A True Christmas Story



One Christmas, as a joke, my brother, Jeff, hanged a pair of panty hose over his fireplace, along with the kids cheerfully colored stockings.  He said he wanted Santa to fill them with his dream girl.

  

I decided to make his dream come true. I put on sunglasses and wrapped a scarf  around my head and went in search of an inflatable love doll. They don't sell those things at Wal-Mart, you know. I had to go to a seedy adult bookstore downtown. If you've never been in an X-rated store, don't go. You'll only confuse yourself. I was there an hour saying things like, "What does this do?" "You're kidding me!" "  It's a what!?"

Eventually, I found the inflatable doll section.  I wanted to buy a standard, uncomplicated doll that could also substitute as a passenger in my car so I could use the car pool lane during rush hour. Finding what I wanted was difficult. Love dolls come in many different models. The top of the line, according to the side of the box, could do things I'd only seen in a book on animal husbandry.  I settled for "Lovable Louise." She was at the bottom of the price scale.  To call Louise a "doll", let alone a "love doll", took a huge leap of imagination.

On Christmas Eve, with the help of an old bicycle pump, Louise came to life.  My sister-in-law was in on the plan and let me in during the wee morning hours, long after Santa had come and gone. I filled the dangling pantyhose with Louise's pliant legs and bottom. For modesty's sake I dressed her in a bra and panties. After all, the two kids would see her and at one and two and a half years old, respectively, I didn't want to traumatize them.  I went home, and giggled myself to sleep.

The next morning my brother called to say, between loud bursts of laughter, that Santa had been to his house and left a wonderful present that had made him VERY, AWESOMELY, happy but had upset his poor dog terribly. She would bark, walk away, whine, then come back and bark some more. We all agreed that Louise should remain hanging there in her panty hose so the rest of the family could admire her when they came over for the traditional Christmas dinner.

My grandmother noticed Louise the moment she walked in the door. "What the hell is that?" she asked.

 My brother quickly explained, "It's just a doll."
"Who would play with something like that?" Gran snapped.
I had several candidates in mind, but kept my mouth shut.

 "Where are her clothes?" Gran continued.

"Boy, that turkey sure smells nice, Gran," Jeff said, trying to steer her into the dining room.

 But Gran was relentless. "Why doesn't she have any teeth?"

Gran was playing dumb. She knew very well what kind of woman Louise was. Gran didn't fall off the back of a turnip truck.
Again, I could have answered, but why would I?   It was Christmas and no one wanted to ride in the back of the ambulance saying, "Hang on Gran, Hang on!"

My grandfather, a delightful old man, sidled up to me and, with a wink, said," Hey, who's the gorgeous gal by the fireplace?"   I told him she was Jeff's friend. A few minutes later I noticed Grandpa by the mantel, putting his glasses on to get a better look at Louise. He poked her a couple of times her and I am sure I saw him sneak a peek  into her panties. Gran was definitely  miffed at Grandpa and very offended by Louise's presence.

The dinner went well. We made the usual small talk about who had died, who was dying, and who deserved to be dead, when suddenly, Louise made a noise that sounded a lot like the gaseous explosions my father had in the bathroom some mornings. Then she lurched from the panty hose, flew around the room twice, and fell in a heap in front of the sofa.

The cat screamed and leaped up the curtains, the dog started barking again, the baby hollered  and I passed cranberry sauce through my nose. Grandpa shuffled across the room, fell to his knees, and thinking it was a great joke, he pretended to administer mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.  My brother almost fell over backwards in his chair, roaring with laughter and swore he wet his pants and Gran threw down her napkin and stomped out of the room, her dignity, much abused. It was indeed a Christmas to treasure and remember.

Later in my brother's garage, we conducted a thorough examination to decide the cause of Louise's breakdown. We discovered that Louise had suffered from a hot ember to the back of her right thigh. Fortunately, thanks to a wonder drug called duct tape, we restored her to perfect health. Louise lived on to star at several bachelor parties and was hugely popular. And I think Grandpa called her whenever he could get of the house.

 

It takes all kinds to make a merry Christmas.