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Week 574 (April 30-May 14) Stories Topic: Unexpected Guest
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Thank you both. I appreciate it!
Happy Mother's Day to all the moms out there and who are on here!
I will extend this contest. If anyone has a story they've been wanting to post, go ahead. There's still time!
Title: Most Wonderful Time of the Year!Author: C. J.
Word Count: 3,822 (sorry)
Story: (Part One)
John readied the party thinking this was his last chance to have peace with humanity.
He laid the surprisingly bright decor with annoyed grunts as “Peace on earth good will to men…” repeated on his record player.
His pocket rang and John fished out his cell.
“Hello?”
“Hey, John…?”
“Harry! How's prep going?”
“I reached out to send invites to any site I could think of that had people you know.”
John growled.
“Ah, social media. So you ‘reached out’ and touched no one, I see!”
“John, I don't need this right now.”
He bumped into and almost yanked some holiday festivity off of the wall. It would have crumpled in his hands if he had squeezed it.
“Tell me, what is it more than last year's shindig?”
“It's too early to tell but I also sent out physical invites on cards to people you know as well.”
“Well I had about ten people. I was expecting about twenty, but it was still a good turnout.” He unballed the decoration from his fist and put it back. Then he spoke in a sigh. “I wonder if it's ‘cause I moved that they aren't here…?”
“I don't know. We were pretty clear about the change of address on the invitations. Hmm. Oh yeah,” Harry made a noise equivalent to an audible wince. “Uhh. And I forgot to tell you. Speaking of the invitations, I have a confession. I, umm, I made a mistake on the cards.”
“Did you put the wrong address on? No wonder…”
“No. It's not that.” John could almost feel his friend's hesitation again. Harry cleared his throat. After a pause Harry continued.
“Remember Mikey McClelland…?”
“Yeah. One of the biggest bullies I had when I was in high school.”
“I gave him one.”
“I think I misheard. You gave him a ‘what’...?”
“I,” he paused to clear his throat. “I gave him an invite.”
“Seriously??!”
John thought he was dreaming when he actually heard him right the first time.
“Why did you do that?!”
“Hey, lay off, it was an accident! I got him confused with one of your friends.”
“Which one? The one that doesn't look like Butterbean the boxer..?”
“No, the name. The guy’s name. It also sounds like Mikey. Kinda.”
“Who? Mickey Macron?”
“Yeah that's the one.”
“How? How could you make that mistake with Mik--?!”
It almost killed him to dare say the name.
Soon he hung up with his friend and pondered more alone in his apartment. People may like to throw blame on others for their problems in life but to John he didn't care about thinking this way. Mikey was the reason John didn't trust or talk much with others. Like this collective of cells representing all of the worst in society was this kid Mikey.
Mikey acted like some kind of evil weapon. He would seek him at school and try to destroy him. He beat him up about once a month. He spread lies about John. He lost friends from those lies. Then rumors began and soon he was seen as something he knew he wasn't to the entire student body!
John was surprised he rarely saw his school counselor during those incidents. Maybe John hadn't seen them as real professionals like doctors one would see on television.
He almost got depressed dwelling on these things. He nearly turned back to hoping to drown his sorrows with alcohol but he remembered he stopped buying it and had quit that for about two years.
Time to move on. Distract. Why don't I have a tree? What's a Christmas party without a tree?
John realized he could buy an aluminum one at the corner store and tie it up to his car.
Because that'll make things all better. Right?
“Why don't I buck up? Also I could decorate some more, make this place look festive, and put out the entrées, just in time for my bully to come by and whoop my ass. Wonderful. Can't wait for tonight!” Then he went out the door.
---
The store had only one left. And it was not assembled.
He looked at the instructions and began to put it together.
“‘Do not use heavy decorations on it. Do not put lights on tree. Sensitive to heat!’
“Boy, it takes a lot of effort to get festive nowadays!”
The box itself seemed so out of date, John wondered if it was produced at a factory during the 70’s. Again John thought about his coming “guest.”
“O Christmas tree O Christmas tree, you're as vulnerable as my face will be!”
He then looked at the final product. An almost mishmash of small blue and purple balls hung about the bright artificial stems. Atop it (or near that spot) hung a nostalgic old ornament, a wintery house laden with snow. He never owned a tree topper.
Just then he got a phone call. He sighed as he saw it was just Harry was on the line.
“Any news on the party-goers, John?”
“I was about to ask you the same thing.”
“Oh. No. I got nothing since I sent the invitations. Sorry!”
“What is wrong with people? Why am I even doing this party?”
“Well people did at least tell me they planned to come.”
“I bet they were just trying to be nice.”
“But hey I told you you should've made a Facebook event for it but you refused to make an account. Everyone is on there.”
“Yeah almost everyone and all their grandmas.”
“Do you have the Haley Twins’ number?”
“Yeah. Oh and also Tommy and Jeanette! They came last year without giving an RSVP. They should be guaranteed to come!”
“I also got a few friends.”
“Really? That's great!”
There was a pause. Then Harry spoke in a mocking tone.
“‘Thank you for doing all this. You really helped me out, Harry.’ Oh that is so nice for you to say. From your mouth. I appreciate that so much!”
“Good one Harry. I needed a laugh today.”
He hung up with a beep.
About ten minutes passed when it went off and he dropped it below the fake Christmas tree.
“Mom?”
“Yes honey. It's me.”
“I thought you were one of the dang guests. Keep the line clear!”
She sounded like she stammered.
Oh no. The blubbering works are coming… John was dreading to himself.
“Sorry. It's been rough today, Mom.”
I said sorry now, so… what is it?
“You ready for the party?”
He sighed. “Yes.”
“All the decorations are up?”
“Getting there but I haven't found the mistletoe.”
Whoops.
“Mistletoe? Why is the mistletoe needed so badly?”
“I uh,... nevermind that now. I may need more of that other thing. That sparkly, sash-type stuff though.”
“On the Christmas tree?”
“No that stuff. It's not sparkly, I don't know what I'm saying right now.”
A pause. His mom tried again.
“Tinsel?”
“This is something that doesn't go on the Christmas tree. Nevermind, Mom.”
“Holly?”
“Close enough. No wait. Garland!”
“What?”
“I need more garland.”
“I gave you that last year. I saw you hang it up then too. It wasn't my imagination.”
“Yeah but that was old stuff. I thought I bought more. I threw yours out. I could have sworn there was more.”
She paused. Then a sniffle.
“You threw out the old garland?”
“Yeah. So what?”
"That was a present from me to you to one day be a new tradition for you.”
“What do you mean, ‘tradition?’”
“It was special. The only nice thing I got from your father.”
“Well in that case I'm glad I threw it out. He can go blow off as far as I'm concerned.”
He clicked the button. Beep. His way-point to the outside world. John's dad left when he was little. He only saw him on holidays or some random outing, which lasted like seconds and the old man always “had to” leave.
He huffed. Good riddance.
(Part 2) Most Wonderful...After a while he felt bad. Good, bad, or whatever, the gift was from his mom's and meant a lot to her. In the big bin around and in the basement still.
He'd have time to get it later, John supposed.
He put up begrudgingly the message “HAPPY HOLIDAYS” in front of the faux fireplace.
One thing John didn't understand was how he started to love Thanksgiving and Christmas like he had joy. Yet his mother showed “joy” year round. And seemingly always.
If there was something she had in her life it was a lot of hootspa or something of that nature!
Anyway John stopped acting like his life was some kind of Hallmark channel special film, and grabbed the other ornaments.
He found the stars but where were the balls?
“Where are the-- the--- the ball things?”
He went outside in the cold. Still moving in he had a ton of stuff in his garage slash basement area, some of it blocked the only door to get to it while inside.
He whipped around and went right for where he abandoned it. The trash bin was gone.
It was gone?
He called his friend Harry.
“What's up?”
“Do you have my decorations?”
“What? No.”
“Did you have them?”
“I said no.”
He paused. Now he was getting a headache. His mind kind of cleared as an idea popped in. He snapped his fingers.
“When did you see them last?”
“Well they were in some sort of bin when I stopped by. I wheeled them to the front of the house for the garbage man. He should be there soon. Wow it's already 1 pm? Time flies.”
Beep. Hang up.
The neighbors were nearly startled by a loud crash. Then John saw a huge toolbox blocking the door and nearly lifted it.
A quick thought. “Go around again or blow out a hernia while pulling this damn thing..?”
He whipped around horrified to find a trash truck hauling one of his bins.
“No. Wait!”
When the guy finally pulled out his earbuds John hoped beyond belief and opened the last can. The first one was already being poured into the large back end of the rumbling machine.
Inside of the three cans, the one with the innards furthest from death and destruction were ornaments and the garland.
He sighed relief.
“Thank you!”
Then pulled the last can to his front door.
He ignored the scoff and his annoyance. “The holidays really bring out the crazies…”
He went through everything, ignoring the garland again.
He forgot about the multiple drapes of yellow, white, and red.
He put those around himself doing an impression of himself in elementary school, “I am André the Giant… Christmas Tree!”
He was so glad nobody saw that. (You wouldn't say anything, would you? You better not)!
So anyway John had memories, blah blah blah, and he kept wondering about his mom.
“She talked about no grumbling, no getting revenge, and always be loving no matter what.”
Then a tear went down his eyes.”My mom was always there for me, ready to hear from me, always. Why didn't I ever tell her of the hell I was going through?”
He went back and put the old garland into a box.
It was suddenly nearly 3:15. About four hours away from the suggested “party” time.
He called Harry again.
“Oh good. Hey John.”
“Still no RSVP's?”
“No. At least two.”
“What? Why didn't you tell m--?”
“I just got a response. The notification popped up as you called.”
A pause.
“Okay…?”
“There's a possibility there are two people going.”
“Wow. Great.”
“In a couple of minutes I can call to fully confir--”
“I'll call.”
“Wait. Just… wait a second!”
Beep.
Harry called back.
“Look, man, you are making me mad now. We are friends, right? I won't do you wrong, right? I'm your friend and you hired me as your coordinator. I want to do my best so get your bang for your buck, so… about this job. Let me do it!”
The comment stung John like a rubber band. He hadn't realized how he seemed to Harry, a friend of his.
The echo of his tone went through the house and for once John had nothing to say.
“I'll come by in an hour. Any concerns you have I will quell, I hope, at the best of my ability.”
Wow. Harry sounded off. John thought as he stayed on the floor. He checked to see if he had peed himself. Nope. Dry.
He woke up still on the hardwood floor. As soon as he rose he panicked.
He called Harry again. It was now 4:17.
“Hey.”
“Who responded to the party?”
“Okay it was Jake and Gretchen Horowitz.”
“Jake and Gretty? They got married?”
“Yeah… I guess so. The other o--”
“I haven't seen Jake since the AA meeting two years ago!”
John couldn't help but smile.
“I'll call the-”
Harry disagreed by clearing his throat.
“I'll. Uh. I'll let you get at this one.”
“Time is critical. I need to know if people are definitely coming or they are just thinking about it. Don't call them at this time. Time is critical but you also don't know the details.”
“Hmm. Lemme guess. Was this on social media? I think I get it.”
“Thank you, John. You know I think hour by hour you are growing as a better person. Any more and you'll be like a giant.”
Harry gave a gentle laugh he hadn't heard before from him. Then they both hung up.
He put up strings then swept up the floor. John then cleaned and shoveled the driveway. Before he knew it, it was 5:45 or past. His watch died. He went home to take it off and went to take a shower.
It was 6:00.
He strung up the early Christmas cards from friends and family. He got one from his dad. John nearly torched it and “sent it to the fiery furnace” called his stove but felt maybe he could hold onto it for just one day.
His mom wasn't able to come. He asked about Dad. Nope. Figured.
He kept putting up cards. Two names caught his eye.
Eunice. And Brielle. Two of his former loves. Oh how he missed them. Now, John tuned in his heart, they each had a ‘beau’ of their own.
He so badly wanted to drink. This thought never came so intense before. What a wonderful time of the year too to drown in his sorrows. Probably fall down the stairs Porky Pigging it screaming at whatever sports game that would be too loud.
He put out another tray of appetizers and looked to see if they needed anything extra. A bit of mint. Some basil? Now they were better.
Harry called.
“Sorry I tried to get to you sooner. I am sorry but there were cancellations and confirmations. I'll explain it all soon. Stay tuned.”
“Okay. Friend.”
He ran over to reward himself. Time for a non-drink.
Without thinking, he grabbed a bottle of Goya Refresco, a drink he never had before, by the bottle cap and twisted in a quick motion.
Extreme pain shot to his fingers.
“Aah!”
He threw the glass into the air, then it shattered around his already bleeding hands. He squealed as he stood at the sink.
He was too far from the phone. Plus it actually made a warning sound that it was running out of battery.
Where even is the charger?
A strong familiar scent then invaded his nose as it slipped down the sink.
“Why do I smell alcohol? Why do I smell alcohol???”
(Part 3) Most Wonderful...Note: This is PG-13 for suggestive Themes and Language
John nearly started crying.
A door knocked. Then he heard Harry let himself in. He eventually spotted him in the kitchen.
“What's that smell? Oh… what the--- are you okay, John?”
“Yeah…”
“What's wrong?”
“Was trying to get a drink. I think I'm bleeding.”
“Oh. Whoa, yes you are! Where's the first aid kit?”
“In the corner. This ain't my first rodeo.”
He was wistful enough that soon he cleared the glass from his sliced hand.
“You've got no wounds on your other hand. How did the glass shatter?”
“I think it fell past my hands. It's all in the sink.”
He bandaged up John.
“Did you get all the decorations up? It looks really complete.”
“No, I can't find the---”
“I love it.”
“--mistletoe.”
There was an unsure pause. Then John's friend Harry was curious.
“Um, what..?”
John smirked woozy probably from some blood loss.
“The mistletoe, Joe. I mean Harry, haha. I'd love to have ladies come by and give em two big smooches. Maybe Eunice and Brielle can come by, hehe. That would make my Christmas, haha!”
Harry flipped.
“That's not funny. And I thought you stopped drinking!”
“I'm not drunk.”
“Oh yeah, stinky? Explain that smell!”
“It's not alcohol. I'm telling you!”
Harry went over to the door and John tried to stop him.
Harry gave a look he never wanted to see again. Was it pure rage?
John slowly unlocked the door.
As Harry started to head outside, he turned seeming to shout so the neighbors could hear.
“Oh and you know how you say you never want to be like your father? You just said you wanted to sleep with two women. In committed relationships! That's no different than your dad and you know it, you bastard!”
As he walked off Harry continued shouting. “Brielle is like a sister. You are a horrible--- ugh! Aaaah!”
John had a feeling he should just go in, close the door and walk away from the fight.
But he decided on the opposite.
“Oh yeah? Tell the ‘coming’ guests that they can all fuck off!”
He slammed the door.
It was 6:58. He got one critical call from Harry.
“You heard what I said.”
“Oh really. Okay then.”
“What now? What is it?”
There was the sound of what was a small crowd. Barely over the fading wallpaper on his cell he then heard Harry's grudge.
“Okay folks. You heard him. The Christmas party is cancelled.”
The phone died.
Then John saw flames.
“That's not what I said! Aaaaah..!”
He threw the phone so hard it cracked against a wall, nearly splitting in half. Now John had no one.
Seemingly nothing. It was 7:17 as John sat on a random table. Barely propped up as “It's the Most Wonderful Time of the Year” played on his record player in the corner. He kept a sticker bow on his forehead, looking plainly at nothing, draped in some extra decorations again.
For some reason he swore he could hear a car honking outside. After a while, there was shuffling by the door.
Then a knock. One single, powerful knock.
Familiar fear swept across his face. He cowered as he pulled the door open.
He was almost the same except taller and the tiniest hint of skinnier. He still somehow had that tough exterior of a visage. Eyes dead forward, strong prouder forehead, and never smiling and downward torn mouth.
There in front of him was the giant and John no longer felt like Andre.
Here was the biggest bully Mikey standing at his door wanting to go in to the party.
“You have food? I'm starving.”
John stared as the bulk of a man made his way into the house.
He ripped off his decorations and then the guy spoke again.
His demanding tone seemed unwavering: “I want a lot of food. I want a lot of ih...!”
John went into the kitchen. Ready to say his thoughts aloud, somehow his mom's advice flooded his brain in a singsong tone.
Mom: Don't grum-ble
It calmed him for a moment. That is until he was tempted to stab and destroy some buttered toast with a knife, then one of mom's “momisms” came to him again.
Mom: Use kindness as a weapon. You'd be surprised how much people change after that!
He treated me so bad, Mom. I'd like to use my shoe as a weapon; I'd use it to kick that football head off from between his shoulders!
He put the knife down.
“Kindness. Kindness. Kindness…”
He then began the hors d'oeuvres. “Come on big boy. You want a plate, or should I lay you onto the floor and just shovel it all in?”
Mikey tried nearly everything. He ate half the pineapple, the appetizers, and thirty goldfish.
The crackers.
John then delicately sliced the glowing ham, plated two kinds of stuffing, and gave a generous portion of homemade turkey and chicken gravy.
Mikey ate every bite. It must have been good too, because he seemed to moan at the thought of it again, and then licked his fingers.
“You cook.”
“Yeah. Sometimes it feels like it's all I can do.”
Without hesitation, Mikey changed the subject.
“That garland must be cheap. Not real.”
“That's ‘cause it was only 99 cents. Anyway, do you remember me?”
He looked me up and down then back at probably nothing. “I need to remember. Was starved.”
“What will help you remember?”
“Time!”
John stepped back.
Jeez! What good is kindness when the guy is an a hole?
“Elememtary.”
“Right. Partial credit?”
“You were kid with big mouth.”
John closed it. He continued.
“Every time I had bad day, you saw challenge nhn me.”
“Had worst day. Grandmuh got sick. You called me Mister Tough Guy. Got mad. Grades went down. Repeat grade that next year.”
“What happened after that?”
“Summer. School. Then had worst year.”
“Oh man….”
I was the asshole. What was I doing torturing this kid those years ago??
He felt tension. It was driving John crazy so he burst out whatever he could to stop the intensity.
“What happened?”
“Mom died.”
Then he sniffled.
“Oh I am… so sorry. I feel bad, bud.”
“Was years ago. Still miss her though.”
“I uh… can't believe I am saying this. Years ago that happened because I thought you were treating me like crap.”
“Oh. I'm sorry.”
John burst into tears.
“No I don't deserve that. I should apologize to you a thousand times!”
“You get rage?”
“Yeah.”
“Cannot control?”
“Yep.”
“You should go to my anger management. It does good. Every day feel better. Look at life different now.”
John was hugging the big guy not even thinking of the irony of it all.
“Yes. I'll go with you.”
The next day John called his mom and thanked her. He also told her to give his dad a second chance since he heard he was never with another woman since the divorce.
She gave a hearty no. That was fine. For now.
Then he called Harry knowing he loved leftovers, the weirdo.
The End
Review my story. Open to critique!
A new beginningThe house and neighborhood seemed picturesque to the family and me. Brick-laden streets, and ornate lamps with wrought iron arms below them holding scrolled street names. It seemed as if it came straight out of a Dickens novel. Most of the homes in the neighborhood featured clapboard siding with columned overhangs above double entrance doors and winding walkways.
Finally finishing the unpacking and arranging of the house. My wife and I sat on the sofa, A soothing fire danced beneath the hearth, and the kids were finally upstairs asleep. As I sat with my arm around my wife, enjoying a glass of wine, I felt a warmth inside, believing I had provided the perfect home for my family.
A subtle noise came from upstairs, and Rembrandt, our shepherd, raised his head and growled. “What was that?” my wife quiered.
I stood and glanced up; “I’m not sure, Maybe the kids?” I set my wine glass on the end table and walked to the landing of the staircase leading up. Rembrandt was now standing beside me.
“No,” Janice replied. “It came from the other end of the house. More like from our bedroom area.”
“Maybe, but it’s an older house, might have just been the wood settling. Old homes do that you know.”
“It didn’t sound like settling.” She replied. Then there was a louder sound; a double thump-thump like something dropped.
“What are you kids doing up?” I asked in a slightly irritated, raised voice. But there was no reply. “I’ll go check; Lets go Boy.” Rembrandt led the way as we traversed the stairs, heading in the direction of the sounds.
When we reached the top of the stairs, the finial from the newel post was lying beside it. “Ok Kids, who is behind this?” But there was no reply. I walked down the polished wood hallway to their bedrooms and gently opened the door. Both of them were fast asleep, and I felt uneasiness in my stomach. Rembrandt began to growl, glancing toward the other end of the hall. I turned and walked slowly in the direction he was staring, with him beside me.
When we reached the stairs, I bent down and picked up the finial and put it back on the post, and continued down the hall. Rembrandts growling became more pronounced, and his hair stood along his back, there was something and he wasn’t happy about it.
When the two of us entered the Master Bedroom, I could hear water running in our bath, so I headed that direction. The Lavatory faucet was running, and the hot water frosted the mirror. I turned the water off, confused, glancing at the mirror, fear riveted through me as something began writing in the mist enveloping the glass. “Welcome to our home!” Then the glass cleared, and the writing disappeared. I looked at it, still inwardly shaken by the words, then they appeared, a man and woman, dressed in formal attire, looking back at him. The woman smiled and spoke softly, “It’s a home to die for….”
SA Lawrence
Please post directly into the topic and not a link. Please don’t use a story previously used in this group.
Note: Only one submission per person is allowed.
Your story should be between 250 and 3,500 words long.
Remember that a short story is not merely a scene. It needs to have a beginning, a middle, and an end.
This week’s topic is: Unexpected Guest
The rules are pretty loose. You could write a story about anything that has to do with the subject/photo but it must relate to the topic somehow.
Most of all have fun!