave her father her brightest smile. What he didn't know is that Trent, the mechanic down at Sonny's had been giving her bowling lessons for almost a month now; she thought of him bending over behind her, breathing gently in her ear and her smile widened. "I 'membered that you and Ma were puttin' the tree up t'day, and wanted to help." She walked over to the box of ornaments, and pulled one out. She remembered making this one back in third grade, before they had to move again. She dangled the old Pabst beer can in front of her by the ribbon that was taped onto it. "I'm gonna hang this one!"
She walked over toward the tree, and then stretched waaaayyyy up, hanging the ribbon over a branch near the top of the tree. She held herself up on her tiptoes for a moment, and then slowly let herself down. "How's it look, Daddy?"
"Good, Honey. Better go help your Ma now. I c'n get the rest." Jake suddenly felt warm, and the most outrageous thoughts were starting to form in his mind. He tore his eyes away from his oldest daughter, and grabbed his beer again. He fumbled the can, and then in one gulp, emptied it. "G'on now."
Daria grinned to herself, and made her way back to the kitchen.
A few hours later, Jake was sitting at the kitchen table, watching as Helen worked her way from the table to the stove and back to the table, bringing the stew. She could cook, he'd give her that, but boy, she had really packed on the pounds the last few years. He remembered when they used to go stepping at the Grange Hall, and the Kiwanis dances they used to go to when they were younger. He thought back for a moment and tried to recall where he had first met her.
