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Chapter 41: 'Twas the Week Before Christmas

December 15th

4:19 PM

The Loft

The garland wouldn't stick. No matter how much tape Roger used, how hard he hit it, how dirtily he swore at it, it wouldn't stick. Finally, he punched it, in a last, angry attempt to make the tape take hold on the stained, peeling wallpaper of the loft.

"Déjà vu," came a voice from behind him. It was Mark's voice.

Roger sighed loudly, and hit the garland again as it fell, out of pure anger this time.

"Come to gloat?" muttered Roger.

"Not unless you want me to," returned Mark. "Need help?"

"Not from you," Roger grumbled.

Mark shrugged.

"Okay…in that case."

He switched on his camera, aiming it at Roger, who was still attacking the garland with an almost violent fervor.

"Close up," he narrated, "as the independent fool meets with failure once again, the direct result of his refusal to accept help."

Roger rounded on him immediately, the garland falling to his feet.

"Shut the fuck up, Mark!" he yelled.

"I wasn't talking to you," replied Mark, fed up with Roger's stubborn determination to cling to his old grudge and anger. "Roger, do you *enjoy* being angry?"

Roger gave the garland one last attempt. He plastered it to the wall with so much tape that it looked like some kind of weird plastic object, then took a step back from the wall. There was a loud ripping noise, and the entire thing fell down again.

"Damn it!" Roger nearly screamed at the wall. He sat down hard on the couch, his head in his hands, fighting back tears.

"Roger…" said Mark carefully, "I don't want to demean your frustration but…it's just a garland. This is hardly a life and death matter."

Roger glared at him, red-faced.

"It's a matter of pride," he snapped, then realized how stupid that sounded. There was a moment of embarrassed silence, but then Roger started to laugh. Before long, they were both laughing uproariously, slapping the sofa cushions and each other's shoulders. The sofa made an awful groaning noise, and the spring that Maureen had dislodged several weeks ago flew up and hit the ceiling, then came back down and landed on Mark's head, making them both laugh even harder.

Finally, they both collapsed against the back of the couch, shoulder to shoulder, breathless.

"Still mad at me?" Mark asked teasingly.

"Yes," grumbled Roger, but his voice shook with laughter.

"Liar," said Mark.

"I'm not talking to you," Roger pouted.

"Roger…If I wear your First Rate Asshole shirt, *then* will you talk to me?" Mark asked.

Roger started to laugh again.

"All right, all right…I forgive you…on one condition."

"What's that?" Mark asked warily.

"That we never have to talk about this again…because…I forget why I'm mad at you now. And it feels stupid."

Mark snorted.

"No kidding."

Roger cuffed him on the shoulder.

"Don't push it."

"Good God, are they actually speaking?" Mimi asked in mock astonishment as she came in the door, "Mo, hurry up before you miss it!"

Maureen bolted into the room, a dizzying blur of hair, black leather, and cheap perfume. She stopped a few steps into the living room, and sat on Mark's lap. He grunted in surprise, and flushed bright red as she smiled up at him.

"Holy shit, what happened to her?" Roger asked Mimi, kissing her lightly.

"I am officially a free woman," Maureen answered proudly.

"Meaning…"

"I had lunch with Joanne. And…settled things. Well, sort of."

"Maureen…I think her throwing the salt shaker at you was a pretty definitive answer. She's not going to want you back," said Mimi dryly.

Maureen sighed and nodded.

"But at least she understands now. Or at least I tried to make her."

She sat still for a second, then looked back at Mark.

"So. I'm available now. Sure *you* don't want to take me back, Marky?"

Mark coughed uncomfortably. Mimi went over and tapped Maureen lightly on the shoulder.

"Uh..Mo? I hate to break this to you, but he's officially off-limits once he's engaged."

Maureen giggled obnoxiously.

"I know. I was just testing him. If he'd said yes, it would've gone straight back to Aimee in about two seconds flat."

Mark laughed awkwardly.

"So…how's the decorating going?" Mimi asked, trying to break the awkward silence.

Roger pointed to the garland, which was once again lying on the floor.

"It beat me," he whined in mock defeat.

This set Roger and Mark off into fresh spasms of laughter, earning them odd looks from the women. Roger got up and picked the garland up off the floor, peeling the old pieces of tape off it. He turned and looked at the others.

"I need someone to hold, and someone to tape. Volunteers?"

"Not me," said Mimi quickly.

Maureen climbed up on the sofa and put both hands on the top of Mark's head.

"Maureen…what the hell are you doing?" Marked asked incredulously.

"Surveying the wall."

"Umm…right," said Roger.

"Have I ever told you you look exactly like a cat?" asked Mark, looking up at Maureen.

She gave him an odd look.

"I'm not exactly sure how to take that…"

"I wouldn't, if I were you," said Mimi.

"Are you saying I'm hairy?" Maureen asked indignantly.

"No! I meant…a human cat?"

"Mark, stop while you're ahead," said Roger. "And could you guys *please* help me with this?"

It took all four of them to get the garland taped to the wall, as well as nearly a whole role of tape. When it was finally over, they stood back to admire their work.

"It looks…" Mark trailed off.

"Really ugly," said Maureen.

Mark grabbed the tape-dispenser out of Roger's hand.

"What are you doing?" asked Maureen as she watched Mark pull off a long piece of tape.

"You'll see. Close your eyes, it's a surprise."

Maureen narrowed her eyes at him, but then obeyed. Mark stuck the tape over her mouth, then made a run for the bedroom while Maureen chased after him, squealing loudly.

Mimi turned to Roger and kissed him on the lips.

"It's good to see you laughing again."

Roger grinned idiotically.

"Yeah. It is. Isn't it."

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Review please! NEXT CHAPTER IS THE END!! AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!