Page 200 of Merry Christmas, You Filthy Animal
He nods. “In that case, will you go out with me tomorrow?”
“It’s Christmas Eve,” I say.
“Yeah, which means you’re going to have to double up on days, because I’m going to need to see you on Christmas too. And the day after that, and the one after that...”
I chuckle. “I’m seeing a pattern.”
He tips my chin up and moves in close. “Thank you for loving me and giving me a second chance.”
“Thank you for loving me and supporting my second chance.”
“Anything for you,” he says right before his lips land on mine and I sink into his hold.
Epilogue
Max
Narrator: Don’t you just love a happily ever after?
Me too.
And this one was well deserved. In true Max fashion, he couldn’t just take the chocolate-covered cherries to her cottage. Nope, he had to shut down the streets of Kringle, clear the sidewalks, have a near accident in front of a store, trip the girl he likes, and then file out with all his comrades to make a show of it.
Just surprised he wasn’t wearing any lederhosen for the final scene.
Maybe it’s something I need to reconsider. Then again, the feathers and paint cans seem a little much.
As for me, I’ve heard there have been questions as to who I am. Well, let wondering minds rest, because my storytelling days are through. I have bigger, more important jobs to take on now that my father is retiring. And frankly, even though you have some naughty minds, I don’t think I can takeone more candy cane or chocolate-covered cherry being used inappropriately.
So... Merry Christmas, you filthy animals. Bob Krampus Junior, over and out.
“Our baby is going to marry your baby one day,” I say as I squeeze Betty’s hand while sitting on the porch of Cole and Storee’s house.
“Yeah, not happening,” Cole says while he hands a lemonade to his pregnant wife.
Yup, Storee is pregnant again, with baby number three, and my wife is pregnant with baby number one.
Yeah, you read that right.
Wife.
It took me three months to muster the courage to ask, only for her to accept and tell me the same day that she was pregnant. Talk about a whirlwind of emotions. We kept the wedding small and intimate because Betty was battling some really bad morning sickness but still wanted to get married sooner rather than later. We got married on the farm under the tall pine trees. Florence was the flower girl and stole the show—that was until Betty walked down the aisle in a simple floor-length white dress and a flower crown.
Best day of my life.
We took a small honeymoon up in Estes Park where we got some cherry pie and hung out in Rocky Mountain National Park, sleeping in late and spending our days lounging.
Now that we’re back, Cole and Storee shared with us their important news.
“You’re right. Our baby will be too good for your baby,” I say.
“Hey,” Storee says, insulted. “These are unborn children.”
“Sorry,” I say on a wince. “But your son would be lucky to take my daughter’s hand.”
“He’s right,” Betty says with a wink.
“Oh, I know,” Storee says. “Because if he’s any bit as grumpy as his father, he’ll be very lucky.”
