Here it is 2019 and I’m doing one last blahg this evening before the newness of the first day wears off.
Today is January 1st, 2019 and I’ve changed this picture of myself using one I took with an application on my phone called Sketch Camera. I think it looks cool. I was just playing around with it and I think I might have been on the toilet or something because I don’t appear to have a shirt on. That might be a theme for this blahg if you read on.
How do you start off a New Year? I know there is one thing I’ve always wanted to do and that’s a Polar Dip. That’s where you go swimming in a large cold body of water on New Year’s day. I always said I was going to do it but kept coming up with excuses and last year I was sick. So, this had to be my year. Seize it and freeze it. I drove out with my daughter Abbie to North Beach on the Lake Ontario side in beautiful Prince Edward County and did the deed. Here’s the proof:
Thanks to my daughter Abbie for taking the video. She was a little sick and didn’t think it would be a good idea to go in the water but she did stick her toe in. She also didn’t think it was a good idea that I go in because she’d heard about other older people who had heart attacks trying the plunge. Hey, I’m only 56! Last year I ended up in the Emergency ward at the local hospital on Christmas Day with a throat infection. You can read about it in my blahg “BEING SICK ON CHRISTMAS IS NO FUN…BUT HERE WE GO“. This year I didn’t add New Year’s day to that bucket list.
The other thing I managed to accomplish was to finish a late Christmas story. In a December blahg “SOME CHRISTMAS STORIES” I published a story called “Billy Built A Robot Christmas Morning.” I also said I was working on a sequel. Well, last night I finished it and this evening I finished the final edit. I guess you could say it was a two year effort. Get it? Two years? 2018 and 2019? Skip it. The story’s better. Happy New Year.
BILLY’S BEST WORST CHRISTMAS EVER
by
Scott Henderson
This is the story of Billy but it’s not really his first story. Let me be clear I’m the author and I’m the one writing this story. I felt I needed to say that because I’m not sure if Billy is a good character or if he’s redeemable or worth redeeming. That’s what this story will determine.
We first met Billy in a story I wrote entitled “Billy Built A Robot Christmas Morning.” I guess he was about nine or ten. I never really gave it any thought. He wasn’t really likeable although I liked the story I wrote. But I’ve been thinking about Billy lately. I got to wondering how he turned out.
I was getting my hair cut not that long ago and I heard two women discussing what you get a 14 year old for Christmas. There were comments about it being a tough age and everything is electronic and gift options were limited. Really? I would think a good swift kick in the pants might be a good option. That last comment, like the good swift kick, should be aimed squarely at Billy.
Let me be clear, I don’t dislike 14 year olds or teenagers in that age range. I don’t even dislike Billy. I just think that all the stories today are about teenagers who get to save the world, as if there weren’t some more suitable older or even senior adults able to do that, or the teens are lost and struggling and you’re not really sure if they’re likeable or capable of redemption. I just would like to know where Billy fits into all of this. He’s going to be 14 in this story and we’ll see what happens.
So, I’m going to give Billy one more chance. He could be a good character but that’s up to him. When you have nothing to lose then you have everything to gain. I didn’t make that up. I’m just remembering that from somewhere. But that fits Billy. Let’s find out.
—————
Billy came home from school on at the start of his Christmas vacation on December 22nd to find a note pinned to the door of his home:
Billy, we’ve gone away for Christmas and we’ve taken Logan with us. Everything you need is at Grandma at Grandpa Thompson’s. Don’t try the door because it’s locked and we’ve armed the alarm with a new code.
Merry Christmas.
Mom & Dad
All Billy could think to say was “they took Logan?” Logan was his dog. Well, it was more the family dog. Billy had whined long and hard about having a dog and when his parents gave in, like they always did, he got a beagle for no particular occasion.
Billy was good with Logan in the beginning and did his best to feed him and walk him and clean up after him but when that became too much for him, or more to the point Billy lost interest, Mom and Dad provided for Logan. But still, “they took Logan?” What was that all about? They went away for Christmas and they took the family dog and left Billy behind?
Of course, I could tell you what that was all about. I am the author after all. Simply put, Mom and Dad had had enough…not with caring for Logan but with Billy not caring at all.
Billy tried the door. It was locked. He wondered if he should try his key. Maybe that part about changing the alarm code wasn’t true. He decided against that. No, this seemed all too real but he thought he’d better look around a bit.
Billy pressed his face up against the window in the door. He couldn’t see anything. It wasn’t dark but his view was only of the entrance hall and there was nothing there. He tried the living room window. Nothing there either. Oh, he could see the Christmas tree and all of the decorations but no sign of Mom and Dad.
“This makes no sense,” he said aloud to no one in particular. It really didn’t make any sense as far as he was concerned. Throughout the month of December his parents had been fools about Christmas. The decorations and the lights came out early and the tree went up and the holiday specials annoyed Billy for the whole month. Of course Billy had nothing to do with any of it. He shook his head at all that holiday nonsense. It had been too much for him and he had retreated to the sanctity of his room and his video games.
Of course, you and I can see it plainer than Billy. His Mom and Dad had tried to make a Christmas but Billy didn’t want to be a part of it. He wanted Christmas day and the presents and the dinner and that was it. No wonder Mom and Dad had split with Logan.
“What about the presents and the dinner?” Billy was getting good at talking to himself.
Mom had been baking all month and there had been cookies and squares and tarts and all kinds of things that Billy did indulge enjoy. He didn’t help bake anything but he really liked sampling them. He always ignored his mother’s pleas to “leave those alone” or “save some for others” or “you’ll spoil your dinner.” It was like a game to Billy. He never thought his mother was really upset. That was just what mothers do or say. The truth is that’s what Billys do or say. And Billys never think. But boy was he thinking now.
“Grandma and Grandpa’s?” His utterings would have been comical to anyone walking by who heard this all coming from a 14 year old boy with his nose pressed against the living room window of a house that was armed and alarmed by owners who took their dog and left for Christmas and left their son to Grandma and Grandpa.
“Grandma and Grandpa’s?” he asked himself again. It was a fate worse than death. They had no internet and no cable television. They had rabbit ears and got three channels and one of those was public broadcasting. Public broadcasting, Billy thought, was for toddlers and old people. He wasn’t any of those. “Great, more Christmas specials,” he said to the window. Billy thought that with his parents gone he’d at least dodge that bullet. He called that wrong.
Grandma and Grandpa’s house was on the other side of town. It was a long walk and it would not help much with Billy’s mood. Maybe they’d be gone too. Maybe there’d be another note pinned to the door passing him on to other relatives until he came full circle back to his own home and it would all have been a cruel joke and his parents with Logan would be there to greet him.
No such luck. Grandma and Grandpa were home.
“Your parents dropped off what they thought you needed. We put everything up in the spare room,” Grandma said. “Oh, and they left this note.”
Great, another note, Billy thought. Here’s where the gag would be revealed and they’d all have a good laugh…at his expense. Again, no such luck.
Billy, listen to Grandma and Grandpa. Their house, their rules. We have left you no electronics. Don’t even try your phone. We’ve cancelled your plan. No texts, no data, no calls. Don’t forget to wear your boots.
Merry Christmas.
Mom & Dad
Billy reeled with the horror. He tried his phone. Nothing worked. Emergency Service only. Would 911 consider his plight an emergency? He dashed up the stairs to the spare room. The note didn’t lie. There were no electronics. No game consoles. No hand-held game systems. No tablet, no laptop. But there were boots.
“I’m not wearing those,” he said to the room. Surprisingly, the room didn’t answer.
The next day, Billy wore the boots.
It had been a rough night. He had pressed Grandma and Grandpa for answers but they gave none. All they would say was that he was there for Christmas and they’d see about New Year’s. Nothing about Mom and Dad and Logan and his cancelled Christmas. Nothing about the presents and the dinner. Nothing about anything. He had hid out in the room. The blankets were wool and itched. Oh, and it snowed.
Overnight the landscape had turned to white and Billy’s expensive running shoes were useless. Two feet of snow and climbing.
“Doesn’t beat the seven feet of snow they had in Buffalo a few years ago,” Grandpa said as he shook Billy awake the next morning.
“What?” was all Billy could manage at seven o’clock. His eyes were hardly open and the room was too cold. “Why do old people always like it so cold”, he thought. He knew better that to at least say that out loud.
“Shovelling first,” Grandpa went on, “and then Breakfast and then shopping. Get a move on.” Grandpa whipped off the blankets before flipping on the lights and leaving the room.
“Could this get any worse?” Billy said to the room. The room was a good listener. It was not much on small talk but it didn’t laugh at him for talking to himself.
Billy struggled out of the bed and into his clothes. At least his parents had provided him with what seemed like enough clothes for a long stay. And he put on the boots and a toque and gloves and a scarf. All provided courtesy of his parents. Bundled that way, no one would recognize him. At least he had his anonymity to cling to if he wanted it…oh and he wanted it.
“This is my grandson, Billy, and he’s going to shovel your driveway. Merry Christmas.” Grandpa didn’t know anything about anonymity.
Not only did Billy have to shovel Grandma and Grandpa’s driveway but they insisted on introducing him to every elderly neighbor on the block and extending them the courtesy of Billy’s free labor. Billy wasn’t one for good deeds but Grandpa kept an eye him until everything was done. Five driveways and aching arms later, it was time for breakfast.
“Oatmeal, there’s nothing like it on a cold morning,” Grandma said as she spooned out a good sized bowl’s worth. Billy glared at it. There was no sugar. The milk was skim or non-fat or something he’d rather avoid. At least they let him have some coffee. It was too strong. There was no sugar. The milk was skim or non-fat…you get the drift.
This was really shaping up to be an awful holiday for Billy. First, no Christmas and now no sugar and some liquid that passed almost as white water. At least he had the shopping to look forward to. He had some money on him and maybe he could buy himself something to make it all passable.
They drove to the Bulk House. Everything was in bulk. Grandma and Grandpa bought fifty rolls each of paper towels and toilet paper. Oh, but there were vegetables. Billy had to heft a fifty pound sack of potatoes out to the car. That didn’t include the 20 pounds of carrots or the big bag of onions. Billy had to huddle in the back with groceries. Grandpa said his summer tires were in the trunk.
That evening, dinner consisted of fish with, you guessed it, boiled potatoes, carrots, and onions. The evening also consisted of watching a Christmas movie with Grandma and Grandpa. They insisted. It was A Christmas Carol. Of course it would be. This story is about redemption and what better tale happens at Christmas about redemption than Ebenezer Scrooge’s own? I don’t mean to hit the reader over the head with this but I thought that Billy might need some poking.
The next morning, being the day before Christmas, Billy did indeed wake to some poking. It was Grandpa again.
“Up and at ‘em, boy, it snowed another foot in the night. You know the routine. Shoveling first, then breakfast, then shopping.” Grandpa jerked the covers back again before leaving the room.
“What time does he even get up?” Billy muttered. Again, the room had no response.
Five more driveways plus Grandma and Grandpa’s. Breakfast was fried potatoes and toast. The margarine was cheap and hard. It tore the toast. Billy flavored his semi-milk with some coffee this time. It wasn’t a welcomed change.
Shopping consisted of another trip back to the Bulk House. This time it was just Grandpa and Billy. They did not go inside. Grandpa bought a Christmas tree from the man who sold them at a corner of the parking lot. There was some haggling between Grandpa and the vendor. Billy tried to hide among the pre-cut forest. Apparently this was a ritual for Grandma and Grandpa. They waited until the 24th before buying their tree. At least Billy didn’t have to suffer that too much.
Billy, however, did suffer. He counted his scratches. Guess who had to help lift it on the roof and drag it in the house and crawl underneath the tree and help balance it in the stand until Grandma declared it was perfect? Not Grandpa, I can tell you that.
You know I hate to see anyone suffer; especially at Christmas. I’d like to say I take no joy in seeing my boy Billy suffer but I don’t want to lie to you reader. Billy has to suffer. Without the suffering there’s no motivation for change. After all, haven’t I caused him enough anguish by cancelling his Christmas and packing him off to his Grandparents and then having him break his back with a shovel only to suffer yet another fruitless trip to the Bulk House where he got nothing for himself again except the scrapes he’s now counting? I thought the message of A Christmas Carol would have been plain enough for him. What’s it going to take?
After the tree decorating, Grandpa delighted in beating Billy twice at Cribbage. Billy hadn’t played in years and Grandpa made sure to collect all of the points for himself that Billy missed in error.
“Your head’s not in the game, boy,” Grandpa stated after the second defeat. At least Billy was only skunked in the second game. The first game had ended in a double skunk with Grandpa declaring that Billy should study harder in school because math obviously wasn’t his strong suit if he couldn’t realize what cards added up to fifteen.
Billy escaped. After the game he wore the boots again and trudged down the block to the corner store. Grandma had sent him there twice the day before for bread and then the watered down milk. Not only did she forget to stalk up on these when she was at the Bulk House, she couldn’t even remember everything she needed so she wouldn’t have to send him out more than once.
This time, Billy went for himself. He still had his money. He bought a soda and rejoiced in the sugar. He eyed the magazines but found he was not old enough for some and the others were nothing he’d care to read. Your corner store doesn’t usually stock in the latest gamer magazines.
While Billy was enjoying the sweetness of the soda he thought about the lack of sugar at Grandma and Grandpa’s. He bought some sugar cubes, a carton of good milk possibly 50 proof, and some coffee creamer. Given the exorbitant prices at the corner store, Billy soon found his spending money well depleted. He bought a Christmas bag with his loose change. He’d put the sugar, milk, and creamer in that and that would be his gift to his Grandparents.
Dinner was cabbage and pork-roll. Oh yes, and baked potatoes and more carrots.
The movie that night was “It’s A Wonderful Life.” It had been a while since Billy had sat through it in its entirety.
Billy lay awake long into the night. You would think that redeeming thoughts of histories of his youth or a life lived by others without him or visions of sugar plums at the very least would have been dancing in his head. No, instead he thought of this Christmas lived without him. Mom and Dad and Logan were probably on some beach somewhere or at some mountain resort thinking of anything but Billy. He began to wallow in his own misery. He piled on everything from the cancelled Christmas to the pine needles he had had to shake from his hair. Grandpa had said that wouldn’t have happened if Billy got a haircut once in a while.
Billy finally drifted off to sleep feeling thoroughly sorry for himself and wondering what type of potato would greet him for Christmas dinner…if there was a Christmas dinner.
The room was very warm when he awoke. No one had whisked away the covers. He had kicked them off himself. And it was still dark.
Billy looked about the room. There was a glow from the street light but he could only see shadows in the room.
“Hey room, Merry Christmas,” Billy called out in the dark. It was meant as sarcasm.
“Merry Christmas yourself Billy,” the room replied.
Billy bolted up in the bed. He reached over and turned on the lamp beside his bed. The light was suddenly too bright in the close darkness. Eventually the shadows became blurs and then shadows again and then he saw it…saw him…Santa Claus
“Merry Christmas Billy,” Santa said.
Billy rubbed his eyes. No, this couldn’t be. He closed his eyes tight for a few seconds and then opened them again. It was no use. He was still there. And it was Santa. Billy knew this right off. It wasn’t Grandpa or anyone else dressed up like Santa. It was the real Santa.
Billy looked Santa over. Red suit and real beard. He looked just like a thousand images of Santa he had seen in print or on television or in the movies. The image was immediately recognizable and true to his own memories of what he thought Santa looked like. Not that Billy ever thought of Santa Claus these days. That was kids’ stuff.
“Merry Christmas Billy”, Santa said again.
“You said that already,” Billy pointed out. Billy didn’t mean to be flippant but what do you say to Santa when he shows up in the middle of the night at your grandparents’ house after you’d been dreaming of your thoroughly miserable Christmas.
“And would it kill you to say it back?” Santa asked. Apparently Santa was not opposed to being flippant.
“Merry Christmas,” Billy replied, “but you can’t be…” Billy trailed off what he was going to say. Why couldn’t he be Santa Claus? Nothing else that had happened to him lately made any sense.
“Oh, but I can be and I am.” Santa looked around the room. “What, no cookies and milk?”
“I’m not a kid you know”, Billy found himself answering. “That stuff’s just for kids.” Again it was the kids’ stuff guiding his thoughts. Substitute Bah Humbug and you will understand what Billy was getting at.
“The cookies aren’t for the kids, they’re for me. I’m for the kids. But I’m not just for children Billy. I came because you need me.” Santa shook a mittened hand in Billy’s direction.
“I don’t need anything”, Billy replied in defiance. “I’ve got everything I need.” Billy shook his own hand back at Santa.
“No Christmas, potatoes galore, scratched up arms, and pine needles in your hair. I guess you do have everything.” Santa was good at stating the obvious.
Billy ran his fingers through his hair. It was true. There were still some pine needles clinging to his scalp. At least he could thank Santa for that.
“You see Billy, you really don’t have anything. Listening to me might just change that. When you have nothing to lose then you have everything to gain.” Santa sat down on the bed. “I heard that somewhere and it bears repeating.” Told you so, reader.
Billy couldn’t think of anything to say. Santa was right…on all accounts.
“You once needed me Billy and I used to come to you every year. You were always a delight when you were sleeping. Still are. I bet your parents would say that about you now. It’s the waking times that need a little polishing.”
“Thanks a lot Santa,” Billy snapped.
“It’s only the truth. Don’t blame the messenger,” Santa replied without buying into Billy’s anger. “Then you grew up. You thought you knew it all. You didn’t want anything. Or if you did, your parents gave it to you. I blame them for expelling me from your life. What do you need me for after they break the illusion? Still, you didn’t have to buy into it all and let it run your life.”
“I thought you said I needed you?” Billy asked. The sarcasm was creeping back in.
“You do. You did and then you didn’t and now you do.”
Billy looked confused.
“It’s like this”, Santa continued. “When you are little you need the magic and the wonder and I’m there for that. When you got older you didn’t need that anymore or maybe you didn’t want it. But boy do you need it now.” Santa was shaking his hand at Billy again. “You’ve lost something and it isn’t just this Christmas. You’ve lost all your Christmases. You gave them up. Thought you didn’t need them. There’s an emptiness in you that you can’t find a way to fill. No video game’s going to give you back that.”
Billy stared at Santa. He had cut Billy to the core; only because it was true. Santa was right. It wasn’t just this Christmas. Billy had walked away from all of that the first Christmas he didn’t get everything he wanted. The memory of not getting the Grim Reaper 4 video game came back to his mind. That was the morning he had built the robot. But that’s the other story.
Santa reached over to pat Billy on the arm. Billy thought about quickly pulling his arm away but he didn’t. Billy felt the touch. It was real. It was true. Everything Santa had said was true. There was truth in the words and Billy knew it. The truth was the one thing that Billy would never have thought to ask for but the one thing he needed most.
“Don’t think on it too much kid”, Santa went on. “I’ve given you a gift. It might not have been anything you wanted but sometimes it’s the things we need that are the best gifts received.”
Santa stood up and stood beside the bed for the moment looking into Billy’s eyes. He reached out to shut off the lamp. Just before he did he turned back to Billy and said “and that was a nice touch about the sugar cubes, milk, and creamer. Now go and find your own Christmas.” The light went out, the room grew colder, and Santa was gone.
Billy lay in the bed trembling for a long time. He wasn’t sure if it was the coldness of the room or what had just happened. He pulled up the blankets and hunkered down. He couldn’t be sure if what just happened really happened or if he’d been dreaming. Soon he slept again.
In the morning Billy woke to a strange sound. He didn’t recognize it right away. It was like bells in the distance and it stirred him. Church Bells? Christmas Bells? No, it was his phone. The chiming signified he had a message.
Billy snatched up his phone. It was working again. The service was back on. There were about a dozen texts from friends wondering where he was or what he got for Christmas or bragging about their own gifts. And there was a text from Mom and Dad:
Billy, there’s a gift for you at the house. We’ve disarmed the alarm and we’ve restored your phone service.
Merry Christmas.
Mom & Dad
Billy practically flew out of bed. It was Christmas and there was a gift. After dressing he ran down the stairs and called out to Grandma and Grandpa. They must have gone out or were sleeping in. He left his gift bag for them on the table. They’d find it.
Billy didn’t care that it was cold out or that it had snowed again. He was just glad he hadn’t been awoken by Grandpa hovering over him with a shovel. There was a spring back in Billy’s step and the walk home didn’t seem half as long as normal.
Billy tried his key in the lock. It opened. No alarm went off to spoil it all. But there was something. Billy smelled bacon. And there was music. Okay, it was Christmas music but he’d take that over alarms ringing. And then Logan was there jumping up at him. And Mom. And Dad.
“What?” Billy started. But it stuck in his throat.
“Merry Christmas son.” Dad was at his side pulling off Billy’s toque.
“Stamp that snow off your boots,” Mom said appearing in the hall with Grandma and Grandpa.
“Merry Christmas boy,” Grandpa said. “More snow hunh? Still, it doesn’t beat what they got in Buffalo a few years ago.”
“I know, seven feet of snow in Buffalo,” Billy replied. Billy found himself chuckling at what he said.
“You’re just in time for breakfast,” Grandma said. “Bacon and eggs and toast and waffles if you want them.”
“What, no hash browns or home-fried potatoes?” Billy asked. Billy gave off with another laugh.
“Thought you’d had your fill of potatoes?” Grandma replied.
But there were potatoes. Mashed potatoes with dinner. And turkey, And stuffing. And gravy. And just about everything that makes Christmas dinner Christmas dinner. And pie for desert. Mom’s apple and Grandma’s pumpkin. He hadn’t missed them.
Before dinner but after breakfast, there were presents. Billy hadn’t expected anything so no matter what he got, he thoroughly welcomed the presents. There was even the Grim Reaper 4 video game. Dad had found it in a retro game shop. Billy put it away. He didn’t need it right now.
In the afternoon he beat Grandpa two straight games of Cribbage. He loaded the dishwasher. He even walked Logan.
That night, Billy lay in bed and thought back on the day. He hadn’t even asked his parents what it had all been about. Had they been there the whole time? Should he have tried his key that day after school? He didn’t care. He had lost something and now he had got it back. He had found his Christmas.
Billy didn’t really know if Santa Claus had really come to him. It might have been too many potatoes or too many movies with Christmas spirts or angels. He couldn’t be sure.
“Merry Christmas room.” Billy waited for a reply. There was none and that was okay. Still, he wish he knew for sure.
The next year he took no chances and he hung up his stocking and left out cookies and milk. Logan ate them all.
The End.