Objective: I don't own anything.
Enjoy!
0000
The kid is throwing up again. She's crying and whining all while she has her head in the toilet. I don't even know what she is throwing up anymore. It's green and blue, and very slimy.
When she lies on the floor, I flush the toilet. The smell is terrible.
I pick her up off the floor and bring her to Jet's room where he is sleeping and drop her on the bed.
"What?" he questions, though he doesn't move. He's sick too; so is lunkhead.
The kid just curls up at the end of the bed like a puppy.
"Thought you might like some company, I'm going out."
Just because I am the ever-most kind person I check on the Lunkhead. He's sleeping too. He doesn't make sounds when he sleeps; even when sick.
The mutt sleeps curled up on his back. Neither of them wake up, and none care that I am in the doorway. Usually, he has something to say whenever I make my appearance in his presence.
This whole ship stinks. Sooner or later, somebody better wake up and clean up after themselves. I'm not at fault in this situation. I, unlike everyone else, have kept their immune system up and running.
I don't linger long; just put on my coat and gloves and wander down the street. It's Christmas Eve. I know that from being stuck here last year at this time. Only last year, we had a bounty, and we were able to eat a wonderful meal in a restaurant with a large Christmas tree with pinecones.
This year it's quiet. Our catch; nowhere to be seen, and everyone too sick to look. I don't even think he is worried about being caught on a night like this. They say miracles happen on this night, so he must think he will be getting one.
Unlikely; eventually.
So tonight, it's just me.
The lights aren't lit up either. A few candles glimmer in windows. Power must be out, or everything must be crap this year. It seems like this year was just one disaster after another. Money is practically none existent and food isn't anything to get excited over.
The only place that seems to be lit up is the bar, and everyone must know it because it is crowded. There is no one to get excited over either. I manage to get a seat at the bar. A "kind gentleman" offers me a seat with so much intention in his eyes it won't "break my heart" when he realizes he won't be getting anything.
The bartender down the way catches my eye. He finishes the conversation with another patron and comes my way.
"What can I get you?"
"Whatever you have on special," I reply glumly.
He gives me a wink and gets to work.
I light up a cigarette.
I know in my experience that ordering the special is never a good idea, but its Christmas so it might be something special.
Or come with enough vodka that it doesn't matter how 'special' it is.
My eyes scan the crowd. Not a cop in sight. I may feel down, but my instinct isn't slipping. I know to keep my guard up.
The man next to me wakes up to the beeping from his phone. He fishes it out of his pocket and looks at the screen. His eyes budge out of his head. He drops a lot of money onto the counter and flies out the door.
Another man takes his place. The man is older with white hair all over his head. His beard is longer than any beard I have ever seen.
He pushes the money to the other side of the bar and winks at me. "I guess drinks are on him tonight." He gives me a wink.
I exhale from my cigarette. "Whatever you say buddy."
He laughs a very hearty laugh. "Where's your holiday spirit? Have you been naughty this year?"
"Can't afford to be naughty," I shrug.
He gives another hearty laugh. "Then you must've been nice; from the looks of you, you look like a nice girl. I bet you are very kind and generous."
My eyes slant in his direction. "Listen, bud! Whatever you want, count me out. I'm just here because I'm tired of the smell of throw-up."
"Do you work at the hospital?"
"No."
The bartender brings back my drink with a candy cane in it. The content is green and red. I don't even want to know what's in it. It smells great though. I take a sip, and then another one. It's amazing. I set it down so I don't down it all too quickly. The minty taste wakes my senses and gives me a small cheerfulness I can't describe.
Must be the alcohol.
He orders the same thing I am drinking. I put out my cigarette. The bartender collects the money and walks away.
The man sighs. "This is the worst time of the year for children. A lot of children in the hospital are sick, and most children don't have a wrapped present under the tree."
"No kidding." I say dully. I don't care for children that much; not at all.
"It's hard to get presents to every child in one night, but the joy they get from that one tiny present on Christmas morning means everything in the world." He gives that hardy chuckle again.
"You must have a lot of money," I comment dully. I sip from my drink. Someone starts singing on the other side of the room. They carry no tune and don't remember any of the words of the song. They are making up the words right on the spot.
"Something like that," he says, "but holidays aren't all about the packages… I mean everyone wants a present, but the best present of all could be the one of caring for the ones you love."
I give a chuckle. "What if you don't have anybody to love, and then what do you do?"
"You care for them anyways." He says. He sips from the drink that is placed in front of him and smiles. "No wonder your eyes lit up when you first sipped this."
"Cheers!" I say sarcastically. He clinks his drink to mine.
"Cheers! Merry Christmas! Is there anything you want for Christmas?" he questions me.
The singing continues. I think the song isn't even a Christmas song. I think it's a drinking game song I've heard on more than one occasion.
I've even caught myself singing it from time to time.
I sigh. I light up another cigarette. "I don't know. I want someone to clean up the smell off the ship I live on. It makes me sick to my stomach."
"Maybe that's a gift you can give to someone that isn't wrapped in a box."
I finish the drink and order another one. Maybe more cheer will come with this one as well.
"I'm not that caring," I lament lamely. This isn't the kind of night I had in mind. I thought it would go in a completely different direction.
"Everyone has a caring side because it's Christmas," he says. He puts money down on the counter. "Busy night; a nice chat with a beautiful woman, and now I have to get home to the misses. Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas," I say back just to get him off my back. The man it too cheery for this establishment.
He leaves. No one else sits next to me. I finish my drink and leave. Between the two of them; they left enough money to cover all the drinks of the night, and then some.
I return to the ship and everyone is the way I left them. The smell is still in full bloom. I frown and growl in frustration. I take off my coat and gloves and get to work. I don't care about any of them. I just want the smell gone.
By the time I am done the sun is beginning to come up in the sky. Jet walks in to the sitting room where I am sitting on the couch.
"Nice to not wake up to the smell of my own vomit, did you clean?"
"Someone told me to be caring for Christmas. I did it, so don't expect anything else."
He smiles. "Did Santa give you exactly what you wanted for Christmas?"
"I bought my own gift." I frown. He did give me the idea to be caring. Him? Santa Claus? Yeah right. It was just some lonely old man on Christmas Eve.
I pick up my coat and gloves. "I'm going to bed. I think I'm losing my mind."
"Night Faye. I'll take the reins now."
I give him a slight wave. I go into my room and crash down on my bed. I land on something. A gift? I roll onto my back and unwrap the paper. The present is a figurine of a child selling flowers to a young girl. I've always wanted this for a very long time; simply because- I open the back and there is a lipstick taser with one million volts. Nice and sweet and packing heat; no one would expect.
No one would know that I've had my eye on this statue for a long time. It is way too much money to buy on my own.
How would it get here?
Santa?
Impossible. That's just a story.
I get out of bed to check on the kid. Jet and her sit on his bed drinking steaming, hot cups of tea. They both look at me.
"Just, uh, if you guys need anything, just shout, okay?" I walk away. It must be Christmas.