firstly, i'd like to say, hooray! we're halfway there!
... that's about it. =P
December 18th
Detective Frank Tripp walked through the doors of the Crime Lab with his most important mission of the year: deliver his Christmas presents.
Yes, he knew it was a still a week before the 25th, but he wanted to spread the cheer sooner. Actually the presents were weighing down his car (gas prices lately have been ridiculous, and it wasn't like Frank was made of money), but he was going to tell everyone the first part, about the cheer.
The Texan walked up to the receptionist and brandished a small wrapped box for her. "Merry Christmas!" he said, handing her the box of Dutch butter cookies he received at a Christmas party the year before.
"Hope you like butter." The woman's eyebrows furrowed at the peculiar comment from the detective. She responded, "Oh, thank you. Merry Christmas to you too, sir," and gave him a basket wrapped in cellophane.
Frank was surprised – was the receptionist crushing on him? He blushed furiously. He certainly wasn't expecting this.
"Really? This is for me?"
She looked up from her computer and removed her glasses. "Oh, no. It's for Ms. Duquesne. I saw that one of your presents had her name on it and thought that it would be easier if you just brought this basket up to her rather than have me call her down to pick it up." She smiled.
"Sure, a lot easier for you. You're not the one who's gotta carry the damn thing. What are these anyway?" The red and green cellophane prevented Frank from seeing the present clearly.
"Don't be such a complainer. We've got elevators, you know. And I know you're a gentleman. Bring the basket to her, please, and when you finish delivering your other presents, come visit me. There might be mistletoe hanging right where you're standing by then."
A shiver ran through Frank's spine. He tried to keep his face from twisting.
"You're married, aren't you? What would your husband think?"
"Oh, you. He doesn't have to know." She blew a kiss at him and shooed him off, telling him, "The faster you distribute your gifts, Mr. Tripp, the faster you'll get your Christmas present from me."
Frank nodded slowly, a tiny bit creeped out. He walked away, still in a daze.
No way, lady. He was going to take his sweet time being Santa Claus. And, for extra precaution, he was going to exit the building out back.
So there had better be a back door to this place.
--
Frank had made the stupidest route; his last stop ended up being Calleigh's lab, so he had to carry the basket and his gift everywhere.
A little worn out, he stepped into the lab without acknowledging his presence. He needed a chair before his legs stopped working.
"Calleigh, have you got an extra chair?" He panted in between words. The blonde turned from her stool and offered it to him.
"No, but have mine. You need it more." Frank nodded his thanks and set the gifts on the table, making sure neither of them compromised the evidence Calleigh was working on.
"Frank, you do realize that Christmas day is next week, not today."
He looked at her blankly. "Yes, I know that. Forgive me if I just wanted to spread the Christmas cheer early."
"Oh, okay." She looked convinced enough. "So did you bring everyone two gifts each?" Calleigh motioned to the two separately wrapped presents.
"No, I brought everybody one. This basket came from the receptionist. Somebody had given it to her and asked her to page you to claim it downstairs, but she thought of the brilliant idea of making me her messenger boy."
Calleigh smiled, and reached for Frank's present. She asked if she could open it now, and the Texan didn't oppose to it, so she ripped the wrapper apart.
"You don't need to murder the thing, Calleigh. It'll still be there, however fast you open it."
But by then the gift was in plain sight. It was a set of lotions and moisturizers from Bath and Body Works. Her favorite scent, too.
"Oh! Frank! How did you know pomegranate was my favorite?" She opened a cap and sniffed, closed her eyes and smiled.
"More than a couple times I had smelled it when you were around. I thought it smelled familiar when one of my daughters came to visit a while ago. She told me it was the pomegranate lotion and that it was her favorite too."
Calleigh walked around the table and gave Frank a quick hug. "Thanks, Frank. Who knew you were so attentive?" she joked.
"My scent of smell is what gets me first in line for prime ribs. That, and I think I'm spending too much time with you CSIs."
"I'm sorry, Frank. But I don't have a present ready for you. I barely even started my shopping."
Frank smiled inwardly. How genius was he?
"No, no. That's alright. You were my last stop so I've gotten used to that already. I guess I'll just be going home empty-handed."
Calleigh smiled in an attempt to hide her shame. "Wait. There might be something in here I can give you."
Then Calleigh reached for the basket and began to untie the ribbon that held up the cellophane. Frank sat, recuperating, and watched her open the currently anonymous present.
She took out the letter from the all too familiar white envelope and started to read.
Cal,
I haven't seen you all day. I hope you're not alone when you see this, because this sixth day can be shared.
You've probably been waiting for this. But rituals are cool, so just let me tell you that today is the sixth day.
On the sixth day of Christmas
My true love gave to me
Six geese-a-laying
Go ahead, take a gander at what's in the basket.
The wooden basket – those ones perfect for handing out Easter eggs – held six eggs. Six large eggs, to be precise. Each one was wrapped in Christmas-colored foil, some with designs and others in plain red and green.
Consider this an early Easter present. I had the choice between a half dozen goose eggs or chocolate goose eggs. I thought you would prefer the chocolate. Chocolate is a girl's best friend, right? Well, after me…and diamonds, and ice cream.
I think one goose egg is equivalent to three or four chicken eggs; they're huge! And if I remember correctly, two are hollow, two have caramel, and the last two are whole milk chocolate eggs. I just can't recall which wrapper is for which kind. If you need help distinguishing them, give me a call. I wouldn't mind running down there and taking a bite out of each one.
Don't die of chocolate overdose. At least, not without me.
Your chocolate-loving soul mate,
Ryan
PS. Question: if it's more than one is it goose eggs or geese eggs?
"So Calleigh, who's it from?"
She answered with a simple "Ryan," as she took one out and began examining the giant egg. If felt light so it must be a hollow one.
Frank shrugged. "Ryan? That's cool. Oh look, there's six eggs. Colossal, too. Just so you know, I like chocolate."
Calleigh sighed; Ryan did tell her to share, but she planned on keeping all the eggs and giving the detective something else. Something she wouldn't have a use for. "All right, Frank. Take your pick."
He grabbed a colorfully-wrapped egg and nodded his thanks. Calleigh felt a bit better. At least now Frank wouldn't be going home without a gift.
They greeted each other with a 'See you later' and Frank made his way to the door. Then he turned around and remembered something.
"Do you by any chance have a back door leading outside?"
The blonde's confused look left as soon as it came. She caught on with the Texan. "The receptionist creep you out with her mistletoe comment?"
"Yeah. Lady never gives up. She does this every year."
"Except this time you don't have to run across the foyer, because now you're smart enough to ask us about a back door."
"Better late than never. I wonder why I never thought of that, though."
"Well, we don't have one." Frank's face fell. "But," she continued, "you could go take the elevator to the parking garage and walk your way out to the front parking lot." He wasn't sure he liked the idea of walking for so long that he even considered being chased by the receptionist.
Calleigh noticed him pondering, unsure. "You can also go up to the roof, jump off, and hope you'll land in one piece. One alive piece."
"On second thought, I think I'll just mosey on to the parking garage. I need the exercise, anyway."
was that a freaky receptionist or what? hehe i just thought our very own Frank Tripp doesn't get picked on very much, so i evened that up.
it's currently 5 minutes to midnight (it's a boys like girls song!), so technically, i can still say 'happy boxing day!'
clickie the button & see where that takes you. hopefully to the land of reviews.