Lonely and Tired

Wham Bam

Brian and Chris were engaged in building a fire in the massive fireplace. A job, they had made clear, for only the manliest of men. Not that Ange and I cared. Nope. We staked out our real estate on the sofa and kept a very careful watch on the wine bottle.

"Angie," Chris called over his shoulder as he and Brian stacked logs in the fireplace like a very complicated game of Jenga.

"Yes my little piranha fish?" she replied sweetly taking a sip of wine.

"Why don't you live up to your name and put up the Christmas tree my little angel?" the undertone of sarcasm in Chris's voice made it clear that he was well aware that Angie was no angel.

"Ah fuck. Really? Can't you?" Ange grouched.

"No, not really. I'm building the fire," Chris replied as he leaned over and consulted with Brian about log placement.

"We could swap?" Angie asked hopefully.

Brian and Chris looked at each other aghast before bursting out in a synchronised no that that would have done a pair of twins proud.

Angie flipped them off before jumping to her feet and saying, "I guess that answers that then."

We each had a length of tinsel wrapped around our heads a look that Angie declared made us the Rambo's of the Christmas tree decorating world. I wasn't sure if that made us Christmas decorating renegades and was reluctant to remind her that John McClane was the real fire power enhanced Christmas renegade. I was hanging ornaments at the top of the tree, a job Angie had decreed as mine as she wasn't tall enough to reach, when outraged shouts of "Brah! No way! That is not the way you stack the timber if you want a killer blaze!" rang out through the room.

"Oh goody," Ange essentially tossed the remaining tinsel at the tree signifying the end to her participation in decorating it, "Dumb, dumber, dumbest and dipshit are here."

Brad, Adam, Neil and John dropped their bags in a pile on the floor and hurried over to supervise the correct building of the fire. The exercise in pyromania was so important that none of the new arrivals actually connected Brian, the dude in a pair of ripped and faded black jeans and hoodie helping them to select appropriately sized and shaped logs, with Synyster Gates of Avenged Sevenfold.

Angie flitted about finding glasses, pouring wine and distributing snacks as I attempted a more even distribution of tinsel on the tree.

"Hey Ange," I said stepping back from the tree to admire my handiwork. It was one of the tackiest trees I'd ever seen, a symphony of glitter, tinsel and shiny red baubles. In other words it was perfect. "How many times exactly have you watched the Wham! 'Last Christmas' video?"

She crossed her arms, a mulish expression on her face as she said, "I have no idea to what you are referring."

I laughed and threw a candy cane at her head. It bounced off and ricocheted into Brian's arm. He glanced down at it and called out, "You better tell her what she wants to know Angie. Shit's getting real when she starts throwing stuff at your head. She threw her phone at mine."

"Shit. You threw your phone at him?" she looked at me wide eyed.

"Nah ah. You answer my question first. How many times?" I ripped the plastic off another candy cane and took a bite. Candy stuck to my back teeth so I took a sip of wine to try and wash it clear. Holy shit that was disgusting! I gagged. Red wine and peppermint candy cane were clearly not a recommended food and wine pairing.

"I've lost track. How'd you know anyway?" she asked spearing a tooth pick into a cheese cube.

"Really?" I swept an expansive arm around the scene surrounding us, "Ski lodge, wine, fire place, snow. I'm surprised you don't have a George Michael cut out lurking in a corner glowering at us over his wine glass."