Here Be Monsters
"…because Derek is such an idiot. We're probably going to grab dinner somewhere since it looks like you're not going to be back for a—WHAT ARE YOU DOING?"
It sounded like he was taking a piss in her aunt's birdbath.
"I'm taking a piss."
"IN MY AUNT'S BIRDBATH?"
"In your aunt's birdbath."
Enter the noise of a strangled rhinoceros trying to pass a kidney stone.
"WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?"
"What? Would you rather me piss on the miniature reindeer? Or the baby Jesus?"
"YOU—DER-EK!"
"So the baby Jesus then?"
"UGH! DID YOU HAVE TO PISS IN THE BIRDBATH? YOU COULDN'T JUST PISS ON IT?"
"Where's the challenge in that?"
"WHERE'S THE—WHERE'S YOUR FUCKING COMMON DECENCY! WE'VE BEEN HERE FOR ALL OF TWO MINUTES!"
"I'VE HAD TO PISS FOR THE LAST TWO HOURS!"
"YOU ARE SUCH A FUCKING CHILD!"
"YOU ARE SUCH A FUCKING BANSHEE!"
"GROW UP!"
"SHUT UP!"
"MAKE ME!"
"BITE ME!"
A lot of shuffling sounds.
"ARGH! DID YOU THROW A FUCKING SNOWBALL AT ME? YOU ARE SO JUVENILE."
"YOU ARE SUCH A PRINCESS."
"YOU'RE WAKING UP THE WHOLE NEIGHBORHOOD!"
"YOU'RE WAKING UP THE WHOLE NEIGHBORHOOD!"
"YOU—GOD DAMN IT."
"WHAT?"
"I—VOICEMAIL—RECORDING—GOD DAMN IT."
A defeated sigh.
"Sorry, mom."
"Maybe she won't listen to it."
Doop doop.
Doop-da-doop.
"We'll be lucky if she doesn't listen to it in front of the whole family."
Da-dooby doop.
The restaurant was dimly lit and otherwise empty. Casey had chosen it. She had also chosen a table by the window that looked out onto the street, and the chicken lo mein that they were splitting. Somehow, he suspected, she had also chosen the abominable Christmas music playing in the background.
Da-dooby—
I'm…
Dreaming...
Of a white…
"Well," Derek shrugged, "it's—"
CHRISTMAS!
"—a time of forgiveness. A time of mercy…"
"We're going to need all of that forgiveness and mercy just for missing the pageant." Casey glared across the table at him and added, "Which—"
EVERY CHRISTMAS CARD I WRITE!
"—was also your fault."
"My fault?"
May your days…
"How is it my fault that—thank you, I'll take it." He smiled up to the waiter who'd just brought them the check, then scowled back at his step-sister as he wrapped the ticket around his card.
Be merry…
"How is it my fault," he continued more quietly, "that you left the Christmas presents on the counter?" He stabbed his forefinger forcefully into the tablecloth in front of her plate.
AND BRIGHT!
"Because I told you to put them in the Prince yesterday!" She jabbed her fork squarely at his nose.
And may all…
He swatted it away. "And I told you that I forgot and said for you grab them this morning!"
Your Christmases…
"When we were in a hurry to leave because you overslept!"
Be white!
"Because you kept me up last night—"
Doop doop.
"—with that fucking awful music!"
Doop-da-doop.
She raised up and slammed her palms against the table with a sudden primal fury. "CELINE DION'S CHRISTMAS ALBUM IS FLAWLESS—"
"Flawlessly awful."
"—and I was proofreading my term paper!"
Da-dooby-doop.
"Not that I expect you to be familiar with that practice."
He pounced forward with a scathing response, but an awkward bout of throat-clearing stopped him open-mouthed and two inches from her face.
I'm…
Realizing with some embarrassment that the waiter had returned, they both hesitated, staring at one another and breathing heavily as though they might just say fuck it and let the battle continue unabated.
Dreaming…
Their sparring had become so cathartic of late that it was difficult to stop once started. But after a heated moment, they backed down and settled for glaring daggers at the other in cold silence as the plates were cleared from their table.
Of a white…
CHRISTMAS!
"Look," Derek said finally, fingers splaying, "we need to…to stop this. Somehow. And play nice. That's the only way dad and Nora won't kill us."
Casey continued to stare at him strangely. Her arms were folded stiffly across her chest in exact reflection of his own.
"What?" he demanded.
Just like the ones I used to know!
"You're right." She looked as though the admission might poison her.
Where the treetops…
"Don't expect me to be happy about it," she warned him.
Glisten!
Derek snorted and shuffled in his seat.
And children…
Listen!
Another moment passed.
To hear…
Sleigh bells clanged suddenly against the door, and he glanced up to see another couple making their way inside. The woman smiled at the man as he took her coat and gloves, and they exchanged a passionate kiss beneath the mistletoe dangling from the doorway.
…the snow.
THE SNOW!
Oh, I'm…
Dreaming…
It looked so natural, so easy, so effortless.
Gag me with a spoon, Derek thought.
"Gag me with a spoon," Casey said.
Of a white…
His eyes darted back to her face. He could see that she was watching the same couple through the reflection in the window beside them. She probably didn't realize she'd spoken aloud.
CHRISTMAS!
Da da da!
With every Christmas card I write!
"Alright," Casey said at length, clasping her hands together and regarding him with a most determined look.
He raised his eyebrows.
"Thank you," she ground out, "for buying dinner. It was…nice of you."
Her gratitude sounded as though it had been extracted from her mouth like a rotten tooth. But still, he supposed, she had said it. And she hadn't added in any qualifiers—she hadn't said it was somewhat nice of him or uncharacteristically nice of him or even her favorite chauvinistically nice of him. Surely that was something.
May your days…
Be merry…
And bright!
"Well," he conceded to the erstwhile banshee, clearing from his throat the urge to comment on her lackluster appreciations, "you…paid for gas." And at her expectant expression, he added, "Which was…also nice of you."
She smiled tightly.
He returned her tight smile with a forced grin.
And then, inevitably, their eyes darted sideways, as if uncertain (terrified?) of what came next. They were entering uncharted waters, after all—the kind that came with bold-letter warnings like "HERE BE MONSTERS."
And may all…
Your Christmase—
EeeeEEEEeeeEEEssssss…
He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed, everything about the moment suddenly becoming too much for him.
Beeeee…
Whiiiite!
"Whoever wrote this song didn't live in fucking Canada."
She forgot herself entirely, and laughed.
Doop-doop.
Doop-da-doop.