Christmas Pt 1
There were no time Johnny liked better than Christmastime. Summer was awesome because you could swim in the crick down yonder; fall, with its chilly nights, falling leaves, and apple cider kicked major butt; and spring was top notch because the warmth and blossoming life felt really good after a long, cold winter. But there was something about Christmas that just couldn't be beaten. Was it the peace and good will to man? Was it the soft blanket of snow that covered everything after a storm? Was it the decorations, Christmas music, and family gatherings? It was all of those things...but it was also Santa.
Some people say that it is better to give than to receive. Well, Johnny didn't quite agree. He loved getting stuff. I mean, who doesn't? Sure, giving presents felt pretty darn good, but there was nothing like walking into your living room on Christmas morning and seeing all those presents tucked neatly under the tree. Man, talk about the most wonderful time of the year.
This time around, Johnny kicked off a month-long celebration by starting the advent calendar. He and Lincoln would alternate days opening a little door and retrieving a piece of chocolate until the big day arrived. Johnny kept the radio in his and Lincoln's room tuned to 95.9 which played continuous Christmas music from Thanksgiving to New Year's Day and drove everyone nuts. Dad had the nerve to call "Step into Christmas" by Elton John pure garbage while unironically liking Randy Savage's rap album. On December first, Johnny switched to wearing elaborately decorated bags colored red and green and covered in garland or blinking lights, and every day after school, he went over to the Loud house where he and Mr. Loud baked cookies and gingerbread men.
After pestering Dad for almost a week, he let Johnny put up the Christmas tree and hang lights outside the house.
This was his time to shine.
All year long, Johnny put little bits of money away in an envelope marked X-MAS and used it to buy his own decorations, since Mom and Dad liked to skimp. If he let them, they'd string a single strand of lights over the porch roof and be done with it.
Uh-uh.
Not on his watch.
At the end of November, he caught the bus to Wal-Mart and stocked up. With the two hundred from his X-mas fund, he bought a virtual cornucopia of festive dressings. On December 6, he dragged them out of the garage and set them up. A ten foot tall dancing Santa went up next to the mailbox, so everyone passing by could enjoy is happy ho, ho, hoing; red and white candy canes lined the walkway leading up to the porch; an inflatable snowman waved from one side of the pat, and ceramic elves happily frocllicked on the other; and garland, tinsel, lights, and Christmas ornaments trimmed every window, bump out, and railing.
It was beautiful.
He dragged Mom and Dad out to see it, so excited that he practically trembled, and they both paled. "Oh..my...God," Dad drew.
"Do you love it?" Johnny asked.
Mom shook her head as if to dispel the image in front of her. "Don't you think it's a, uh, a little much?"
No, for the record, he did not think it was a little much. You can never have too much Christmas cheer. Christmas cheer is, like, the greatest stuff ever. If you could bottle and sell it, Johnny would be a junkie. Cookies, Christmas carols, hot cocoa, chestnuts roasting on an open fire, Jack Frost nipping at your nose, the breathless wonder of listening for Santa's sleigh bells.
How could you ever have too much of that?
From that point on, he dubbed Dad "Scrooge" and Mom "Grinch." Dad sat in front of the TV and drank egg nog while binge watching every Starrcade, the NWA and then WCW's big December pay-per-view, and Mom sang "fa-la-la-la-la" as she baked peanut butter cookies with Hershey Kisses in the center, but despite this, they were both Christmas haters. Humph. At least Lincoln shared his enthusiasm.
"Dude, if I hear Last Christmas one more time, I'm gonna scream," Lincoln said through his teeth.
It was late afternoon on December eighth and sporadic snowflakes drifted from the sky. It was barely five'o'clock and already dark. Lincoln was kicked back on his bed with a comic in his lap and Johnny was sitting in front of the computer, nodding along to Wham! and playing Sky Whale. "But it's a classic," Johnny said.
"A classic piece of crap."
Johnny spun in his chair and fixed his brother with a baleful glare. A strand of garland came free from his bag and tickled his nose. He brushed it away and lowered his brows even more to compensate for the comical mishap. "Take that back."
Snapping his comic closed, Lincoln rocked forward on his knees. "Piece. Of. Crap."
That tore it. Johnny lunged at him and they both fell to the floor with a loud, house-shaking thud. Johnny grabbed the front of Lincoln's shirt and yanked in hopes of ripping it, and Lincoln responded by slapping Johnny's bag back and forth, knocking ornaments and silvery pieces of garland from it.
A shadow loomed over them and they both froze.
Some terrible thing with a black and red face mask was there. Johnny and Lincoln screamed in terror. "IT'S JASON!" Johnny cried. Lincoln rolled under his bed to hide and Johnny scrambled over his own bed, cowering in the corner.
The monster lifted its mask.
It was Jason, alright.
Jason Velazquest.
"You boys better knock it off," Dad said soberly. "If you wanna fight, you have to do it in the ring."
Ugh. That was enough to make Johnny a pacifist.
For fear of having to wrestle each other, thus giving Dad free entertainment, Johnny and Lincoln reached a compromise. Johnny would only listen to Christmas music on his phone (with ear buds), and Lincoln wouldn't bad mouth Wham! anymore.
At school, the paper turkeys and pilgrims gave way to snowflakes and Santas, and a sense of expectation hung in the air, gaining power every day. Everyone, even the principal, was in good cheer, and the excitement was freaking palpable. Every day lasted a lifetime, and though Christmas was close enough to taste, it seemed forever away. Stella, his and Lincoln's gal-pal, was almost as excited as he was. Every day, she wore an elf hat and a different ugly Christmas sweater - each morning, Johnny hotly anticipated seeing what she was wearing that day. His favorite was the one covered in stitched, misspelled words. MARY CHRISMAS; NOL; SILINT NITE. Owing to the cold, Sid wore shirts that covered up her shoulders, and all the boys were disappointed.
"I cain't wait," Liam said one day, "y'all should come over. Have yourselves a real country Christmas."
On December tenth, a snowstorm blew in from the Plains and dumped nearly a foot of snow on the ground. After a single, glorious day of no school, the highway department plowed the roads and everything went on like normal, only with towering snowbanks everywhere. And God help you if you fell into one; you'd be lost for good.
In their off time, Lincoln, Johnny, Stella, Sid, and Liam walked around downtown looking at all the decorations. Wreaths adorned each of the wrought iron lampposts, lights trimmed the big plateglass windows of the barber shop and the pharmacy, and red kettle bell ringers dressed as Santa Claus shouted "Ho, ho, ho" from street corners. On the eleventh, Johnny and the others gathered at the toy store to gaze at the display in the front window. Lincoln marveled at a train set, Stella gawked at a junior chemistry set up, and Johnny...well, Johnny only had eyes for one thing.
"An official Red Ryder carbine action, 200-shot, range model air rifle with a compass in the stock and this thing that tells time," he told his family at dinner that night. He stabbed a piece of potato and shoved it into his mouth.
Mom and Dad exchanged an uneasy look. Dad quickly glanced away, his tacit way of leaving the decision up to Mom. Stricken, Mom opened and closed her mouth like a fish. "Uh...that...no, it's too dangerous. You'll...you'll shoot your eye out."
Johnny's heart dropped. "No, I won't," he said quickly. "C'mon, Mom, I'm really responsible. You know that."
Dad snorted.
Go watch grown men having fake fights, Johnny thought but did not say. Mom took a deep breath and steeled her resolve. "No. G-Guns are dangerous."
"But -"
"I won't hear anymore about this."
Her tone was firm, her mind made up.
Was crushed too strong a word to use in this instance? Because that's what Johnny was. Crushed. Though he didn't even know official Red Ryder carbine action, 200-shot, range model air rifles existed until a few hours ago, he'd wanted one his whole life...he just didn't realize it until he saw it in the window, all smooth and sleek and awesome looking.
There was no use in persuading Mom to change her mind so, yeah, his hopes were dashed.
If only he hadn't blown all his money on stupid stuff like dancing Santas and light up Rudolphs.
Actually, no, that Rudolph was legit, he was glad he bought that.
Dejected, Johnny dragged himself away from the table to sulk. He lay in bed listening to Christmas music and aching for his beloved air rifle. Paul McCartney sang Simply Having a Wonderful Christmastime and Johnny sniffed.
Not me, Paul.
Not me at all.
The next day, Johnny and Lincoln walked to school along the narrow path where the sidewalk used to be. Sheer snow walls flanked them on either side and a bitter wind skimmed the surface, sending swirls of white dancing across front lawns like exuberant phantoms. Johnny had his ear buds in and nodded absently along to Andy Williams. The depression of the previous night had given way to hardy resolve. He was going to get that air rifle one way or another.
Someone slapped the back of his head and he turned just as Ronnie Anne Santiago pushed her way between him and Lincoln. "Hey lame-o," she said to Lincoln. To Johnny: "Hey, lamest."
Johnny rolled his eyes. "Ronnie."
"Ready for Krampus?" she asked.
Lincoln raised one eyebrow. "Isn't that a band?"
"No, you're thinking of Krokus," Johnny pointed out. "You know, the band on Maggie's shirt?"
"Oh, right."
Ronnie Anne looked between them. "You guys don't know who Krampus is?"
They both shook their heads.
"Krampus is like the anti-Santa Claus. He comes on December fifteenth every year and kidnaps all the bad kids. Then he eats them."
Johnny swallowed hard and Lincoln's face went as white as his hair. "That's not true," Johnny said.
"Oh, yes it is," Ronnie Anne said. "Remember Billy Mason?"
Billy Mason was a bully who terrorized literally everyone. One day last year, he just dropped out of sight. The rumor mill said he went to juvie. Johnny said as much but Ronnie Anne waved him off. "Krampus got him, and if you're not careful, he'll get you too."
At the time, Johnny laughed it off, but that night, in the darkness, he wondered. What if she was telling the truth? What if Krampus was real?
When Lincoln spoke, Johnny started. "You don't...you don't think Ronnie Anne was being serious, do you?"
"Of course not," Johnny said with a confidence that he didn't really feel. "She was messing with us."
He hoped.
The next day, Ms. Johnson assigned the class an essay. What I Want for Christmas and Why.
Oh, boy, Johnny thought, this was his big chance to lobby for an official Red Ryder carbine action, 200-shot, range model air rifle. Passion gripped him, and he banged out the entire 500 word paper over lunch. He turned it in with a beam. "Wow, Johnny," Ms. Johnson said, "you are the first one to get their essay back to me. I'll grade it tonight."
Cash money.
After school let out, Johnny cruised on over to the Loud house. Mr. Loud was standing on the porch roof and pinning lights to the overhang while Lana held the ladder in anticipation of him coming down. "Hey, Mr. Loud," Johnny called. "Need some help?"
Mr. Loud jumped at the sound of Johnny's voice and lost his balance. He started to fall, flapped his arms like a big, featherless bird, and tumbled over the side. Johnny winced but instead of the bone breaking calamity he expected, Mr. Loud landed in the snow with a soft pfft. Johnny and Lana both ran over and helped him to his feet. "You alright?" Johnny worried.
"Fine," Mr. Loud said woozily. His knees buckled and he almost fell.
Johnny and Lana helped him inside. After sitting in front of the fire with a mug of hot cocoa, he revived enough that he and Johnny were able to bake brownies. They wore matching pink aprons and taliked; Johnny told him about how much he wanted an official Red Ryder carbine action, 200-shot, range model air rifle and even admitted to being a little unsettled by Krampus. "It's not real," he said with a nervous laugh, "but, you know…"
"I know a mean little boy who disappeared too," Mr. Loud said. "Around Christmas time. They found hoof marks in the snow outside his window." He shuddered at the memory.
Heh.
Surely there was a logical explanation…
"His neighbors said they heard him screaming. I'll be good! I'll be good!"
Now Johnny was terrified.
While Mr. Loud finished off dinner. Johnny helped the Loud girls decorate. Lori stood on a wobby kitchen chair and hung lights; Lana and Lisa trimmed the tree; Luna and Luan placed electric candles in the windows; and Lucy attempted to commune with the Ghost of Christmas Future. Johnny was stoking the fire when Lola came over. "Johnny?"
"Yes?"
She curled her finger in a come hither gesture.
Johnny knelt.
Holding up a piece of mistletoe, Lola pushd up on her tippy toes and pecked his cheek.
Uh…
K.
That night, Johnny dreamed of defending Mom, Dad, and Lincoln from bandits using his trusty official Red Ryder carbine action, 200-shot, range model air rifle. The next morning, he told Mom and Dad about it at breakfast, his voice rising with passion as he spoke. "We're sitting ducks, but with an official Red Ryder carbine action, 200-shot, range model air rifle, we can repel any invasion."
Dad ignored him and Mom rubbed her temples. "Dude, they said no," Lincoln said. "Just cope."
Johnny shot him a dirty look. I'll deal with you later, he mouthed.
All was forgotten by the time they left for school ten minutes later; Johnny was already thinking about the epic grade he was going to get for that masterpiece of an essay he wrote for Ms. Johnson. When the time came, he sat giddily in his chair, waiting for her to give it back. She came over and laid it on his desk, and Johnny ripped it open.
F-.
F?
F?
Below was written five hateful words that sent spiraling into depression.
They were: You'll shoot your eye out.
Dashed.
His dreams were dashed.
Yet again.
Later on, in the kitchen with Mr. Loud, Johnny hung his head and drew a watery sigh. I'm never going to get an official Red Ryder carbine action, 200-shot, range model air rifle," he lamented.
"You can always ask Santa Claus," Mr. Loud said.
That's it! The big guy himself! Santa would come through for him.
Mr. Loud left the kitchen and Johnny carried the brownies to the dining room. In the archway, Lucy stopped him. "Johnny?"
"Yeah?"
She pointed upward.
Johnny looked.
Mistletoe hung overhead.
Lucy kissed his cheek and Johnny smiled through the pain.
That night, the wind moaned, and Johnny was sure he heard someone walking around in the front yard, snow crunching underfoot. "I hear it too," Lincoln breathed when he looked at him.
Was it…
...krampus?
No! It couldn't be! He and Lincoln had been good this year. Sure, they both had tiny missteps here and there, but who doesn't? They were only human, after all.
But was that enough to stop Krampus? The kind of guy to eat kids - bad or not - isn't likely to be the kind who's exactly fair. His bloodlust might lead him to sprint away even good kids. Johnny voiced his concerns to Lincoln and Lincoln agreed. "We have to take precautions," Johnny said.
Tomorrow was the fifteenth, the day Krampus struck.
That night, they slept in shifts. They would put up stronger defenses tomorrow.
In the morning, Johnny donned a paper bag colored red and green and covered in snowflake stickers, and walked to school with Lincoln. "Santa will listen for sure," he said.
"I dunno, dude," Lincoln replied, "will Santa bring you something Mom and Dad specifically said they didn't want you to have?"
Johnny stopped.
He didn't think of that.
But what other choice did he have? He would just have to try.
After school, he and Lincoln went downtown to O'Leary's Department Store, a three story ode to consumerism stationed on the corner of Main and Union. Christmas music played over the speakers and decorations adorned every conceivable surface. Santa's Village was set up on the second floor with a slide leading back to the first floor. When Santa was done hearing each kid's wish, they went down the slide and landed in a bank of fluffy cotton. Lincoln and Johnny waited in line for almost an hour inching their way up a set of stairs. When they finally got to the top, a surly man in an elf consume picked Lincoln up and sat him on Santa's lap. "HO! HO! HO!" Santa screamed.
Lincoln freaked out.
Santa waved him off and his elves sat Lincoln on the slide. Next up was Johnny. The elf grabbed him by the hand and yanked him toward Santa, knocking his bag off his head. He reached for it. "My b -"
"Come on, kid," the elf spat, "let's get this over with."
They sat him on Santa's lap. "HO! HO! HO! What do you want for Christmas, little boy?"
Johnny didn't miss a beat. "I want an official Red Ryder carbine action, 200-shot, range model air rifle."
For a long second, Santa simply stared at him.
Then he said those Five Dread Words.
"You'll shoot your eye out."
Throwing his head back, Johnny let out a Big No and the elves picked him up and pushed him down the slide. He was broken, destroyed, dead inside.
Then he remembered Krampus.
Nothing reminds you that you're alive like being pants-poopingly terrified.
At home, he and Lincoln met in their room. "We need to get ready," Lincoln said, "Krampus is coming tonight."
Before going to bed, they rigged a number of booby traps, including a full paint can tied to a string and positioned to fall in a killing arc when the door was opened. They dumped jacks on the floor, set up a bunch of mousetraps, and created a contraption that shot fire, which they pointed at the door. They lay awake in bed for a long time, listening for the dreaded sound of Krampus's approach. Finally, thin, fitful sleep stole over Johnny. Sometime later, he came away to the telltale creak of the hinges on the bedroom door. His heart shot into his throat and his breath caught with a raspy gasp.
Creeeeeeeeeak
The door opened, admitting a wedge of light from the hall. A giant, darkened figure filled the frame, and Johnny's eyes widened with terror.
Krampus.
The paint can swung from its perch and crashed into Krampus, knocking him aside. The flamethrower sparked, and a jet of fire spewed from the barrel, scorching Krampus, who stumbled back and forth, yelling and screaming. Lincoln sat up and hurriedly snapped the light on. Krampus tripped over the paint can and crashed to the floor. For a moment, he was immobile, then he got to his knees.
"Dad?"
It wasn't Krampus at all.
Dad's face was blackened and his eyebrows singed. A huge knot on the side of his head marked the spot where the paint can had whacked him.
Using the bed for support, Dad pushed himself to his feet, stumbled, and nearly fell. "What are you doing here?" Lincoln demanded.
"Nothing," Dad said quickly. "I was just...going to steal from your piggy bank. That's all."
Lincoln and Johnny both crossed their arms. Their dad was a lot of things, but a thief was not one of them.
Dad nervously rubbed the back of his neck. "I was...I was going to kiss goodnight, okay?"
That came out like kidney stones and Dad flushed with embarrassment.
"You were gonna do what?" Johnny asked.
"Since when do you do that?" Lincoln asked incredulously.
"Every night," Dad said without hesitation. "I give you each a kiss on the forehead."
Oh.
Johnny didn't know to feel about that. He loved his parents, but yuck, kisses. What was he, a baby? Another part of him was kind of touched.
They all awkwardly looked at each other. "I'll just come back later," Dad finally said, "and when I do, all these booby traps better be gone. Why are they here anyway?"
"Krampus," Johnny said.
"Yeah, he's going to get us," Lincoln added.
Dad issued a long suffering sigh and looked like he wanted to say something, but instead, he just shook his head and left.
That night, Krampus did not come, meaning Lincoln and Johnny were on the nice list.
Cash money.
On Christmas Eve, the Louds, the Velazquests, and assorted friends gathered at the Loud house for a festive holiday celebration. Christmas music played from a stereo in a corner, a fire roared in the hearth, and the warm smell of baking filled the air. Lincoln and Maggie hung out by the punch bowl, Lori and Leni chatted with a group of their friends, Ronnie Anne crossed her arms listened impatiently to Lisa explain why"Latinx" was a better term than Latina, Liam and Sid bobbed for apples, Mom and Mrs. Loud drank eggnog, and Stella put on a puppet show for Lily, who clapped and laughed at the silly antics.
"Johnny?"
Johnny turned around, like one does when their name is called, and Lana waggled her eyebrows.
"Look up."
Oh, no, not this again.
A giant mistletoe dangled from the ceiling.
Sighing, Johnny let her kiss his cheek, then he went and stood somewhere else, making darn sure there was absolutely no mistletoe around.
Done with Ronnie Anne, Lisa came over. "Excuse me, Johnny, but I could not help but noticing the presence of Phoradendron serotinum."
Johnny had never heard those words in his life but he was smart enough to figure out what they meant. "There is no mistletoe here," Johnny said smugly and crossed his arms.
"Actually," Lisa said and adjusted her glasses, "there is." She nodded to his bag.
A tiny sprig of mistletoe was taped to the top. Lincoln smirked at him across the room and Johnny balled his fist. "Real funny," he called.
Lincoln and Maggie both laughed.
Johnny let Lisa kiss his cheek.
Later on, in bed, Johnny waited up to hear Santa's sleigh, but the weariness of the day overtook him, and he drifted peacefully off to sleep, visions of sugarplums dancing in his head.
He couldn't wait to see what tomorrow brought.