The XMAS Terror- Part 1
Gear up for the holidays
Jimmy sat down on
the big
trunk, dangling his legs. his excitement bubbled within,
generating twitters of
nervousness throughout his body. Underneath,
trapped inside the trunk, he felt the
pressure of the ornaments
budding, their old dusty smell of christmas’ past
leaking out
through the cracks in the aged oak.
Outside, the
screen
door slammed, and he listened expectedly as the slow dragging sound
of a
tree became apparent behind the loud, pounding footsteps of his
father.
“Jimmy! Get
the screen, will you? This damn trees gouging my eyes
out!”
Frank yelled, his voice gravelly. It was the drinking that did it.
That,
and the cigars. Direct from his fathers ‘business’
partners… Although
what frank’s aluminum siding import
business had to do with huge sums of money
and freinds in the cubani
communista’s was far beyond him. It all had to do with
doing
what you had to do… One of dad’s favorite sayings.
Jimmy left the
trunk, reluctantly, and squeaked open the screen door. A huge
tree
pushed into him, grumbling and mumbling as it passed by, forcing
itself
through the tiny new jersey doorway. Once inside, it flopped
down with a
sigh.
“i tell ya,
jim boy. This is your job from now on,”
his father said, falling
into the complaining easy chair from which he performed most
of his
chores at home. “youre.. What, now. Seven? Good a time as any to
take
over the mans duties. Why, when i was seven blah lah lah
blah…” He dragged
on.
Jimmy hopped up
onto his lap. “dad, can we put the
ornaments on now? Can we?
Huh?” He said eagerly.
“sure,
just
decorate it on the floor there.”
“frank! Dont
give
the child ideas,” his mom called from the kitchen. She was
always worrying about
‘ideas’ he might catch like a cold.
A cloud
of
annoyance foamed across franks face. There were times, and christmas
was one of
them, when yelling and fighting rose to a crescendo. Frank
would dissapear, come home
days later. Or else he would force his way
and win. The look on his face now was one
of winning.
“margie, im
not giving the kid any
‘ideas’. This is about principles!”
He yelled, turning
red.
“go on up to
your room, boy. Ive got a feeling about this
one. I tell you..”
And here he leaned close, clouds of cigar smell wafting out
in
invisible odiferous waves, whispering.
“christmas…
Is too
damn normal. Well i promise you, jim boy, this one aint goin
to be. Not if old frankie
can do a damn thing about it.” Leaning
back, he scooted him on his way with a pat
on the butt. “leave
this one to me,” he said, grinning, as he heaved himself
out of
the chair on a mission to mom.
Jimmy bolted
upstairs, and
into his room where he closed the door. He didnt really
care about a normal or
un-normal christmas. He just wanted christmas.
But his dad, Jimmy knew he was crazy.
Sometimes the police had to
come, and sometimes, when he would act really weird, he
would have to
take shots of some medicine every half hour. Then, after a week
or
so, he would be back to normal for a while.
Going over to
his
desk, Jimmy opened the secret locked drawer where he kept all his
secret
chemistry equipment. Chemistry was the closest freind he had,
beside danny and beth,
who lived next door. It was part of why he
couldnt wait for christmas. For months now,
he had talked about
nothing but the super secret scientist chemistry spectacular,
the
largest chemistry experiment set sold in the world. Over five-hundred
and
thirty different bottles of powders, fourty different kinds of
acids and base’s,
a set of one hundred mixing tubes and a
booklet comprised of “1000 experiements
in chemistry!”,
Written by dr. Secret himself. But best of all was the
microscope
and glass slides, made by dick voigt industries.
Pulling
out his
old, beat up freind, the 100x eddie scientific, he turned it over
lovingly
in his tiny hands. It would be sad to part with it, but he
knew in his heart of hearts
that he had outgrown it. He had been
getting into the oaxacalic acid compunds lately,
complex organic
constructions, and they hovered just on the verge of being in
focus.
But with the xlm 3000x that came with the chemistry spectacular kit,
it
would be possible to go way past the oaxacalic’s, perhaps
even, his heart
fluttered, into the very heart of the micocylicic
agents!
Carefully setting
down the 100x, Jimmy heard the sounds of battle drifting upward
from
below. He knew that he was getting the chemistry spectacular, because
while he
had been seeing the matinee of ‘dollhouse of terror iv’
with danny and beth
at the old peroxy downtown, which was right
across the street from ‘young
scientist’s toy and supply’,
he had seen his mother park in front of the
store and walk in. Then
he had seen the store manager mr. Perry, reach into the front
window
and pull out the very set on display. In the end, his mother had
walked out
with a wrapped present the very size of the set.
After she had
driven
off, he pulled danny and beth over to the store. “why do
you wanna go
there?” Danny complained. “yeah,” beth
said. “you practically live
there.”
But they had all
gone in to see mr.
Perry.
“hello there,
Jimmy,” he said, smiling behind his
huge walrus-like pure white
mustache. His eyes were always lit up like christmas
bulbs. “what
can i do for you today?”
“i want to
see
the spectacular kit again, mr. Perry.”
Mr. Perry
looked
down for a second. “well, im sorry, Jimmy, but i just sold my
last
one.”
Jimmy’s heart
had leapt. Looking around, he saw
there were no other customers in
the store. It was mom! She had bought the last set!
Trying to hide
his secret joy, he frowned. “well, will you have any more
in?
Before christmas, you know?”
“im afraid not
Jimmy. But
i’ll tell you what. I’ll make you a deal, just
between you and me
and…” He moved his eyes over to the tiny
bottle set reverently upon the shelf
behind him. It was an altar,
which only him and Jimmy knew of. Mr. Perry had bought
the bottle off
of someone he had met years ago, a government man, a medical
doctor.
The bottle, the man said, contained a tiny slice of the brain of
albert
einstein.
Jimmy smiled,
leaning closer. Danny and beth were
looking distractedly through the
old comic book rack. “what, mr.
Perry?”
“why dont you
come back after christmas, and if
you still want one, i can get it
for you for one dollar!”
“one dollar!”
Jimmy whispered. His bets were covered now. If mom had messed
up and
gotten something else, he could take the money aunt emilia always
sent for
christmas and get his own!
“thanks, mr.
Perry! Youd really
do that?”
“i swear on..
The brain!” He had said,
reaching out to shake Jimmy’s
hand.
“Jimmy! Come
down for dinner!” He heard his mother yelling. She was
angry,
which meant she had lost. At the table, amid the glowers, he ate his
beans
silently. It was nice being on christmas vacation and all, but
he found himself
frequently wishing all the extra time he had to
spend with mom and dad would just go
away, since 90% of it was spent
in them fighting.
“ahem.
Ahem,
hem.” His father cleared his throat. It was time for a speech.
His
mother ignored the both of them, except to prod Jimmy into eating
the
broccoli.
“Jimmy, your
mother and i have had a little
discussion, and weve come to a
reasonable conclusion about this holidy before us,
christmas.”
He pasued, setting
down his spoon and fork
combination, the spork.
“christmas, as
you well know, is
something special. But how can it be special, when
its meant to be celebrated the same
way, on the same day, by
everybody at the same exact time? You follow? So this year,
were
celebrating christmas two and a half days early. Just beacuse. And
also, were
decorating the tree just where it is now. It is not to be
stood up, not to be watered,
presents will not be put under it. If
god so wishes us all to kill trees, then isnt it
better we recognize
it for what it is, and not try and ‘water the roots’,
or
bring a live tree indoors? Is there anything so absurd? No, we killed
this tree,
and so we will witness its death. Let it lie where its
fallen. Ahem. Do you follow my
logic?”
Jimmy certainly
didnt, but he nodded anyway. Two and a
half days early! Why, that
certainly he understood.
“and
by
celebrating the event three days early,” his father continued,
“we
shall be over the hump, well rested, and prepared to really
pay attention to what
chrsitmas is all about without all the stress
and dysfunctionality that plagues most
of the country today.”
Lying in
bed,
staring at the molecular construction posters that lined his walls
glowing in
the silvery moonlight, Jimmy counted. Three days early…
That meant… One, two
three, four.. Only four days till christmas!
He couldnt help feeling his dad wasnt
that crazy after all. Just wait
till he told danny and beth! Maybe, just maybe, they
could plan it so
they could all have two cristmas’!
Eventually, tiring,
he scratched the bump behind his ear. It had been itching ever
since
he had helped dad bring the old ornament chest up from the basement.
It had
been covered with some sort of silvery, moldy fungus, stuffed
since last year into the
corner of the basement with the dirt floor
and the damp smell. Ordinarily, that corner
was always empty, walled
off with an old piece of plywood. But since Jimmy had been
growing
out of all his clothes and toys latey, his parents had moved the
trunk over
behind it so as to store all the brown grocery bags
stuffed with the detritus of his
blossoming past. And when they had
gone down to get the trunk, it had become warped
and stained with the
moisture.
“put it
outside”,
mom had said, but dad had insisted it was a natural
smell, not a bad one created by
scientists in a lab somewhere. Frank
was constantly attacking science, even though he
kept getting Jimmy
chemistry books and physics experiments and things about the
stars
and cosmos. And once, he had taken Jimmy on a tour of betadyne
corporation,
and they had got to see all the men in white coats
mixing different liquids in little
tubes and containers, which, by
now, Jimmy knew all the correct names of. In
particular, frank
introduced him to jerry halmorth, who was working on devising a
new
compuond which would adhere to aluminum and be resistant to changes
in cold
weather. It was all part of dad’s plan to start selling
things to the
canadians.
When they lifted
the trunk up the stairs, Jimmy had
become coated in the fine silvery
white dust which clung to its outside. He should
have worn gloves
like his dad, mother had scolded, but he didnt care. But
now,
itchining, he saw the same silver powder come away on his hand.
Scratching the bump
some more, Jimmy waited for the snow banks
of tiredness to bathe his
eyes in the weightlessness of
sleep.
“Jimmy! Wake
up! Breakfast!”
Mom’s voice penetrated his dreams.
Jimmy popped up in
bed, the
smell of bacon and eggs already in his nose. Scampering
downstairs, he skidded to a
halt.
“wheres mom?”
He said to frank, sitting in front of
a cold plate of oatmeal.
“been out.
Went shopping.” Frank
mumbled through a mouthful of oatmeal,
engaged in his paper.
“but
i
thought.. I heard…” He must have been dreaming. Dejectedly, he
walked
towards the fridge.
“goddamn those
russians! Think they can
weasle in on the aluminum market… Fah.
Jimmy, get me the portable, will ya… Gotta
call jerry.”
Jimmy handed him
the portable from the kitchen
counter.
“are there any
eggs? “ he asked timidly, so as not
to interrupt franks
punctuated dialing.
“oatmeal.
Hi,
jerr, listen. You know the canadien deal. Well, the bah bah bah
blah…”
Listenening to his
dads businesspeak fade off into
unintelligibility, Jimmy wandered
into the livingroom, the option of oatmeal already
curdling his
stomach into a tasteless gob of dry hardened wood pulp. Walking
over
to the chest, his eyes still clogged with sleep, he sat down in front
of it,
letting it’s smells wash over him.
“damn them…”
Frank
wandered in muttering, slamming the phone on the t.v. stand.
Seeing Jimmy, he paused,
as if struggling to remember what this boy
was doing here. Oh yes, Jimmy saw the
thought struggle to the
surface; his son.
“Jimmy,
I’m
busy today. Gotta go out. Listen, its up to you today. I want that
tree
decorated by the time I get back. Deal?”
Jimmy nodded
silently.
Contrary to the newspaper reports, he cherished the moments
when he could be a
latchkey kid. Frank turned, gathering up his
papers and files scattered over the room,
and, grabbing his coat,
spoke over his shoulder on the way out the
door.
“Don’t
forget to eat something. Oatmeals in the
microwave.”
And then he
was
gone.
Alone, Jimmy turned
on the TV.
Captain Gemarvelous was on, the one with the wacky mutated
rabbit sidekick. To the
background of battlescenes and explosions, he
wandered into the kitchen. The frosted
pop-up cereal bars were behind
the peaches in the cupboard, but he had to climb up on
the counter to
get at them. Reading the package as he discarded the twelve
different
layers of foil/plastic/cardboard wrapping each bar came in, he
calculated
that one could live quite nutritiously off of only three
bars a day. Just like
astronauts, or submarine men, he thought,
feeling the excitement as if he were
one.
Munching on bar #2,
he walked back into the livingroom and
threw open the chest. Inside,
shiny objects reflected red, orange, blue yellow and
gold, throwing
their light up onto the ceiling. Reaching in and mucking about,
he
lifted the entire heap onto the floor. Everything was glued together
in a
Christmas synaptic mess. Tangles begun 7 Christmas’s ago,
woven into a knot which
time could never unwind, lay in a heap upon
the livingroom rug, its own history of
stains and abuse glaringly
evident beside the glittery reflections of the ornaments
and tinsel
kept bright by careful storage.
The morning passed
in
a timeless process of unwinding, refitting and untangling to the
backdrop of captain
gemarvelous, the three mouse-o-maniacs, and the
froo-froo machines. But in the end,
satiated, frosted pop-up cereal
bar wrappers scattered amongst the crumbs and loose
tinsel fragments,
he regarded the tree with more than a modicum of
pride.
Sitting on its side
had simplified the decoration process.
There were only really three
sides to the tree now. The newly discovered bonus was
that nothing
had to be hung; only placed on top of a branch, perhaps tied down
with
tinsel or popcorn wire on the thinner ones. In addition, the
bottom of the tree by the
trunk was now fully exposed to view.
Inside, Jimmy had built a small church of
Santa’s, all different
sizes, some green, some red; some fuzzy, some hard and
plastic, some
made from cloth. Arranged on all the branches as if in a
forested
cathedral, they paid homage to the large paper mache angel with
the
lightbulb inside, usually the tree topping.
Standing back
and
surveying the effect, Jimmy felt that somehow, something was missing.
The
ornaments had a heaped-on feeling, like snow had somehow fallen
too quickly and
haphazardly. And in between them, the branches, still
green and verdant, seemed naked
and bare.
Retreating to the
chest, Jimmy peered inside. If there
was anything left… But no.
Only tinsel shards, an old piece of wrapping newspaper,
some broken
glass from an unknown hanging… And a small bottle, gleaming
with
silvery whiteness.
Picking it up,
Jimmy held it to the
light, turning it around. It was old, antiquey
looking, with a glass stopper. Tiny
bubbles were trapped inside the
clear blown glass. It was the kind of thing he had
seen in museum
exhibits of old apothecaries or pharmacies, used to hold an
ancient
tincture of bumbastis or something. Some glitter clung to a tiny
crack on
the bottom of the bottle, whitish and fine, like powdered
graphite.
Inside, tiny waves
of glitter floated, slowly moving to internal currents.
Fascinated,
Jimmy felt his gaze soften as he stared into the patterns. Unlike
the
snow globes he had spent hours watching, in particular the one with
the empire
state building embedded in a watery, snowy grave with an
attached ashtray on top, the
glitter did not fall or settle too
quickly. Like lighter than air particles, for he
could see no liquid
whatsoever, the glitter particles moved with a life of their
own,
defying gravity. It would be the perfect thing for the tree, he found
himself
thinking, almost against his will.
Grabbing the
stopper, he
slowly worked it out, fighting a force stronger than
mom’s canned dried apricots.
Once, the vacuum-pack machine had
malfunctioned, creating such a tight suction inside
the mason jars
that they had had to resort to breaking the bottles in order to
get
out the fruit. And once, during a particularly cold spell, which had
frozen
even the honey in the pantry, a few had imploded in the night
like gunfire, causing
mom to call the police.
Eventually, the
stopper popped open with a
tiny spurt of smell, a smell of old moldy
socks, of too many people breathing in a
closed space. The glitter
flew into his eyes from the tension, filling his nose and
covering
his lips. Jimmy coughed, spitting, and set the bottle down. In
the
kitchen, he washed his face and mouth out. It was the same glittery
powder he
had gotten all over his hands from carrying the trunk, and
it clung with the same
tenacious feeling of tiny claws gripping
wherever they landed.
Taking the bottle
up again, he unceremoniously dumped its contents on the tree.
It
sparkled as if a cloud of ice crystals had formed. It was the most
beautiful
tree ever. Jimmy knew Danny and Beth would think so.
Scratching the bump behind his
ear, he let out a loud explosive burp
which, rumbling like thunder, seemed to create a
visual fog obscuring
the room. Yes, it was a burp captain gemarvelous would be proud
of.
Later that evening
when mom still
hadn’t shown up, frank slammed open the screen
door. Jimmy had been re-reading
his old, tattered comics. He barely
glanced at the tree.
“Where’s
your mother?” He spoke disapprovingly. “Ive got to
leave
tomorrow.”
“She’s
not home,” Jimmy
mumbled, trying to concentrate on doughboy
alien meatfest #4.
Frank
stopped
putting his coat in the closet.
“Listen.
That’s a fine tree there. Looking good. Let’s
have
Christmas tonight, ok? Ive got some stuff to do before I go. Why
don’t
you go upstairs and get all the presents outta the closet
where mom hid em. Bring em
all down. Kay?”
Jimmy nodded.
Standing up, frank ruffled his
hair as he rushed past to do the
bidding.
Mom came home
wearing her bowling shirt and stinking of beer. When she saw
the
tree, with the presents all around it like an island of ceremony,
unto itself
throughout space, time and history, she laughed out loud.
But not a funny laugh, more
like a cackle. A witch’s curse.
Moving into the kitchen with a blurry glance at
Jimmy, she ran into
frank, the table stacked high with his papers. As the sound of
combat
engaged grew, the door swung shut. Soon, only the sounds of cotton
filled
the livingroom like snow.
Jimmy sat and
waited for each muffled
word to fall, for every little rise in volume
to indicate some kind of resolution, but
it was all eclipsed by the
anger and tension balled up inside him. Whirling around in
confusion
like so many little numbered lottery balls, all the various
feelings
could find no real ground to settle upon. When would it all stop,
he
wondered, holding back tears. But secretly, he knew the answer; the
second he
got to rip open the cheap wrapping paper from the chemistry
spectacular. It would all
be worth it then.
The silvery dust
still clung to his hands,
even after he had scrubbed them to death in
the sink. It seemed to migrate in a
fascinating way, even though it
itched like nothing else.
The door opened and
frank pounded in, his face contorted into a percolating milkshake
of
rage. Jimmy’s heart jumped, startled.
“Jimmy,
you’re
on your own. Open em up, boy. Ive gotta run. Be back in a couple
of
days. Merry Christmas.”
He grabbed his coat
with a
vengeance off the rack and slammed open the door, moving
through like a whirlwind on
its way out of town. And then he was
gone.
From the
kitchen,
quiet sobs drifted out. Jimmy slowly moved to the door, not wanting
to go
through it, but compelled to. When dad was gone, mom was the
only other authority in
his life. Except for his chemistry, of
course.
Pushing slowly,
the
door creaked open. Mom sat at the kitchen table, her head in her
hands, quietly
weeping.
“Mom?”
Jimmy said quietly, the words barely escaping
his lips. The force of
emotional gravity seemed to suck everything back below the
event
horizon, not even light or sound could escape its pull.
She
stopped for a
second and looked at him through tear drenched eyes, and put on
her
best fake smile.
“Jimmy….
What is it,
hon?”
Her breath smelled
of beer and cheap
wine.
“Mom, are we
gonna have Christmas?”
She stopped smiling
for a minute. For a second, Jimmy seemed to recognize a future
self,
seemed to understand that things like confusion and situations were,
in a
way, timeless. When they happened to you now, they would happen
to you again. You
could always recognize the emotional space, could
name it, and classify it. But that
was it. Comprehension and
understanding stopped right there. And then, after that
timeless
moment, she suddenly spoke, shattering the instant into
forgetfulness,
relegating it to the past.
“Jimmy, mom’s
not feeling
well. Why don’t you just have Christmas yourself?
There’s a lot of nice
Christmas presents under the tree for
you.” And then, with a small guilty look,
she reached into her
pocket and pulled out ten dollars.
“Here’s
some money. Why don’t you go get yourself a pizza, or
whatever
you want? I’m going upstairs. Get some sleep.”
She hauled herself
over to the fridge, pulled out a six-pack of bud blue pabst label
and left silently up the stairs.
Jimmy stood in the
silent
kitchen, the humm of the fridge filling the space like smooth,
comforting foam.
Shoving the ten in his pocket, he sidled over to the
cupboard and pulled down the box
of frosted pop-up cereal bars.
Empty. Just like his heart. Just like his feelings. His
caring.
Setting his jaw against the injustices of the world, he resolved then
and
there to harden his pre-pubescent soul. This was the beginning of
a new career, a
budding nihilist devoted to televised distraction…
And chemistry.
Suddenly, his
skills began to take on a new light. Chemistry wasn’t
just
interesting, it could be highly destructive. And wasn’t
destruction just
another form of creativity, really? Explosives were
really just about breaking things
down, releasing the hidden tensions
that bound the universe together. Tensions which
worked against love,
against feelings, against caring.
In the
living room,
Jimmy confronted the presents. Frank had stepped on one little box
on
the way out, crushing it. Its paper lay torn, abused. Bending over,
Jimmy
carefully lifted it up like a wounded bird. Turning it over, he
saw his name scribbled
on it. “To Jimmy. From frank.” It
was his mom’s handwriting of course.
Sliding out the
inner wrapping from the torn box, he pulled
out a soggy plastic bag
dripping water. Inside, he could see a sno-globe, its perfect
sphere
cracked with veins of destruction. Within, in a half-pool of water
and
fallen snow, which would never rise again, a small family stood
in front of their
house, laughing and smiling.
Jimmy balled his
fists up. His hatred
of frank grew and grew as he struggled to hold
back the tears. Throwing the globe in
disgust, it shattered against
the fireplace with a dull ‘pfop’, sliding
slowly down the
brick facade, where it lay slowly bleeding like a crash test
dummy
filled with oil.
Jimmy turned with a
vengeance to the
biggest of the four presents. He knew what was in
it; everything else would only be
ruined fluff, like franks globe.
Kneeling as if before a religious idol, Jimmy felt
the package,
turning its mass lovingly over and over in his hands.
And then, in one
quick instant, the wrapping was off. The spectacular lay revealed
in
all its holy beauty. All the glittering twinkling tubes, the petri
dish’s,
the vials of unknown compounds, their surfaces waiting
the be explored, understood….
And of course, the xlm 3000x, the
super-ultimate microscope, its powers of
magnification so intense, so
far removed from the world of mom and frank and their
stupid
fights…
But Jimmy had no
need to think of them now.
Tearing off the clear crystal wrapper, he
pulled the scope out and lovingly ran his
youthful hands over the
black, streamlined body. A length of time passed, of which he
had no
recognition as to its duration. Everything seemed to slip, slide and
fall
into the beauty of the matte black finish.
Peering into
the
blackened depths, he slid his …