Page 91 of Merry Christmas, You Filthy Animal
“Yeah, I don’t like deceiving her either. Then again, I think the BTMCs haven’t really been booby traps at all, just opportunities for me to grow fucking feelings for her. Like... when we were saying goodbye tonight, I was desperate to find another sprig of mistletoe, any excuse to kiss her one more time. I wanted to drive her home. I wanted to walk her up to her door. What is wrong with me?”
“Nothing. You found someone you’re interested in.”
“I know, but I feel like I booby-trapped myself. It wasn’t supposed to go this way. She was supposed to fall for me, and then I was supposed to pull the old switcheroo on her. Now I’m starting to like this woman, and I’m pretty sure she’s still set on taking my family and me down.”
“Do you really think that?”
I tug on my hair. “I don’t know. It just seems strange that she had an instant dislike of me, and I can’t help but think that Dwight is behind that.” She had such a negative view of me, and that was just so foreign.
“Because you’re just... you’re not what I expected.”
“And now that you are, what are you finding?”
“That you’re sweet. That you’re goofy. That you and I seem like the same rambling person.”
“I think her opinion of me is changing. But I don’t truly know where she stands when it comes to me.”
“Well, there is a way to find out.”
“Ask her?” I shake my head. “What am I going to do? Go up to her and say,Hey, Betty, are you having feelings for me? If so, could you not try to build that farm next door? Thanks.”
“No, that’s not what I was going to say.”
“Then what?” I ask.
“Time to commence phase three.”
I sit back. “What’s phase three?”
“See if we can make her jealous.”
“This is stupid, Storee. She’s not going to fall for it.”
“I know what I’m doing,” she says as she adjusts a hat on one of the six mannequins we brought over from the farm storage.
“A fake party to make her jealous? You really think that will work?”
“We’re trying to gauge her reaction. And then we’ll know what you mean to her. If she acts sad or upset that maybe you didn’t invite her, then we know she shares your feelings. If she couldn’t care less, then that’s when we have to reassess our entire approach. Because if you’re starting to grow feelings and she has none, this could end very horribly. You could end up with a broken heart and a run-down farm.”
“Wow, thanks for that.” I look around at the way Storee has set up the house.
Old mannequins from when my mom used to sell vintage Christmas-themed dresses on the farm are decked out in holiday outfits, also pulled from the archives. They are all lined up along the windows. Lamps without the shades are positioned to light up the mannequins and cast shadows against the curtains—she saw it in a movie once. She mixed some Christmas music with background noise of people chatting for me to play, and there are two revolving fans that have strings tied to them to move three of the mannequins’ arms, which we had to lubricate with WD-40, which, have you ever smelled that shit? Woof.
“I’ll text you when we hit the stop sign right before we get to your driveway. It will be a simple emoji.”
“What emoji?” I ask.
“I don’t know, just any emoji.”
“Any? Don’t you think that’s confusing?”
“How is that confusing?” she asks. “It doesn’t matter what emoji. It’s just a symbol to say,Turn everything on and get ready.”
“Okay, so we’re not doing different emojis for different signals?”
“No,” she says with force. “The emoji I choose means nothing other thanGet the fuck ready.”
“Okay, whoa, no need to swear.”
