The Yuletide Log



By Leigh





Date: 25 Dec 2004, Christmas Day.
Title: Oh god I can still hear the scuffling.
Contact from the parents: one text message, two phone calls.
Kitchen bench space occupied by dirty dishes: 50%
Morning.

ARMAND IS BACK. That�s what I thought when, having just retired to my boudoir, there was a noise. A scuffling. A scratching.

In the walls.

OH NOES SCARY ARMAND GO AWAYZ! I shouted, and huddled under the covers.

A few moments later, the noise resumed.

U DONT SCARE ME, VAMPyRE! GO BACK TO UR COVERN! I replied (the R is for �Real�), and threw myself across the room, where I preceded to beat a bongo tune upon the walls.

Then I threw myself back into bed, turned up the radio in case the vampire decided to get CLEVER about things, and went to sleep.

In the morning, when I awoke to find an empty house, and an empty space under the tree, I realised what I had done... Just past midnight on Christmas Eve. A sound high in the walls. That was no vampire! The logical conclusion was that it had been SANTA CLAUSE in my walls. (Or, possibly, Santa battling Armand.) Oh Santa. I�m so sorry. I didn�t mean to scare you away. Come back! And bring my presents!

In other news, I have to go to work today. I mean, what? Yes. Work. On Christmas Day. It�s precisely this kind of thing that makes me believe yes, there is a god. Not the carols and the peace and love and pudding. Just the pure patheticness of the fact that I get to spend hours serving other people Christmas dinner at a fancy schmancy restaurant and yet get none myself. In fact, I�ll probably have rice risotto. From a box.

There is a god, and he is vengeful.



Later: mid afternoon.

I finished work. It was slow. And it was very, very depressing. There was this little old man in a wheelchair with one leg and a droopy face and his ears weren�t working and he was eating Christmas dinner by HIMSELF. We didn�t start him an official bar tab because that would have required much effort and as I pointed out, �It�s not like he�s GOING anywhere.� I mean, apparently that wasn�t a nice thing to say. Not according to my boss, anyway. But he was laughing.

CONTRADICTION.

Anyway, I finished work and they offered me alcohol. I could not except this boon because my mother, with her phone calls, guilted me into saying that if I finished reasonably early I would drive THE TWO HOURS over to le Bay and meet up with The Family. Also, I don�t drink wine anyway, but the driving excuse was more relevant. I am a lightweight.

So Christmas will not be alone afterall. Yes. I lasted twenty four hours without my Mummykins. Later, fags.




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