Anything For Yule, My Dude

The little house was warm and inviting. It was wrapped with lush garland and sparking tinsel. There were twinkling lights around all the exteriors of the doors and windows. A pine wreath, wrapped in thick white and green ribbons, welcomed guests at the front door.

The kitchen smelled of cinnamon, and the living room, pine. The radio jingled out cheery tunes in between commercials for life insurance and blockbuster films. A small fire crackled in the electric hearth.

Two men, each adorned in a festive sweater, stood facing one another in the living room. There was a nervous tension in the scented air. Several bottles of beer – safely on coasters with Santa's smiling face – and a bowl of caramel popcorn waited on the coffee table for their return to the couch. A football game, muted in favour of the carols, played on the large television above the fireplace.

“Will you...” Reindeer-sweater's voice wavered before he cleared his throat several times. “Will you marry me?”

Brown eyes met blue.

A dog barked outside.

And Dermot burst into hysterical laughter. “I can't, dude, I can't!” He leaned heavily on the back of a dining chair, hugging it, as if for emotional support as much as physical.

Scott's face turned red. His dark eyes rolled so far back he thought he spotted his brain.

Dermot took several minutes to calm himself, straighten up. He tucked the chair back into its place. “Okay... Okay, try again.”

Scott stared hard into his friend's eyes, realized for the first time that there was a bit of green in the left one.

The dog barked louder this time.

“Will you marry me?”

Dermot's nose scrunched like he was holding in a sneeze. He grinned.

And then he laughed again, a little less wild this time. “I'm s-sorry!” he choked out. “I want to help, I swear.”

Scott fiddled with the ring box in his pocket. “I'll try try it properly this time.” While he waited on Dermot's composure, he admired the place settings; green embroidered tablecloth, crystal wine glasses, gold plates, white linen napkins, a centrepiece made from fresh pine boughs and cones... His Sherry does some real classy decorating. Being a bit of a lazybones himself, he appreciated a girlfriend that actually, sincerely loved putting in the work for things they both loved; she loved decorating, and he loved admiring her work effort. Some people thought Sherry was a control freak, but Scott knew her well enough to know that she preferred order, and loved productivity; she was happiest when she always had tasks to accomplish. “Okay?”

“Okay!”

The plush carpet caught his knee as Scott dropped down, proffered up the little velvet box, opened it to display a beautiful ring, as tasteful and sparkling as the woman he loved. “Will you marry m-”

“Yes!” Dermot gushed in a high pitch. He clasped his hands together and pressed them against his chin, in a cartoonish parody of a thrilled girl. “A million times, yes!”

“Let me finish! She'll let me finish asking,” Scott snapped the box shut. Even in school, Dermot never took anything seriously. Must have been why his only top marks were in Drama.

“Du-u-u-ude, okay!” The grin stayed on Dermot's face. This practice session was likely lost now.

Scott sighed, adjusted his stance. “Sherry, will you marry me?” He held up the box.

“Yes, my darling!” And Dermot threw his weight down on Scott as he went for a bear hug. The little box flew out of Scott's hand. The men tussled and tumbled, legs and arms flailing, knocking down several stuffed snowmen from their proud perch beside the sofa. The snowmen were quickly brought in as the gentlest of weapons.

“I will marry you!” Dermot cried, giving Scott a soft whack on the head. “I'll be your beautiful bride!”

“I have to get it perfect! I want it to be perfect for her!” Scott protested, tossing a scarf-clad snowman, missing his target horribly. The stuffed toy sailed past Dermot's head and landed on the dining table.

The clink of dishes announced a sudden, unspoken truce. They could not continue this way if they were going to risk the fancy dishes being damaged, they needed to eat off of them tonight. Sherry loved to serve up big, fancy meals on holidays, spoiling friends' taste buds and stomachs, and she would be upset if she had to use non-matching or broken dishes. She was very particular about presentation.

Dermot stood, offered a hand to Scott. They brushed off invisible dirt, straightened the reindeer and sexy Santa sweaters. Scott retrieved the ring box from where it landed under the dining table. Dermot held a stuffed snowman like a baby, cradled in his arms, and rocked it as if settling it to sleep. “When are you gonna do it? New Year's Eve?”

“Mmm, no. Tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow! Tomorrow is Christmas, dude!”

“Yea,” Scott's grin was boyish and massive. “It's her favourite holiday. I'll do it after breakfast with my parents. Breakfast and gifts with them. We are gonna come home before going to her parents' for dinner. And then she can tell her mom in person right after.”

Dermot whistled. “That's brilliant, man.” He stroked the snowman's eternally-smiling cheek.

“So... Can we do this one more time? Please. Once more for serious, she isn't gonna be gone much longer. ”

“Anything for you, my dude.”

Scott cleared his throat. He knelt once more, held up the ring box and opened it. “Will you marry me?”

“What the...” a delicate voice sounded.

The boys jerked their heads up.

Traffic on both the roads and inside the shops had been surprisingly minimal, which accounted for the interruption. In the doorway, home early from a last-minute “I can't believe I actually forgot something!” excursion to the mall, a paper department store bag in one hand, her purse in the other, stood a shocked Sherry. From the foyer behind her, the tree glowed.

A dog barked outside.

And Dermot burst into hysterical laughter.