“I’ll order you some takeout for dinner,” my friend said in concern.
My phone dinged. I looked at the TradeMe app notification.
“No need!” I grinned. “I just scored a job for tonight! And,” I said gleefully, reading the description, “the job is for wrapping presents! Somebody get me my Christmas wrapping kit!”
I jumped up, startling Louis, who was poking at a particularly shiny ornament.
“My scissors! I need my special scissors.”
Olivia took a bite of her sandwich. “But what about the shop?”
The shop had represented all my dreams and my hopes for a wonderful Christmas. Now it was slowly turning into a shrine to my failures. I sighed then pulled out a box and some wrapping paper.
“We have to move on. No one comes in here anyway, right?” I said, starting to wrap the box. “You have that nice architect’s handwriting. Just make a sign that says Ornaments: Pay What You Can.”
I handed Olivia a marker and a piece of card stock.
“People are just going to steal them,” she warned.
I shrugged. “I already paid for them either way. Maybe if I get robbed, I can file an insurance claim, and all my problems will be solved.”
29
Matt
Though I hated Christmas, I did like giving presents to kids, specifically all the Svensson kids. Even more specifically, I liked to give them the most obnoxious, noisy, annoying presents I could just to fuck with their older brothers.
Last year, I had given the kids a whole arsenal of Nerf guns. When I came over to their house to witness the chaos, they were in the middle of an epic Nerf gun fight that had lasted the rest of the day. Of course, I participated. And of course, our team won.
This year, I needed to go all out. I had bought a series of drones, small planes, and small helicopters that the kids could fly around the yard. There was even one huge drone that you could ride like a superhero.
They were noisy and fast and blinked with neon-colored lights. They were perfect.
The problem? There were over two dozen Svensson kids. They all had multiple presents each because the drones, of course, came with all sorts of accessories. Not to mention the prank presents I had bought for the Svensson brothers I had gone to college with. Last year, Eli had given me socks encased in concrete. This year, I was giving him a present in a specially designed box that would set off a miniature slime explosion if you didn’t open it correctly.
Now I had a literal mountain of presents in my estate house and three rolls of wrapping paper.
“Guess this is how I’m spending my evening.”
Ding-dong!
The ancient doorbell clanged through the house. Kringle roused from his nap and barked at the noise.
My brother Jonathan was standing on the front steps with a bag of unwrapped gifts.
“No,” I said and tried to shut the front door.
My older brother pushed past me into the foyer with its polished marble floor and set his bag of presents down.
“I don’t have anywhere to store these,” he said, going back out the door and to his truck. He opened the trunk, which was packed with boxes. “It’s Christmas. I have to surprise Carl’s little brothers and sisters.”
“I don’t see how you were even able to drive.”
“It was a Christmas miracle, baby bro,” he said.
I swatted his hand away before he could pat me on the head.
“I’m taller than you,” I growled.
