Right, sorry this took so long. There's been stuff going on.
Thanks to Corrine for putting up with all my snippets, and general being-a-pratness!
Also…well done Laura. Put that bstard of a bloke behind you!
Vince must have foolishly fallen asleep, and wakes up, slumped painfully on the sofa. Someone else is in the room, and is clattering around in what he imagines is a Howard-fashion, but when he opens his eyes, it is merely Melinda, putting the kettle on and looking at him through bleary eyes. Her fair hair is a tangled mess. He quickly rolls down his sleeve, and checks the presence of the blade in his pocket, before relaxing slightly. She smiles at him brightly, as she exits the kitchen in such skimpy underwear, it wouldn't look out of place on a hooker.
For the first time in years, it is snowing on Christmas day. Not fine snow either, as it is falling in huge flakes that don't look that delicate at all. The view through the front window is of a blank white garden, a slushy road, and Mrs Pankhurst, the mad old lady who lives below them; clearing the path in rainbow leg warmers, and leading her snow shovel in a tango. She waves with an air of insanity, then continues to make a prat of herself. Vince considers waving back, but then realises that she is blind as a bat.
The TV now sports a bleak kids cartoon about why children shouldn't play on railway lines, which is seemingly near its end, as a boy called William runs onto the track and is mowed down by a blue steam engine that might have been Thomas the Tank Engine. As the titles fade, the channels presenter (in full reindeer outfit) wishes viewers a merry Christmas, for what seems to be the 100th time since the channel came on earlier that morning.
Multiple dull thuds on the stairs indicate that Howard and Bollo are now on their way down, so Vince casually wanders into the kitchen and drops three slices of bread in the toaster, otherwise Howard will only nag him to attempt breakfast.
"Morning." Grunts Bollo, shuffling into the lounge, flopping into the armchair and switching the telly to GMTV. Howard follows, fully dressed and adjusting his tie.
"Merry Christmas Vince!" He practically shouts, suspiciously jolly, then more miffed "Why aren't you dressed?" Vince butters a slice of toast and gingerly takes a bite.
"S'only ten in the morning! Don't need to get dressed until dinners ready." He yawns to emphasize the point.
"Yeah, but my mums coming at twelve, and I want everything nice…Mel's getting ready now…" He trails off, smiling slightly.
"She won't be out for ages though. If you sort the food I'll be ready for whenever."
Howard was still off in his own little world.
Bollo, in the mean time had brought down his tie collection, and was debating over whether to wear a lurid rainbow one with psychotic looking reindeers on it, or its equally disturbing counterpart, which depicted a chainsaw wielding Santa Claus, with the caption 'I know where you live'.
When Melinda had finally finished in the bathroom, it was just gone 11:30, and the place was littered unhelpfully with various bottles. There was red nail varnish smeared on the edge of the sink, and the mirror was misted up. Vince wondered what to do. His hair looked passable, which was a change. He'd have to change though, as boxers and a dressing gown didn't really make ideal dining wear. After applying the usual eyeliner he slunk into the bedroom, pulling open the wardrobe that was covered with so many cutting and pictures it barely looked like a piece of furniture.
Peeling of the bath robe stung, as the blood had dried onto the fabric. There were more cuts now, 4 on the left arm and 6 on the right. Vince didn't even flinch looking at them now. They were normal. Probably. Pulling on some dark jeans and a black long-sleeve tee, he finally headed downstairs, just as the door bell rang.
Howard sprinted towards it, balancing a saucepan of sprouts in one hand unlocking the door with the other. An old lady on the other side looked positively alarmed, the squealed, and ran to greet her son.
"Howard! My how you've grown dear! Look, I've got you your presents? Have you opened any yet, you know how we always used to wait until after lunch to open them, I hope your carrying on tradition! Is that turkey I smell? You have done me proud!" She hugged him again, adjusting her glasses, and smoothing her permed white hair before turning to Vince, who had stood a little bewildered at the bottom of the stairs.
You must be…lets see…Vincent! Yes, hello! Howard tells me lots about you, y'know." She beamed and rummaged around in her carpet bag before pulling out a colourfully wrapped parcel. "This is for you. It's only a little something, but Howwie didn't get me the train tickets until last week!" A cry of outrage sounded from the kitchen.
"Mum! Don't call me Howwie! You stopped that when I was five!" The smell of food wafted from the kitchen, making Vince's mouth water traitorously.
"Cheers!" Said Vince, taking the gift, just as Melinda wandered into the room, looking nothing short of spectacular. Her fair hair was worn up in a loose knot, secured with a select clip, and she was wearing a flowing turquoise dress that cut off just below the knee. Howard's present, a delicate silvery chain strung with small crystals hung around her slender neck. She smiled demurely at Mrs Moon, and kissed her on both cheeks.
"Hello, Mrs Moon, pleasure to meet you." She said, sounding a little too enthusiastic.
"Please, call me Nora!" She laughed, hanging up her coat and following Melinda into the lounge, which had scrubbed up surprisingly well. "Well, aren't you a picture. Howard seems smitten with you from what he says." She smiles nostalgically, then wanders into the kitchen. The smile immediately leaves Melinda's face, and she rolls her eyes in Vince's direction, sighing, whilst Bollo has been apprehended and is enduring the same greeting and hugs forced upon him, though he looks a little surprised to find himself being embraced by an old lady.
Howard, who has been juggling various pots and trays, as well as warming some plates in the oven, looks nothing short of flustered, when his Mum begins to enquire as to where Naboo and his lovely girlfriend were, because she'd apparently heard loads about them as well.
When everybody finally sits down to dinner, which is a mountainous affair of turkey, peas, carrots, parsnips, stuffing, nut roast, cranberry jelly and copious amounts of gravy, its is gone four in the afternoon, but Nora has still not stopped talking, and was in the middle of telling how, when she was younger, they had to kill, pluck, cook and eat a turkey all on the same day.
"Oh just look at me, prattling on when we're meant to be eating! Howard, you've done me proud! Your father would be so pleased for you, and Mel, god rest him." She dabbed at her eyes, and then dug into the meal heartily.
Vince felt cornered. Everyone else was eating. Scoffing. It would only be so long befor-
"Vince dear, get eating. You're all skin and bone! Howard's so worrie-"
"Mum!" Howard spluttered.
"Sorry…I'd better explain. Howard's been telling me about your...problems. I sympathize, you know." She smiled, meaning well. Melinda looked up, nonplussed, fixing Howard with a cold gaze. Vince glared with equal venom. He politely excused himself and strode into the kitchen, feeling strangely betrayed. There was no sign of anyone following him. Good. In the midst of Christmas day stress, the knives had been forgetfully left in the drawer. Picking one up, Vince had already rolled up one of his sleeves when the door creaked open.
"Vince..." Howard's voice was weak. "What the fuck are you doing?"
DUNDUNDURRRRRN!
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