A Christmas Story

Approximately 1220 words

For our holiday party, members in my local writing group write stories based on a prompt.  The stories are supposed to also include mandatory words.  This year's prompt was "a holiday visit," and the words were paresthisia (pins and needles sensation), parthenogenesis, and psithurism (the sound of wind in the trees).  Since we're mostly SciFi, horror, or fantasy authors, the silent expectation is that the story will be in one of these genres. The stories are also supposed to be less than 1000 words--we read them at the party.

This is the story I came up with at the last minute--the party is Friday, Dec 8.  It's too long, and the genre is a stretch.  My narrator is a good old boy, so fitting the words in was tough, but I think I made it.  The fun part of writing this story was working the lyrics from ten different songs into the narrator's tale, a challenge I created for myself.

If anyone can see what to cut to make this less than 1000 words, I'd be interested.  I could get there if it weren't for those pesky words.  I also don't want to eliminate the song lyrics, since I think they make the story.  In any case, feedback as always welcome.

PS If you believe in the immaculate conception, you'll probably hate this story.  Just know I'm trying to make fun of the irony-impaired narrator, not religious belief. 

PPS Turns out the party is Saturday, so I've got another day to play with this.  I managed to shave 100 words off without losing anything.  I even managed to squeeze in two more song references!  Changed the title, too, and the ending to at least give it the appearance of a semi-fantasy story.

A Bubba Christmas MIracle

         

See if you can name the dozen songs whose lyrics or titles are paraphrased in this story

         
Mary Sue waddled into Uncle Spud’s Christmas Eve party and the first thing I noticed was that she was wearin’ blue velvet.  Just like that night last March when she lost her lovin’ feelin’ and dumped me.  The next thing I noticed were her eyes, bluer than velvet, spittin’ daggers at me.

         I guess I shouldn’ta laughed at her yesterday when she told me she was still a virgin. I mean, it's not like I got personal knowledge of it nor nothin'.  But, look at her!  She must be eight months PG if she’s a day.  She’s bigger’n a friggin’ house.  Jesus Christ, does she think I ain’t got no eyes?

         Cousin Vinny slouched up to where I was standin’, chugged down some beer, and burped.  He straightened his Santa’s elf hat while he said, “Hey Joey, who knocked up Mary Sue?” He gave me a sly grin and fisted my shoulder. “Was it you?”

         “T’weren’t me, and she ain’t talkin’.” Vinny was a pain, ‘specially lately.  He’d been struttin’ ‘round like he was a Mafia Capo or somethin’. He'd showed up for the holidays last week with a couple of other wise guys from out east.

         He burped again. “Whoever done it better watch out. Better not lie, neither.  I’m tellin’ you why: my Pop’s flyin’ into town tonight with his Consigliere. That Rudie, he’s got a nose for shit.”

         I could believe Uncle Nick was a Capo. To be safe, I repeated, “Well, ‘tweren’t me what did it.  She’s done been gone to Coffeyville for beauty school since March.”

         That made Vinny snort beer out his nose.  “Beauty school? It sure didn't help her looks none’.”

         I had to admit she was kinda horse-faced, and the extra lard from bein’ prego didn’t help none. But I was sweet on her once.  Still was, truth be told.  Sure, she never gave out, and never gave in neither.  She was frequently kind and suddenly cruel.  But she's always a woman to me.

         Time to change the subject.  “Place looks good. All Christmas-like.”  Uncle Spud had gussied up his auto body shop so it looked like Santa had thrown up all over the place.

         Vinnie nodded. “Yeah, ‘cept for the cars.”  He pointed at a sliver BMW sittin’ over the grease pit. It was covered with red and green streamers.  “Pop bought one just like that a coupla months ago. Set him back two hundred grand.”

         I could believe that car cost a shitload of cash.  Uncle Spud let me sit in the back seat, and the leather was softer than a baby’s butt. Speakin’ of baby’s butts, Mary Sue had wallowed up to the food bar and was porkin’ out on corn fritters.

         I couldn’t take watchin’ her, so I went for a walk.

         Typical crappy Tulsa weather. The wind whispered through the trees, and I thought about Momma’s dumb word-of-the-day. Psithurism. She was always raggin’ on me to better myself.

         All the leaves were brown and the sky was gray.  ‘Steada bein’ warm at home, here I was, Oklahoma dreamin’ on a winter’s day.

         In went into the church in the strip mall across the street. I closed my eyes and pretended to pray.

         ‘Stead’a prayin’, I thought about Mary Sue.  I’d written to her, last July. I gave the letter to the postman.  He put it in his sack.  Next morning he brought my letter back. Return to sender, address unknown.  No such number, no such zone

         I thought ‘bout that night when she wore blue velvet. too. Now she was in Uncle Spud’s body shop, wearin’ ‘bout an acre of blue velvet. Just like that night, today there's somthin’ I've got to say to her, but every time I try to tell her, the words just come out wrong.  If only I could say I love you in a song.

         I sighed. Bye bye love. Hello loneliness.

         I thought I was gonna cry.

         Instead, I headed back to Uncle Spud’s party. No sooner was I there than my geekoid cousin Billy Bob latched onto me, sportin’ an eggnog mustache. “Good to see you, Joey.  What’s up?”

         The sky, you dweeb.  “Not much. I just went for a walk.”

         “It’s chilly out there.  Gave me paresthisia.”

         I rolled my eyes. Even Vinny was better than him.

         The jerk smirked at me.  “It means ‘pins and needles.’”

         I smirked back. I laid today’s word-of-the-day from Momma on him. “I didn’t notice. I was busy listenin' to’ the psithurism.”

         Billy Bob’s eyes got kind of a glazed look.  Gotchya!

         A shriek from the crowd interrupted our dangling conversation.  The party chatter faded to the sound of silence and everyone turned to gawk.

         There was Mary Sue, next to that fancy Beemer, squattin’ over a disgusting puddle of water and shriekin’ her head off.  “Oh god, oh god.  My water just broke!”

         In nothin’ flat, Momma was right there, holdin’ her hand and strokin’ her forehead.  I pushed closer.

         Momma opened the door to that Beemer and half-carried Mary Sue into the back seat. At least she quit her hollerin’.

         Momma asked her, “Mary Sue, how long you been havin’ contractions?”

         She was pantin’ like she’d just run one of them Marathon things, but managed to get out, “Them was contractions? I thought they was gas.”

         Well, she did fart a lot. And no one ever said she was smart.

         Momma repeated, “How long, Mary Sue?”

         “I guess maybe four hours—ooooOOOOEEEE.”

         Momma turned to me. “Joseph Conrad Campbell, you git your butt inside this car. This woman needs you. You gotta hold her hand.  With contractions comin’ this fast, she’s gonna have this baby lickety-split.”

         No one messes with Momma.  I got my butt in the car and I held her hand. Made me feel warm inside.

         Tain’t much to tell after that.  Just a lot of screamin’ and cussin’ from Mary Sue.  I even learnt me some new words.

         After ‘bout twenty minutes, she squirted out a tiny baby boy, all wrinkly and squirmy. Away in a back seat, no crib for his bed, he lay down his slimy head.

         The three wise guys, they gave Mary Sue some bling they’d brought back from the east coast. Perfume and stuff.

         Best of all, me and Mary Sue, we made up.  She still insisted she was a virgin, so, stupid as that sounded, I apologized for laughin’ at her.  That’s all it took. Well, that, and me finally gettin’ those words to come out right. DIdn’t need no song, neither. As to Mary Sue’s virgin claim, parthenogenesis was one of Momma's words last month.  I mean, if there's a science word for what she claimed, it must be possible, right?

         Anyways, all I care about is that we're back together.  Well, that and the baby, of course.

         We named him Jesse.