Worst Christmas Ever

It was Christmas morning at the Merten family household. Mom and Dad (Tom and Kate Merten) were in the kitchen making pancakes for breakfast. The kids - Felix, Brittney, and Louis (aged 8, 5, and 4, respectively) – were crawling around the tree, seeing which packages were whose, comparing how many each had, and trying to guess what treasure might be in each ornately wrapped box.

The kids had been begging for weeks for a puppy; three puppies, preferably. Their hopes were high, as Kate had been dropping little suggestive hints that such a gratuity was not entirely out of the realm of possibility. She and Tom had many late-night discussions about the pros and cons of another mouth to feed and another “child” to clean up after. In the end, they decided on a kitten. After all, kittens are just as adorable as puppies, aren’t they? And cats are easier to take care of and pretty much potty-train themselves. This was important, as they had just gotten new carpet the previous year.

The kids moaned in protest when called to the dining room for breakfast. Truth be told, they were all a little unsettled, having hoped to see a puppy with a bright red bow around its neck snoozing peacefully under the tree. Without saying anything, they each tried to mentally prepare for the worst, without abandoning hope altogether. It was all they could do to choke down a single pancake; except for Felix, of course, whose voracious appetite could not be affected by anything as trivial as dashed hopes or a plane crash.

At last, the fun, thrills, and unbridled joy and laughter were about to begin as they all headed back to the family room. They all took turns revealing a single prize at a time. Shreds of paper and opened boxes littered the floor among the various gifts that had been opened and examined – each tossed aside in preparation for the next one. There were board games, dolls, electronics, wads of slime and silly putty, a bicycle, and assorted game balls. And the usual suspects: socks, underwear, sweaters. When it looked like the festivities were about to come to a close, Tom got up and headed for the door to the garage.

At the referral of a friend, Tom and Kate decided to go the Humane Society. While they really wanted to get the kids a kitten, they felt sorry for the cats at the shelter. They didn’t look very long. Kate immediately fell in love with the first cat they saw. It was one of those pink hairless jobs. Tom was appalled. Could any creature be more disgusting? What would the kids think? What if they didn’t like it? No argument moved Kate in the least. She was determined and, as usual, got her way.

Tom returned to the family room with a box; a lid was loosely secured with scotch tape. The children jumped up in unison and ran at their father. “Hold on,” he said, “we don’t want to scare him.” He walked over and knelt down in front of the tree, the kids kneeling on either side of him, dancing on the inside. He said nothing, not wanting to spoil the surprise. He wasn’t sure what to say at all, actually. In fact, he was a bit nervous, almost feeling like a cheat in some way. Kate, on the other hand, was squirming in anticipation.

It may not have made much of a difference anyway, but it couldn’t have helped that they had bought their tree from a “budget” lot the day after Thanksgiving and then couldn’t remember to add water to the stand regularly. The needles were more than a little dry and turning brown, many finding their way into the carpet. But no one really paid much attention to that.

Tom gently removed the tape, lifting the lid slowly so as not to frighten Baldy, the name Tom had chosen (in his own mind; he knew it would never stand. Kojak and Mr. T also crossed his mind). At first, there was dumbstruck silence as the creature stared up at them, looking like some kind of circus freak. Brittney squealed suddenly. It wasn’t clear whether she squealed with delight or out of disgust or sheer horror. It didn’t matter. Baldy screeched (sounding somewhat like a braking train on rusty rails) and sprang out of the box into the only direction not occupied by humans – right into the cactus-like needles of the dying tree. Pandemonium ensued as the combination of fear and pain set the cat into a pattern of movements that can best be described as a living pinball machine hopped up on espresso. Its first unintended target was Louis’s face, which would be scarred for life with claw marks from his forehead to his cheekbone, his right eye having narrowly escaped removal. Kate ran to Louis’s aid while Tom and Felix tried in vain to catch Baldy and calm him down. Brittney threw herself to the ground, buried her face in her arms and sobbed hysterically. For all of Tom and Felix’s efforts, they may as well have been standing on a sheet of ice with steel shoes, trying to chase hummingbirds. Baldy zig-zagged at lightning speed; across the coffee table (knocking over cups of hot chocolate), into the Easy-Bake Oven, slipping on paper, crashing into the fireplace screen. The only time he slowed down – for about half a second – was when a claw got stuck on a pair of wool socks; he then tore off again with the sock securely attached, flapping behind him. Covering every square inch of the family room, he even tried to climb the wall behind the sofa, which, as fate would have it, led to the dismantling of two of the votive candles which had been burning in their appointed seats on the wrought iron sconce. Lamentably, one of the candles landed on Kate’s highly esteemed gift from Tom, a baby blue mohair sweater; this immediately caught fire, practically bursting into flames, which set the cloth sofa on fire as well.

The chase for Baldy having come to an abrupt halt, Kate yelled at Tom to call the fire department, then ran for the kitchen, ordering the kids to follow her. Her intention was for all of them to grab bowls or pitchers to fill with water for dousing the fire. By the time she returned to the family room – about thirty seconds later – it was obvious there was no way they could stop the growing disaster. The shreds of wrapping paper scattered about facilitated the rapid spread of flames. It was all they could do to account for each other and get out of the house safely. Within four minutes, the entire living room was engulfed in flames and spreading throughout the rest of the house. By the time the fire department got the fire put out, there wasn’t much of anything left, other than the cement foundation and scraps of metal.

No one ever did see Baldy again. Whether he escaped or not is unknown. One thing is for sure. The Merten family became life-long dog lovers.