Holiday Chaos #JustWriteIt #HolidayChaos

Christmas Chaos - One

Dear Santa.

I'd like to tell you that our dear old granny leaving with her cat all fuzzed up was not my fault. Neither was my parents getting scared shitless at the sight of me. It was, in fact, all of fate's work. Or maybe it was just your nemesis working against you to bring as many innocent children to the 'Naughty List'.

It all started when me and my parents went Christmas shopping, on December 13th, a Friday. None of us knew the day would soon become a disaster, though the date honestly should have been enough.

My parents' car had a broken heater, and when it is below freezing outside, you do not want to drive around, freezing your ears off until they resemble freeze-dried radishes. So we took my car.

My old baby is pretty aged, but I've kept it in good condition. My parents forced me into the back seats, and turned on the engines. The car let out a weak rumble, like it was trying to imitate a moose giving birth, but was too lazy to actually do it. I groaned at the creaking whimpers resonating from my car, and stroked its soft seats, soothing it.

"Ah, your car is . . . very interesting," my dad said, as he figured out the way to start the car. I murmured a soft defense and slouched down against the seat. Please don't look in the glove compartment, please don't look in the glove compartment. Santa, if you're real, and if I've ever been good for even a second in my life, please don't let them look in the glove compartment.

"So, erm," I began in a lame attempt to direct their attention away from the awfully conspicuous handle of the glove compartment. "Where are we going?"

My mom started smearing globs of makeup on her face, covering wrinkles and minuscule flaws. Girls.

"I thought we'd go to the mall for Christmas shopping," my dad answered, rushing a red light. I literally slapped my face before I reminded them of the mall's name, which they never remember, and for rushing the red light like that.

"Dad, be careful, today's Friday the thirteenth, anything can happen." I bit my lip and looked out the frosted windows. Bright, twinkling lights flashed from trees and houses, all of them cheerfully red, green, or yellow. Not white, because white lights are just plain dumb. Tiny Santas littered the gardens, and many clones of Rudolph with his red nose were firmly stuck on the frozen ground.

I suppose this was the reason why we needed to shop. We were behind the times, with regular clay garden gnomes scattered on our dead garden.

I pulled the hoodie over my head, along with a baseball cap, hiding from any classmates that might be lurking around, with parents that have the motives as my parents. We finally found a parking spot in the midst of clustered cars, and got out. I slowly trailed after my chatty parents, who gasped dramatically and pointed to the flashy Christmas tree.

When we reached the gaming area of the mall, I tugged on my mom's sleeve('cause, you know, moms are more lenient) and pointed to a newer version of a game console I needed to play the game I got for my birthday. "Mom, may I please get that?"

My mom blinked at the console and shook her head. "You already have that, Matthew."

I rolled my eyes at the use of my full name--I preferred being called Matt--and explained the amazing science of games, and how creators used these methods to make more money. Well, I didn't exactly elaborate on the making money part.

My mom cocked her eyebrows, and picked the package up. "Alright. But this goes off your allowance."

I bit my tongue. If the cost of the console came off my allowance, what was the difference from buying it myself? I turned to speak to my mom, but she had already hurried off to catch up with her husband, who was 'testing out' the iPad that just came out, which, by the way, was on my wish list. Hey, I'm a needy child.