To A Bohemian Christmas!
By: Ethiwen
Disclaimer: Still don't own RENT or the characters of said show. It all belongs to the late (and great!) Jonathon Larson. I don't own The Myth of Sisyphus, which belongs to Albert Camus (if you're into philosophy, it is worth a read.) I do not own CBGB's or anything affiliated with the aforementioned. I do not own Santa Claus. I think I got everything…ummm…I don't own anything but the plot! Don't sue me!
Summary: Christmas mayhem for our bohemians! A little bit of crackfiction, but mostly just funny scenarios that they get into at Christmas time. Joanne is Obsessive Compulsive with gift-wrapping, Roger believes in Santa and Mark is…well…Jewish.
Ships: MoJo, everyone else alone
Warnings: If you ardently believe in Santa Claus TURN AWAY NOW. Discussion of religious traditions at holiday time. Probably alcohol and other fun things, so if that offends you…don't read.
Spoilers: Set pretty far post-RENT (Maureen and Joanne have children) so Angel and Mimi have passed.
Author's Notes: So while The Versatile Scarf and I were talking and musing one day, this story just kind of popped into my head, and commanded to be written. So here it is!
Yes I realize a lot of this would never happen…but plotbunnies are plotbunnies. Demanding little wenches, they are.
Enjoy!
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Joanne fumbled with the packages in her hands as she attempted to open the door to the apartment she shared with her partner Maureen and their two children. Frederick was in first grade and Hannah in kindergarten, so both of them were at school and Joanne could safely bring in their gifts without nullifying the existence of Santa Claus.
Finally getting the door open she pushed in with all of her packages. She set them on the dining room table, before sorting them out in five piles-- two for each child (one from Mama and Mommy and one from Santa) and a pile of beautiful new gift wrap and ribbons.
Maureen waltzed into the room and squealed, "Oooooh! Presents!" before rummaging though through the piles that Joanne had just made.
"Maureen…you're going to ruin the gift-wrap!" Joanne said, running to protect the shiny papers and ribbons from the clutches of her lover. "Do you want to put creases and wrinkles in it?"
"The kids are just going to rip it off anyway," Maureen shrugged.
"Well, it has to look pretty before they do, and it won't look nice all full of wrinkles."
"I can make them look pretty just as well as you can," Maureen retorted.
Joanne smiled. "Honeybear, I don't think you can." Joanne had wrapping down to an art. She knew which colors to coordinate, and just how to tie the perfect bow. When she was younger her friends used to pay her to wrap their gifts for them. She never had any creases out of place, and she always added little decorative things like cookies or candy canes to make them look festive. There was no doubt that Joanne was the Queen of Gift-Wrap.
"I can so!" Maureen pouted. "I'll prove it to you. I'll wrap the gifts this year."
"No, you won't. I'll wrap them like I do every year."
"Pookie," the diva whined, "I want to wrap them!"
"No, Maureen. And that's final." Joanne set her foot down, because if Maureen wrapped the presents, who knew what kind of pandemonium would ensue?
"Fine. No sex." Maureen had her own ways of putting her foot down.
"What?"
"You heard me." Her eyes narrowed dangerously, "You obviously don't trust me, so I don't think I trust you."
"Honeybear, that really isn't the wa--" Joanne stammered.
"That's final."
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At the loft, Roger Davis was a sight to see. He had on an apron, and was busy stirring melting chocolate in a big ceramic bowl on the hotplate while singing "Jingle Bell Rock" quite loudly. The counter was littered with packaged oatmeal and sugar, and various other things for baking--or rather not-baking. Roger was making some no-bake cookies for Santa.
A little-known fact about Roger Davis was that he still believed in Santa. No one had ever told him otherwise, and every year he still received packages--To: Roger, From: Santa. Little did he know they were really gifts covertly sent to Mark from Mrs. Davis.
Mark didn't like presents. He and Roger had a pact that they wouldn't give each other wrapped gifts on holiday occasions because it was just playing into the evil merchandising corporations.
But Mark also liked his roommate happy. He therefore put up with the efforts of Roger's mother to keep him blissfully ignorant. Besides, Mark thought, it's good for him to still believe in something. With so many fairytales ruined for Roger, what could it hurt to keep this one alive?
Mark walked into the loft, after being gone "filming". He was really picking up the package from Roger's mother from the post office.
"Hey Mark!" Roger chorused from the kitchen. "What've you got?"
"Just some film equipment I had to order…nothing much, don't worry about it." Mark took the package into his room.
When he returned from hiding them, Roger asked Mark, "Don't you go to that little mom-and-pop filming store down the way? I thought you said they always had everything a bohemian filmmaker needed?"
"Yeah well…" Mark stammered, "It…uhhh…it burned down?"
"Oh," Roger said surprised, "How awful!"
"Yeah, yeah, awful." Mark said offhandedly.
"Isn't that like the fifth time that's happened?"
"Ummm…yes?"
"Looks like they could use some better fire safety."
Trying to find a way to switch the topic of conversation Mark asked, "Did we get ornaments for the Charlie-Brown tree yet?"
"No flow. I figured we'd just each make one and put it on at the party. Sound good?"
"Sounds fine." Mark smiled. Whether he knew it or not, when it came down to things, Roger was a sentimental girl. "So, Col is coming the twenty-fourth--tonight-- and Maureen and Joanne are coming on the twenty-fifth in the after they drop the kids off at Joanne's parents. We need to call them and tell them what to bring, food wise, and apparently an ornament too. Just be sure to remind them, no wrapped gifts, alright?"
"Alright."
"I'm going filming for a while, and I have to pick up some things for Christmas. I'll be back shortly….Call them while I'm gone okay?"
"Okay."
Roger placed his no-bake cookies in the refrigerator, and half-heartedly cleaned up the mess on the counters by placing all the dishes in the sink without rinsing and wiping the crumbs on to the floor and pronouncing it clean…enough.
He went to the telephone and called Collins.
"Hey Col…Mark told me to call you…Uh-huh. Still bringing the alcohol?...Good! We're each making an ornament for the tree this year…Uh-huh…No I think that's all. Alright, see ya."
He hung up the receiver, before picking it back up and dialing Joanne's cell.
"Hi Jo. It's Roger. Uh-huh. You guys are still bringing the food right? …Yes, Chinese is fine. Mhm. Well, we're all making an ornament this year for the tree, so bring something. 'Kay. Tell Maureen Hi from us…will do. Alright, bye Joanne."
Roger grabbed his guitar and sat on their ancient metal table strumming the familiar chords of Musetta's Waltz, feeling quite pleased with himself. He believed he had done just what Mark had instructed, and his cookies had turned out excellent.
He had forgotten a small detail, but what damage could that do?
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Joanne could not believe she had consented to this. This wasn't wrapping it was...it was…-debauchery-!
Not only was all her beautiful new gift wrap getting mangled, but Maureen wasn't even covering the names of the item inside. She insisted that surprises were no fun, and therefore if the name was showing, the kids would like them more.
Her girlfriend was single-handedly destroying Christmas.
Literally single handedly, because she had painted the nails on her right hand, rendering it inactive in the gift-wrapping process.
Joanne was dying. She had been ordered to stay out of the entire process, so all she could do was watch helplessly from the sidelines as chaos ensued.
She couldn't take it. She had to leave. She decided that the local coffee shop could use a visit.
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"Happy Kwanzaa Crackers!" Collins shouted jovially as he stood under their window. "Throw down the key!"
Mark stepped out onto the fire escape. "Collins, Kwanzaa doesn't start until the twenty-sixth." He tossed down the small brass key to his friend. "Nice try though."
"Eh…two days off, what does it matter." he chuckled. "It's still an occasion for this." he said demonstrating the alcohol in his possession. "Be up in a sec."
Mark smiled, before heading back inside.
---Four hours later---
"I bett'r go t'bed, or SantyClaus won't come." Roger slurred out of intoxication. "'Night guys."
"'Night Rog." Mark and Collins chorused.
Mark had stayed sober. As soon as he heard the telltale snores that signaled Roger's sleep he quickly tiptoed into his own room and retrieved the hidden packages.
"Still doing that huh?" Collins asked.
"Yeah. Have been for a long while. Better to do it, than to have a disappointed Roger."
"I suppose…'Night, Mark." Collins lay back on the couch.
"'Night, Collins. See you in the morning.
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Joanne simply could not take it. She had stayed at the coffee-house as late as she could, leaving only when they closed. When she returned home, she found all in bed, and the butchered gifts under the tree.
She tried to ignore them.
Really she did.
But they were staring at her. Pleading with her. She could almost hear them saying "Save us, Joanne! Please help us! Fix us!"
She could see them watching, begging, -needing- to be rescued.
She shook herself. This was what too much coffee and not enough sleep did. She needed to lie down.
She positioned herself on the couch and tried again to ignore the crumpled wrapping, the splintered ribbons, the bare spaces where you could see box. It was like Maureen had no pity on the…nudity… and shame of these poor presents. Just because she barely clothed herself, that didn't mean that these presents wanted to expose themselves! And they were children's gifts, no less! If anything, they ought to be more modest!
These thoughts were wild…but tonight so was Joanne. She simply could not turn away from this humiliation, this shameless torture of these presents.
She had to do something!
Luckily, Joanne -always- kept spare wrapping supplies…just in case. Swiftly she unwrapped all of the presents, and put the disheveled wrappings in a trash bag. She quietly tiptoed into the hall closet and retrieved her emergency wrapping supplies. Usually she reserved these and a few extra gifts for unexpected company, but this was for the humanity of her children's gifts!
Quickly and efficiently, she base wrapped all of the items in boxes. Once clean, shiny paper covered the entire box, without creases or damages, she moved to the next, making sure each had a unique and individual wrapping (thank goodness for reversible gift wrap!) to call its own. Once finished with the boxed gifts she rapidly lined several holiday bags with different colors and patterns of tissue paper, making sure to coordinate it with the bag. After that she covered each odd shaped item in a coordinating tissue paper of its own and dropped the item in the bag. She then covered each with more gift wrap of the first kind.
It was time for the ribbon run. Joanne attached a certain ribbon and arranged some holiday extras (such as cookies, candy canes, bells, etc.) coordinating to each gift. She then spent a little time with each present, arranging, beautifying, and decorating. Each was a masterpiece in its own right when she had finished.
She returned all the presents to their post under the tree and returned her gift supplies to the closet.
She checked the cookies for Santa (which Maureen had already eaten) and ambled off to bed, thoroughly content with herself, and the service she rendered unto the presents.
Little did she know, she wasn't the only one having trouble sleeping because their mind was on gifts. Hannah had seen everything.
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Joanne woke up to Frederick bouncing up and down on the bed she shared with Maureen.
"MAMA!!! MOMMY!!! WAKE-UP!!" he shouted excitedly "WAKE UP! IT'S CHRISTMAS!"
"All right Frederick," she giggled, "I'm up, I'm up!"
"Mmmlllph." Maureen grumbled as she lifted her head from the pillow. 'What time is it?"
"Joanne looked over at the red glaring letters of the clock-radio. "Six Fifty-Two. And by the looks of him, he's been up awhile waiting. C'mon, Mo."
They wandered out to the living room amidst Frederick's cheers, but Joanne noticed something missing.
"Hey, Freddy…where's Hannah?"
"She didn't wanna get up," he looked at Joanne disappointedly. "Do we hafta wait for her?"
"Yeah, we do." She looked at Maureen, who was thankfully still in the kitchen making coffee and was too tired to see Joanne's rewrapped gifts before turning her attention back to her son. "Go in the kitchen and get Mommy to make you some breakfast okay? I'm going to go see what Hannah's up to." She got up and called into the kitchen, "Mo, get Frederick some breakfast alright?" before heading into Hannah's room.
She found her daughter idly brushing a doll's hair sitting on her bed.
"Hey Hannah, don't you want to see what Santa brought you?"
"No."
"Sweetheart, I'm sure he brought you all sorts of new pretty things. Don't you want to play with them?"
"No." Hannah had silent tears streaming down her face. Joanne moved to comfort her, but Hannah pushed her away.
"No." she said again, more defiantly getting up from the bed, where Joanne had sat down.
"Why not? What's wrong Hannah?"
"Santa isn't real," she whispered.
"Of course Santa is re--"
"He is not! I saw you wrapping the presents Mama! Santa isn't real!" she sobbed.
Oh dear. What had Joanne gotten herself into?
"Hannah, Come here." Joanne motioned to the spot beside her on the bed. "Do you trust your Mama? Come here." Slowly, Hannah walked over to the bed and sat down.
"Good, now look at me;" Joanne said softly as she paused, waiting for her daughter to respond, "Santa -is- real. I know you saw me wrapping those presents, but I didn't buy them."
Hannah sniffled. "You didn't?"
"No! Santa's elves were extra busy this year, so they couldn't wrap them. I had a little bit of extra time, and he knew that. So he sent them to me to wrap for him. Both yours and your brother's." she smiled. "I totally forgot about them until last night, so I started to wrap them up for you guys, and you apparently saw me doing it. But those presents are from Santa. I'm just the wrapper." She put up her right hand as she would to swear an oath in court.
"You promise?"
"I promise."
"Hope to die? Stick a -zillion- needles in your eye?"
"That too." Joanne chuckled. "Now don't you want to see what's in those presents?" Hannah nodded. "Alright then." Joanne stood up and Hannah grabbed her hand and dragged her into the living room, both laughing the whole way.
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Roger woke up Christmas morning, as excited as a child.
Hell, in some aspects he was.
But nothing could stop Roger from opening the gifts that Santa sent to him.
He went and jumped on Mark's bed. "MAAAAARK!!! MARK!" he shook the filmmaker awake. "Mark, it's CHRISTMAS!"
"I'm Jewish, Roger. Hanukkah celebrations are at sundown. Let me sleep." Mark mumbled sleepily.
"Mark. Get. Up. Now. C'mon! It's Christmas!!! Don't you want to see what Santa brought?"
"Not really. I don't get presents from Santa. Jewish, remember? Mentioned it five seconds ago?"
"Don't make me get cold water, Mark." Mark's head shot up to look at Roger.
"You wouldn't."
"Oh, wouldn't I?" Roger said with a smile.
Mumbling something about Sadism Mark reached over to retrieve his glasses and sat up. "Alright, I'm up, I'm up!" he sighed. "Let's go see your gifts."
"YES!" Roger pumped the air with his fist before scurrying out of the room with Mark trailing behind.
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Maureen and Joanne drove up to the loft. After parking, Joanne entrusted the presents (which she had wrapped!) to Maureen. They walked over to the window and Joanne shouted "Hey boys!" Roger popped his head out of the window. "Throw down the key!"
The small metal object hit her palm and they walked up and into the door.
"Happy Holidays everyone!" Maureen said cheerfully as she burst in the loft with Joanne in tow. "I have presents!"
"Presents!!!" Roger screamed happily before darting over to Maureen. "What'd ya get me?!" She handed him a brightly colored package, which he immediately tore into.
She skipped over to Collins and handed him his. "For you," she giggled.
"Thank you."
But there was one package left over! It couldn't be for Mark! He had told Roger to tell them no wrapped gifts. He remembered telling him! If it was for him Mark didn't know what he would do! He couldn't have a wrapped gift! He just couldn't! Why hadn't Mo remembered if Roger had forgotten? Oh God, it just could -not- be for--
"Pookie!" She said handing him the shiny package of doom, "Merry Chr--I mean…Happy Hanukkah!"
No. No.no.no.no.no.no.no.no.no. Not a Hanukkah present! Mark began to hyperventilate. He couldn't breathe--his airways were slowly closing, as the room began to spin…or was it him spinning?
Everything was fuzzy and he vaguely felt the object removed from his hand, and the force of someone sitting him down. His inhaler was thrust in his face, and he gladly accepted it, restoring air to his lungs, and clearing his head.
"Mark?! Mark, are you okay?!" Roger was shouting.
He couldn't speak, so he just nodded and held out his index finger. He would be fine, just give him a minute.
"Marky, what happened?" Maureen asked.
"Can't…wrapped…Hanukkah…" Mark spluttered.
"Hold on! Let the boy catch his breath," Collins interjected.
"Mark, your inhaler," Roger reminded.
Mark nodded, and took another breath with the aid of his inhaler. "I can't have wrapped presents," he started slowly. "I told Roger to tell you guys." He shook his head.
"Oh yeah," Roger smiled bashfully. "Forgot about that."
"Why can't you have wrapped presents, Mark?" Joanne asked perplexed.
"Well, when I was a little boy, I lived in a very strict Jewish household. We didn't have much money, but our parents still felt the need to observe the tradition of opening a gift each day of Hanukkah. So the first day, we'd be allowed to open the present, but we weren't ever allowed to touch it. My mom would set it on the mantle, and we could only watch it from afar."
"Oh, how awful!" Maureen gasped.
"That wasn't the worst of it," Mark continued. "After we went to bed, my mom would take the presents off of the mantle and rewrap them, and the next day we opened it again, and she set it on the mantle. It went on like that every day of Hanukkah." He shook his head. "That's why I can't have wrapped presents. Thank you for the thought though."
"I'm so glad I'm not Jewish! Santa has never disappointed me!" Roger announced, making everyone laugh.
"We had our own little Santa scare this morning," Joanne laughed. "Hannah saw me wrapping her presents. I had to lie pretty dang quick."
"What do you mean you were wrapping her gifts?" Roger asked. "Santa always wraps the gifts."
"Uh-oh," Mark whispered.
"Exactly. That's what little kids believe, anyway."
"Jo had to feed her some story about how the elves were too busy," Maureen laughed.
"What are you guys talking about?!? Santa -is- real!" Roger exclaimed.
"No, Roger," Joanne laughed. "He isn't."
"Oh, Mark!" Maureen gasped. "You're not still doing th--"
"I am."
"Oh shit."
"Mark, what are they talking about? What are you still doing? You know Santa is real, don't you? You saw the gifts!"
"Rog, I'm Jewish…I don't care one way or the other about Santa. But I knew this had to come out sooner or later…Roger those presents you get every year? They aren't from Santa."
"Of course they are, where else wou--"
"Roger, they're from your mother. She sends them to me. You know that 'film equipment' I had to order?"
"Yeah, that shop burned down, you had t--"
"No, it didn't. It never has. Those were the packages. I'm sorry Roger."
Roger just shook his head.
"Alcohol anyone?" Collins offered, sensing this party may need it more than he had expected.
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Several hours of intoxication later, and all problems forgotten, Roger decided it was time to decorate the tree.
"Mark! You firs'! You put yours on firs'!"
"Alright. This is an old film reel, I thought it might make a good garland," he said as he strung it over the tree."
"Collins?"
"A rock on a string. Here's to Sisyphus!" he toasted the mythical character and downed more alcohol. "And here's drumstick on a string for Angel."
"Jo?"
"I made a string of paper-clips, for a garland." she draped it alongside Mark's.
"I poked a hole through a guitar pick," Roger explained. "I got it at CBGB's. This car key was April's and this candle is for Mimi. Maureen?"
"This quarter is for Benny," Maureen said as she hung it up, attached with grey strings. "Aaaaand…Ta-da!" she pulled out her cowbell. "For the top!" she exclaimed.
They stepped back and admired their artwork.
"To a Bohemian Christmas!" Collins toasted.
And the others echoed, "A Bohemian Christmas!"