Harold was a block away from home when he saw baby Jesus crawling the sidewalk like a wounded animal in search of a place to die.
“Jeez. It gets worse every damn year. What’ll
they think of next?”
Two houses further he saw Frosty the Snowman
peeking around a hedge with shifty coal eyes. On the other side of the street
Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer galloped, white electric cord dragging like a
malformed tail.
Harold grumbled. Animatronic props must be
the in thing this year, he thought. By the time Christmas came, the whole
street would be crawling with ‘em.
When Harold pulled into his driveway, he just
about lost his shit.
He’d lived in this neighborhood for fifty
years and for fifty years everyone decked out their houses with obnoxious
lights and tacky decorations. Somewhere along the way it became known as Candy
Cane Lane, but really it was a month long traffic jam.
Harold and his wife had never participated.
That’s why he became filled with anger when he arrived home to find lights on
his fascia and one of the Wisemen on his lawn. He knew one day the bastard
neighbors would take it upon themselves to decorate his house. They hated him.
Called him a Grinch, a regular bah humbugger.
Cursing under his breath, Harold grabbed a
string of lights from a low hanging eave and yanked, but the lights pulled
back. Harold paused. “What the…?”
The string of lights wrapped around his hand
and spooled up his arm.
“Christ!” Harold pulled away and bumped into
another Wiseman who grabbed Harold by the shoulders as more light strands
slithered across the street like malnourished serpents. The lights connected
with one another and wound their way up his body, entwining around his limbs.
He hollered for his wife. “Martha! Martha!”
The milti-colored lights wrapped around and
around locking male-pronged heads into female-pronged tails, one after the
other. A shape was being formed.
Harold’s voice was now muffled. “Martha!”
Reindeer pranced into the yard. Frosty
creeped along the bushes. Wreathes rolled up the drive like red and green
wheels. Christmas lights crawled into Harold’s yard, climbing the woodwork like
tentacles with tiny glass bulbs rather than suction cups.
Harold’s voice was nothing more than mumbles
behind an impenetrable layer of holiday lights that formed three balls stacked
atop one another in the creation of a snowman. Frosty removed his top hat and
placed it on the tangled mass of Harold’s head. A variety of heavy-duty
extension cords found available sockets in the stucco and connected to the
double prong plug sprouting from what had once been Harold’s feet.
He lit up in a brilliant glow of color with
darkness where the coal eyes should be.
Martha opened the front door. “Dammit,
Harold, what’s—“ The words dropped from her mouth like a hunk of lead.
Santa Clause stood there with a jelly belly
and a rosy grin. He opened his big red sack, which was suspiciously empty of
gifts. Martha took a tentative step back. That’s when the elves crowded around
and hurled her into the gaping maw of Santa’s gift sack. The jolly fellow
pulled the rope tight and knotted it while Martha screamed and flailed. Santa
then used a gutter and lattice to climb onto the roof where his reindeer
waited.
As dusk fell, the house lit up like a cheerful
explosion. The neighbors gathered ‘round and marveled at the brightest house on
Candy Cane Lane.
