That sure was a weird dream, Luke thought. It was getting colder, but the Dark Day was not yet over. Luke still had a beer left, so he decided to indulge in one last one. The cold and the alcohol combined to lull him back to sleep.
Again, the same scritch-scratch sound stirred him from his nap. What the...? Another figure stood before him.
"Lucas Danes, Lukey Luke," called an eerily familiar voice from just in front of the boat.
Luke jumped up, twice actually, as he recognized the figure as none other than his late Uncle Louie.
"Uncle Louie?" he asked quickly. "But you're..."
"Dead and buried next to your ole' Dad," the figure told him.
Luke looked at the figure with more care. Yep, it definitely looked like Uncle Louie...and wait, was that a Revolutionary War uniform he was sporting? Damned if it wasn't...Luke shook his head.
"So kid," the figure asked, "you really wanna end up like me?"
"What do you mean?" Luke replied.
"Ya said it yourself, kid. Didn't have any wife or kids to look out for things. Had to rely on others to look out for me. Which reminds me, hubba hubba! That was quite a piece of ass you had with you at my funeral."
Luke looked up, shocked.
"Anyway, here's the deal," the figure continued. "I gotta show you something." He moved, or rather floated, closer to Luke, and as he did so, baseball cards seemed to flutter from his uniform pockets. "It seems that that brother of mine decided that I am the Ghost of Christmas Past."
"You're kidding, Uncle Louie. You gotta be kidding," answered Luke.
"As I live, well, sort of, and breathe," the figure replied. "Stand up, boy, and come over here."
He motioned to the shelf in the back of the garage, which had an old TV set Luke used to follow his favorite ball games when working on the boat.
Before Luke could even protest, he found himself standing in front of the TV. It was turned on, tuned to some oldies station.
"You remember this scene?" said the figure.
"Remember it...I think of it a lot." For the scene playing on the TV screen was almost thirty years in the past. It was a Christmas scene. A beautiful woman--his Mom!--was admiring a little girl's doll. "Liz!" he whispered.
Suddenly, a boy bounded into the room. This boy was strangely attired, wearing a Spock-blue Star Trek shirt.
"Merry Christmas, Luke honey," the woman on the screen warmly said, beckoning him over for a reluctant kiss.
"Live Long and Prosper, Mom," the boy replied, as he gave her a Vulcan salute and then stiffly asked her if she would open his present.
"Yep, that's you," the figure purporting to be Uncle Louie stated, "and you always thought I was weird for doing the reenactment stuff. At least THAT really happened..."
Luke glared at him, then turned his attention back to the TV. He reached out and traced the outline of his mother's face. For the first time this Dark Day, he felt comforted as he watched his childhood self interact with his mom that long-ago, happy Christmas morning.
"My family, all together," Luke affirmed. "Before Mom..." he choked, "died. Before Dad got sick. Before Liz went nuts..."
His family looked so happy. The scene was noisy, joyous and celebratory; Christmas carols played on the old stereo, and Liz was chattering away, his dad contributing off-screen to the chatter.
Just then, the figure reached out and changed the channel.
"Hey Uncle Louie, what the hell are you doing?" Luke cried out.
The figure smirked and said, "Your dad says I needs to show you Christmas at another house, that same year."
And Luke turned back to the screen, and saw the Gilmore Mansion. He shuddered, recalling the bad memories that place held for him.
On screen, the mansion door silently swung open, and Luke saw a living room with a very beautiful tree. A group of adults stood in one corner, politely laughing and chitchatting. In another corner, on a ramrod-straight chair, sat a beautiful little girl, dressed in an expensive-looking, very frou-frou dress.
"Lorelai..." Luke whispered.
"Yes indeedy, it's that luscious thing you brought to my funeral," the figure verified.
The little girl sat quietly, hands folded in her lap, eyes downcast. Her Christmas bounty was stacked in the corner, enough gifts to bestow upon a Third-World nation's orphans, Luke thought.
Watching the scene, Luke realized that this was a Christmas in deeds only, not in spirit. The carefully orchestrated Christmas music played discreetly in the background, and every time the little girl tried to play with her toys, a maid would come over and return them to the pile.
Suddenly, an impish little boy appeared in the room, running over to the little girl.
"Come Lor, let's play hide and seek," he said.
A sensation of doom swept over Luke. This was, he knew without a doubt, Christopher. He watched as little Lorelai took little Christopher's hand, and for the first time that Christmas, smiled. It tugged at Luke's heart, knowing that she had such an unhappy childhood. For the first time, he felt a measure of sympathy and gratefulness for Christopher, and an appreciation for the long history the two shared.
"She loves ya, you know, not him," the figure claiming to be his Uncle proclaimed, taking Luke out of his reverie.
"Lorelai..." Luke whispered.
"Why the hell you want to end up like me, beats me, when you've got someone like her..." the figure stated.
"But I don't..."
"Then why the hell are you acting like me? Scowling, shutting her out, not talking to her..."
"I've got a kid, Uncle Louie..." Luke whispered.
"And? So what? Didn't you build her a hoop-de-hoop, and help fix things around her house without being asked, and make a special coffee cake with balloons for her girl's sixteenth birthday?
"How do you know..." Luke asked.
"I know. But what I don't know is why you won't accept her comfort. You think it was fun dying alone? You think it was fun having you of all people stuff my body in my coffin? You need her. You think she's the only needy one, but boy, you need her." Then, without warning, the figure claiming to be Uncle Louie said, "Geez Louise, now I've actually been nicer than I ever was when I was alive. Gotta go, kid."
"Uncle..."
And he was gone.
"Dad," Luke whispered, "I sure hope you've been kicking his butt around wherever it is you both are."