Page 57 of How My Neighbour Stole Christmas
“Don’t be scared. Look around—Cole’s not even here,” Taran says. “He probably realized what stiff competition you are and didn’t want to show up anymore.”
“You think?” I ask.
“Yeah, I think so,” she replies as Ursula wraps up her Upcycle Christmas scene as Kevin McCallister, BB gun and all, setting up her version of a booby-trapped house by using all upcycled products from Antlers Antiques. We heard whispers that she’s transferring the scene over to her light display as well, which will earn her extra points.
The crowd cheers—loudly—and Ursula comes off the stage, wearing a red sweater, khakis, and a blond wig that looks more like Ellen DeGeneres circa 2000 than that eight-year-old snotty protagonist who gets away with stealing a toothbrush without an adult present.
“Great job,” I tell Ursula. “Really loved the addition of the tarantula. It looked so real.”
“Can you believe I found it at Antlers Antiques? Sherry and I were laughing so hard about how it was such kismet.”
Insert eye roll here.
“What a gas,” I say with a smile and chuckle.
Ursula moves along, and Taran whispers, “What a gas?”
“I don’t know, this old-lady garb has brought me back to 1904, when the roads were dirt and horse-drawn carriages were the mode of transportation.”
“Clearly,” Taran says. “Okay, you’re up next. You can do this. Just think—”
The tent flaps part and Cole and Atlas shuffle in, both wearing long coats, but Cole’s face is painted green while Atlas is wearing dog ears and has a dog nose painted on his face.
What the hell are they up to?
“What’s up?” Atlas says to me with a nod. He scans me up and down. “Recreating the magical scene from last year?”
“Yes, we thought it would be a nice ode to Aunt Cindy…given her condition.”
Atlas slowly nods. “No doubt there won’t be a dry eye in the park. Can’t wait to see it.”
“Thank you,” I say as Cole shifts uncomfortably next to Atlas. “You’re looking rather green, Cole. Nauseated maybe?”
“Funny,” he says, not smiling. “Don’t trip while you’re up there.”
My eyes narrow at him.
“Don’t listen to him,” Taran says into my ear. “He’s trying to get under your skin.”
“No, I’m not,” Cole says. “Just wishing her good luck. I want nothing more than for her to sprinkle everyone with Christmas spirit.”
“Which is exactly what she’s going to do,” Taran says. “Just watch how my sister makes everyone weep.”
“Weep with embarrassment for performing a used set,” Cole mutters.
“What was that?” I ask, stepping up to him.
“You heard me, Taylor.”
“Taylor?” I ask. “Oh, are we going by last names now?”
“Does it matter?”
“I guess not, especially when I blow right by you in this competition.”
“What a lame comeback.”
From the side of the stage, Bob Krampus says, “Storee, you’re next.”
