Today on Drabble Wednesday I celebrate the Christmas season…
strangely. I have some new drabbles and two old favourites of mine. Enjoy, and
Happy Holidays!
The Tree
Every year.
Every year they erect the garish, smelly thing.
With its scent of evergreen assaulting my nose, and its
blinking lights disturbing nap time. Not to mention it’s a giant scratching
post. And those dangly ornaments.
It’s like they dare me.
It’s not as if they tuck it in corner. No, it’s in the MIDDLE
OF THE ROOM. IN THE WAY. What am I supposed to do, walk around the monstrosity?
I think not.
So why do they get mad when I pounce? Oh, the language I
hear.
Truly, it’s their fault.
What else is a cat to do?
~*~
Naughty List
Cheesecake and Snickerdoodle waited in the shadow of the
Christmas tree, tails wagging in anticipation. The two terriers knew Santa was
coming; their namesake treats lay on a plate next to a tall glass of milk. They
missed their shot last year, falling asleep too soon, but this year would be
different.
Yes, this year had success written all over it, and a place
in the dog hall of fame. They’d sink their chompers into Santa, maybe get a
piece of Santa’s rump, complete with a velvet souvenir.
They both knew it would be epic. Even better than the
postman.
~*~
Christmas Wars
Jingles the reindeer found the crumpled corpse under the
Christmas tree, missing a hand. He pawed the body, but it was too late.
“Why? Why? Who would do this awful thing to the Elf on the
Shelf?”
“A great disturbance, I sense.”
A tiny wizened green creature appeared from beneath the
holiday foliage. In his hands he carried the Elf’s missing appendage and a
shiny cylindrical object. He stared at the deceased Elf.
“Teaching him, I was. Listen, he did not. Defeated not the
enemy, failed did he.”
A laugh rang out. “He underestimated the power of the dark side.”
~*~
A Fairy Tale Christmas Story
Once upon a time, far from the land of BB guns, there was
me, Rutherford B. Hasenpheffer, and like all boys (aged 6-12) I had a Christmas
wish. I wanted a dragon (yes, you heard me, a dragon). One legendary,
fire-breathing, winged lizard.
I badgered my parents night and day for a year, following
them around the castle, begging for a dragon.
“No,” they said. Repeatedly. Consistently.
But I persisted, until somewhere around November they
relented. So I found a baby dragon under the Christmas tree.
The only problem—the darn beast burned down the castle and
now we’re homeless.
~*~
Christmas Eve
Lights glow from the Christmas tree, softly reflecting
through the windowpane frost. The faint scent of pine and undertone hints of
mulled wine imbue the room. Ribbons and
bows and papered packages await the morning, while from somewhere above a snore
or two drifts downstairs.
Everyone sleeps, pretty dreams and wonders in their heads,
waiting in slumber for the morrow. All
is calm and quiet. At least inside. If you listen, really listen, while as the
snowflakes fall outside, you can hear. Sprinkled with the moonlight, there’s
the jingling of bells and jolly laughter with a hearty, ho, ho, ho…
