Christmas Addictions

No one’s riding their bike in a hundred degree weather while blasting Christmas music from speakers strapped to their bike in the middle of August unless they’re having a life crisis or they’re addicted to Christmas music. I’m not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing, but I’m the latter.

I got about halfway through my Christmas music playlist—so around ninety minutes—when a white van pulled up next to me, cruising at the same speed as my bike. I freaked out and pedaled faster, but I was racing a gas-powered vehicle so this probably wasn’t going to end well for me.

The van’s doors slid open and two pairs of hands grabbed my shirt, then yanked me off my bike and into the van. Instantly, the doors closed. Darkness enveloped me. I thrashed around as the hands tried to calm me. “Let me go!” I screamed.

One of the hands got too close to my mouth and I bit it. “Ow!” My kidnappers flicked the lights on—the Christmas lights on. Dozens of them were strung along the walls of the van. “Hey, hey, hey…” A girl about my age in a red cheesy reindeer Christmas sweater. “Just calm down.”

“Who are you people??” I said, staring at my other two Christmas-sweater-wearing captors. The tall one had a Santa themed sweater and the acne-faced one had a gingerbread one. “We’re the ghosts of Christmas future, present, and past.”

“What?”

Reindeer girl laughed. “Ha! No. But I wish. I’m Redolph.”

“Ginger Snap,” said the acne-faced kidnapper.

“Santa Man.”

“Together, known only to a select, trusted, few...” Redolph said, gesturing to the three of them, “We are the secret society known as… The Christmas Protectors.” With a whisper, she added, “with our driver, Chris Kringle.”

“It’s just Chris!” The driver called out.

“We were watching you. And we know you’re a true fan of Christmas,” Santa Man said.

“Watching me?? For how long?”

“Since Main Street,” Chris said. “You were blasting that Christmas music pretty loud.”

“Okay, what do you want?” I asked.

“For you to join us,” Ginger Snap said.

“What? Why would I do that?”

“Because Christmas is in danger!” Redolph cried.

“Well,” Santa Man said, “it’s really the giant Christmas tree we're going to erect at midnight tonight that’s in danger. We need help making sure the Christmas haters,” he sneered, “don’t ruin it.”

“So are you in?” Redolph asked. She placed a hand on my shoulder. “Person who I kidnapped and I don’t know the name of, can we count on you to protect Christmas?”

“I—I guess?”

“Great.” Redolph pulled out a sweater with a snowman on it out of thin air and handed it to me. “Your new codename is… uhh… ideas, fellas?”

“Ice Pops.”

The van slid to the halt. Before I knew it, Ginger Snap opened the doors and Redolph shoved me out. “Meet at ten o’clock at townsquare. Don’t be late.”

She closed the doors.

Then opened it. “Oh and if a bunch of people in matching sweaters try to kidnap you and get you to join their masterplan, don’t trust them. They’re our enemies,” Redolph said.

“I mean, who does that?” Ginger Snap said. “That’s crazy.”

“Totally. Well, toodles.” Yet again, Redolph slammed the doors closed and the van sped off.

What in jingle hell just happened here.

And where’s my bike?

***

The second time I was kidnapped that day (because it happened again!!), it was a black van that rolled to a halt outside my house as I tucked my bike (that I finally found) in my garage. Three preppy looking people in matching argyle sweaters hopped out and ran over to me. The buff one—that nearly tore her sweater every time she moved—scooped me up like a stray kitten and chucked me into the van. 

Here we go again.

“So,” the guy with a limp mustache in a salmon pink sweater said. “You were approached by those Christmas addicts, huh?”

I hugged my snowman sweater defensively. “You could say that.”

The buff girl gave me a too-tight hug. She squeezed all the air out of my lungs. “It’s never too late for recovery.”

“From what? The trauma of being kidnapped off the street twice in the same day?” I said.

“From your addiction,” the third kid in a yellow sweater said.

“My what? Dude, I’m seventeen. I tried one sip of my parent’s absinthe on a dare and spent the rest of the night throwing up. That hardly makes me an addict.”

“Ducky meant your addiction to Christmas,” Salmon Sweater said.

“I’m?? Not?? Addicted to Christmas???” I said, confused.

“You were blasting Christmas music in the middle of August. You clearly have a problem. But it’s okay,” Buff Girl said. “My name is Green Gorilla. And we’re Christmas Addicts Anonymous. That’s Trout and Ducky. Like you, we were once part of the ‘Christmas Protectors’, before we realized how deep the addiction ran. So, we got clean and helped others get clean from their Christmas addictions, too.”

“We try to help kids like you before you fall in too deep with the addicts,” Ducky said. “Addiction is a serious disease, and we’re the cure. Any questions?”

“Yeah, one. How is everyone wearing sweaters in a hundred degree heat?”

“Sheer willpower.”

Green Gorilla pulled out a new purple sweater and handed it to. The van slowed down. She told me, “Remember, we’ll always be here to help you with your addiction. I hope we can see you wearing our sweater at town square, tonight at ten o’clock.”

And with that, the doors opened and I hopped off the van. “Wait, this isn’t my house…” Annnnndddd they were already gone. Oh, figgy pudding.

***

At ten o’clock that night, I did end up going to town square in the snowman sweater because…One: I love Christmas and am not willing to give it up. Two: the CAA called me an addict. Three: the CAA abandoned me in the middle of nowhere despite saying they wanted to ‘help’ me. Four: purple isn’t my color.

“Ice Pops,” Redolph said as she appeared in the shadows. “You made it. The CAA didn’t try anything did they?”

I held up the purple sweater. “They did.”

Redolph took it from me. “Not a big deal. We can always have a bonfire later and burn this. The others need help erecting the tree. Let’s get to work!”

You know, if I had known joining the Christmas Protectors would have involved manual labor, I would have just stayed home baking tree-shaped sugar cookies instead. 

Sweat dripped down my face. I gritted my teeth and pulled on the rope holding the tree up. “Pull!” Ginger Snap ordered. “We only have two hours to get this twenty-foot-tall son of Santa up and glowing.”

“Where did you even get a tree this big?” I grunted.

“Chris knows a dealer.”

“Oh, that’s interesting.”

Just as I thought my arms were gonna snap, a familiar voice echoed across town square. “Well, well, well, if it isn’t the Christmas addicts.”

The Christmas Addicts Anonymous' shoes clicked across the street. “And you, person whose name we never asked, I’m disappointed in you,” Trout said.

“It’s Ice Pops!” Redolph said.

“I can’t believe you’d join them,” Green Gorilla said. “And I believed in you.”

“The only thing I believe in is Santa Claus!” I shouted back. Ooh, sweet silver bells, my arms really can’t take this kind of abuse.

“It’s a shame, a real shame.” Ducky brought out a comically large pair of scissors. “But you leave us no choice. There’s not gonna be a Christmas this summer. Or any summer. Because it’s summer.”

“Woah, woah!” I said. “Just calm down there.” I dug my heels into the ground. Every one of the Christmas Protectors was giving it their all just to keep the tree from falling. The only way to stop the CAA was with words. “Think about what you’re doing. If you cut the rope, the tree will smash that car!”

Ducky turned around. “There’s no car underneath the tree. Did you really think I wouldn’t check?”

“I was hoping for that, yeah. But come on guys, don’t cut the rope.”

Green Gorilla took the scissors from Ducky and held them by the rope. “By cutting this rope, we are symbolically cutting your addiction to Christmas.”

“Wait!” I screamed.

Green Gorilla stopped. “Damn, why did I listen to that wait?”

“Listen,” I pleaded. “I know you and the Christmas Protectors have your differences, but it’s Christmas. I know some part of you deep down still loves Christmas. It’s the season to set aside your differences and… and come together. You guys have some much in common like… wearing sweaters, weird nicknames, and kidnapping people. What do ya say?”

Green Gorilla lowered the scissors. “I do miss eggnog.”

“Green Gorilla, no! Stay strong!” Ducky cried.

“What’s the point of being strong,” she said as she gripped the rope, “if I can’t lift others—and pine trees—up.”

With one swift yank, Green Gorilla pulled the tree into a perfect upright position. I glanced at my scrawny arms. Tomorrow morning, I need to hit the gym.

“Come on guys,” she said. “It’s time to set aside our differences. Tis the season.”

“It’s August!” Ducky cried.

“But in our hearts,” Redolph said, a hand on her chest, “it’s December 25th, all year long. And isn’t that what’s important?”

Slowly, Trout crawled over to our side. 

“No, you too,” Ducky said. 

Santa Man held his arms open wide. “Come to the Christmas side, Ducky. We have better sweaters and hot chocolate.”

Reluctantly, Ducky switched sides.

“Bring out the ornaments! We need to celebrate,” Redolph said.

Running as fast as he could, Ginger Snap fetched a box of them from the van. As we sang Christmas carols, we handed them out. Green Gorilla took a handful of tinsel and sniffed it. “That’s the stuff,” she breathed.

Maybe we made a mistake bringing them back to the Christmas side.

Ah, well, at least the tree turned out cool.