There had to be another way to get Greg out of here—the ball! That stupid ball!
“Tuesday!” Ozzie shouted. “Can you program that ball inter-whatever thing to send him to the surface of the sun or something?”
“Yes!” Tuesday shot out a pink tentacle all the way over to Ozzie, gesturing wildly. “Give it to me! Quick!”
“Here! Here!” Derrick rushed to Ozzie’s side to drop the ball in Tuesday’s tentacle.
“For the last fucking time, Old Greg!” Tuesday fiddled with the device for a few seconds and then hurled it down Greg’s throat. “We are fucking done!”
Ozzie shoved the remaining fruitcake down behind it to make sure nothing came back up, shouting, “Merry Christmas, ya’ filthy animal!”
“Ermpphhh?” Greg seethed.
Grabbing Tuesday’s tentacle and Granny’s hand, Ozzie frantically backed away from Greg. “Come on, baby! Get away from him! He’s gonna beam outta here!”
“Coming!” Tuesday grunted as Ozzie pulled and he unwrapped himself from Greg. He ended up as one big blob of pink glittery slime in Ozzie’s arms, melting like a cone of ice cream on a hot summer day. “There… It’s done.”
Greg retreated out of the house and then staggered around the patio, all of his arms flailing. He tripped over the Santa, and his foot got tangled up in the cord. He pulled the golf club out of his mouth and gagged, but ultimately swallowed down everything in his gullet. “Wait, wait, no! Where are you sending me? Where are you—” He screamed furiously and then simply...
Poof.
There was a brief zing of static in the air, an odd buzz, and Greg was gone.
Along with the blowup mold Santa.
“Whoa.” Ozzie gasped. “Where, where did you send him?”
“Far, far, far the fuck away. Straight to his mother’s.” Tuesday was still a blob, but it sounded like he was smiling as he reached out for a tentacle to stroke Ozzie’s cheek as he said, “Hey... That’s... That thing you said. The animal thing. That was fromHome Alone. I know that one. ’Cause we watched it.”
“Fuck yeah, we did.” Ozzie hugged Tuesday tight. He turned to check on Derrick and Granny, asking breathlessly, “Is everyone okay?”
“That bastard made off with my best driver.” Granny scowled.
Derrick raised his hand. “I think I pooped.”
Ozzie snorted. “Well, it’s a good thing I told Mom to get you more underwear for Christmas, huh?”
“Yeah!” Derrick frowned. “Wait, really? Underwear? Lame.”
Ozzie smiled down at Tuesday and hugged his blobby body against his chest. “Tuesday? You good?”
“Yeah, baby. Nothing a little time and a bunch of orgasms won’t fix.” Tuesday slowly melted back into his human form right down to his festive Santa sweater, and he smiled drowsily up at Ozzie. “So, yeah, that’s my ex. Real king of the douche bagels.”
“You are never gonna have to deal with him again.” Ozzie kissed him fiercely. “Fuckin’ Old Greg. What an asshole. Just showing up here on fucking Christmas.”
“King of the douche bagels.” Tuesday laughed. “Pretty sure we covered this.”
Tucker and Gena rushed out from the kitchen to embrace Ozzie and Tuesday, and Gena demanded, “What in the world is going on? Why, why was that monster here? Why, why did Tuesday look like he was made of taffy? What is going on?”
Granny rolled her eyes. “Isn’t it obvious? Ozzie brought an alien home for Christmas.”
“I sure fucking did, didn’t I? Got my very own alien for Christmas.” Ozzie laughed, cupping Tuesday’s cheek and pulling him into a sweet kiss. He brushed his thumb over Tuesday’s glittery skin, and he couldn’t wait another second to say what had been resting on his heart for days.
“I love you, Tuesday,” Ozzie said. “My beautiful, gooey alien.”
“Ozzie!” Tuesday squeaked and melted—literally. He promptly grew two more arms just to hold Ozzie tighter, and his lower half turned into slime as his eyes grew damp. “You mean it? Really really? No takesies backsies!”
“Nope. Don’t worry.” Ozzie grinned. “No takesies backsies rules are in full effect.”
