Page 161 of Merry Christmas, You Filthy Animal
Betty:Everything’s good. I have this new idea that I’m trying to flesh out, but I think it would be better than our initial plan. I’ve immersed myself in the town and I’ve found some areas where they’re lacking, so putting that all together.
Uncle Dwight:That’s great. I can’t wait to hear it. I’ll be back on the twenty-third. Talked to your parents, and I think they’re coming for Christmas as well.
Wait, he talked to my parents? When did he do that? And how come my parents didn’t say anything to me?
Uncle Dwight:Oh shit, wait, that was supposed to be a surprise. Fuck, when they come, you have to act surprised.
Oh, well, that makes more sense.
Betty:That’s fun. I think I can manage acting surprised. It will be nice to have my parents here for the holidays.
Uncle Dwight:I thought so too. Hey, I have to get to another meeting. We’ll chat later. Can’t wait to see the presentation.
Betty:Okay, have fun.
I set my phone down as I absorb the information about my parents coming to visit. I’m excited to see them, excited to have them here in Kringle, but I just got a whole bunch more nervous. Uncle Dwight’snon-reaction to my alternative development was odd. He’d been so determined to destroy the Maxheimers’ farm and livelihood, so his jovial acceptance just doesn’t ring true.
Ugh.
If only this was easier.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Betty
Narrator: Maybe it’s just me, but things seem to be getting more intense, don’t you think?
How do you think this Dwight-Atlas thing will play out?
Are we in the trenches, barreling toward a third-act breakup?
Heavens to Betsy—or Betty—I hope not.
If this author is smart, they’ll just play around with dipping the dong, shout out theI love yous with an epic tie-in to the town, and write an epilogue to inspire all other epilogues.
But that almost seems not their style, doesn’t it?
Soup is staying warm.
Bread is ready to be toasted.
And the drinks are chilling in the fridge.
When I got home after enjoying a long walk through the property, I took a shower, redid my hair with a blowout, and put on some mascara, but kept it at that. I had a hard time trying to figure out what to wear, because I didn’t want to seem too fancy, but I also didn’t want to come off too casual, so I chose a sweater dress but skipped the leggings. It’s warm enough in the cottage with the heat from the furnace and the stove that I’m comfortable.
I also made sure to spritz myself with some perfume, a scent that I hope drives Atlas wild.
Nerves bounce around my stomach as I wait for him to show up, wondering what he might possibly have gotten me.
I lift up the lid to the slow cooker and give my cheddar broccoli soup a stir, the carrots and broccoli I added looking really good.
I hope he likes it.
I set the lid down just as there is a knock at the door.
Excitement pulses through me as I move toward it, adjust my hair and dress, and then open it up.
Atlas is standing on the other side, wearing jeans and a green sweater, his hair still wet because he’s fresh from the shower.
