Page 43 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
they’re about to find out if their eggnog is just right.
They loaded up thermoses and some tasty additions,
and headed down Krampus Court, dead set on a mission.
“Don’t forget to smile,” AuntCindy says as she jabs me with her finger when we step out onto the porch. I’m holding a thermos of our concoction while Taran is helping her down the steps and into a wheelchair.
“Hey, neighbors,” Martha Bawhovier says from across the street.
Decked out in matching one-piece ski outfits, both Martha and Mae look like they’ve come straight from a time machine dating back to 1986 where teal-and-purple was the preferred color combination, seen in every Taco Bell and splashed across paper cups. A stirring mix, especially with their winter…earmuffs? Eh, I wouldn’t call either contraption an earmuff, more like a fluffy winter headband that runs from forehead to ears to the back of the head. Both have their hair pulled into high, curly ponytails, the bottled blond a fantastic addition to the whole ensemble.
If there was a contest for best dressed, my vote would go to them.
It’s time to turn on the charm—because I know how importantMartha and Mae are to the competition. According to Aunt Cindy, they’re both secret spies, always keeping an eye on the Kringle-ees. I call out, “Hey, neighbors. How are you this evening?” It’s shocking that my jaw works given it feels like it’s frozen shut from the chill in the air. How do people live here? It’s like being trapped in a freezer every day of your life with no respite.
They join us on the sidewalk right in front of Aunt Cindy’s house. “We’re great,” Mae says, giving me a quick once-over.
Since I didn’t bring any Christmas clothes with me and just packed for warmth—turtlenecks, thermals, multiple pairs of flannel leggings—Aunt Cindy had me invade her closet, which means I’m wearing what I can only describe as the kitchen sink of all Christmas sweaters.
I thought it might be too flashy for the first competition—aka I didn’t want to wear it—but Aunt Cindy said I had to start out with a bang, so here I am in a red knit sweater adorned with numerous bells.
Countless bells.
So many bells that the sweater sags in the front.
There are bells on the collar.
On the chest.
On the…nipples.
In the armpits!
I have to walk around with my arms slightly propped up because of all the bells.
And boy, do they jingle jangle. I’m a walking sound machine with no exact tune, just noise.
And as if that’s not enough, Aunt Cindy had me pull my hair up into a bun so she could direct Taran in fastening a velvet bow with ribbons so long that they tickle my ears.
I paired the entire ensemble with my winter boots that are encased in fur—did you just think “boots with the fur” in your head? Because I do, every time I wear them.
I feel like a genuine idiot though, with the sash and all, but this is what we do for our loved ones. This is what we do to prove to the grumpy next-door neighbor that we’re not to be messed with. He wants to play games? He wants to challenge me? Well, come beat the old jingle jangle with the velvet bow in her hair.
I dare you.
“You look rather festive,” Martha says to me.
“Why, thank you,” I say and then shimmy at her, making her laugh.
That look on her face? That’s Christmas joy.
I just brought her Christmas joy with a shake of my breasts.
I bet Cole can’t do that.
“Can’t get enough of this sweater.”
“It looks spectacular on you,” Mae says. “Very becoming.”
