Christmas At Wiz's - Chapter Three

The sound of Boomstick cheerfully yet loudly singing “Deck The Halls” from his room, with Jack Spaniels barking with him, wakes me up for Christmas Day. As I slowly sit up and let out a loud yawn, I can barely see out of my eyes. I wipe them before looking at the alarm clock nearby. 10:00am. Pretty late. Either I slept through it or I forgot to even set it. I get out of bed and put on my dressing gown before heading out.

Cleaning up the lab last night was an exhausting process, as was cleaning up the other rooms, so I went to bed later than usual. At least they're somewhat back to normal now, if not completely. The kitchen stills smells of burnt turkey, but hey, better than if it was something like burnt popcorn. That stench takes years to get rid of it. Believe me, I know.

I enter the living room, immediately catching sight of that strange yet surprisingly enjoyable Christmas tree again. I left Boomstick's gift there last night after sorting the rooms out. I briefly take a glimpse out the window to see if for once we've had snow, but sadly we haven't. Oh well, a man can dream. I walk over to the tree and crouch down to see what's underneath, lifting one of the beer can baubles out of the way. Boomstick's already taken his present from below, so now there's just another one left. Like the other parcel, this one is also wrapped up in newspaper. I pick it up and look at the gift tag: “To W, from B.S. :)”

I sit down on the sofa and unwrap it there. Once open, I cannot believe what I'm looking at. I pick it up and look at it more closely.

It is possibly the most asinine gift I've ever received. Essentially, it is a battered beer can made to look like some sort of robot, with pipe cleaners meant to be resembling its limbs and a face drawn on with a faded felt pen. One of the pipe cleaners is a different colour from the others, which just feels wrong. The facial expression the robot has makes it look like some sort of demented frog. Above all, with the way the limbs have been stuck on with old sticky tape, it seems very likely that it will fall apart within the next few days. Even a four year old could make something better quality than that.

There is a small device on the back of the robot with a button that I press. Where he found this device is anyone's guess. It plays a recording of Boomstick singing what can only be described as the more screwed up version of “Jingle Bells”, with mention of bleeding in the snow and a teddy bear shooting Santa Claus. Every few seconds, it keeps briefly cutting out. In short, this is a shoddily-made item that I can easily sense was made this morning before I woke up.

So why do I feel myself smiling?

I continue looking at that bizarre yet strangely charming robot for a while, feeling it in my hand and playing the song again. Eventually, I get up and head over to the lab with it. Once in there, I find the shelf with a shrunken head and some rare metal samples and place it between them. It somehow seems to fit in quite well all things considered. I give it one final look and head back out.

Boomstick's waiting for me out there, already wearing the dressing gown I gave him this year. I have to be honest, it suits him quite well. It matches that chequerboard jacket he always likes to wear.

“So?” he asks. “You like it?”

“Like what?”

“The gift I sent you.”

“Sure. I placed it on one of the shelves in there in case you're wondering.”

Boomstick chuckles to himself and heads in to look at it. I follow him and place my arm round his shoulder.

“I'll take it out whenever you want to use the lab,” I tell him. “Just in case something happens in there.”

Boomstick nods in response, a small smile across his face. After some time, he finally opens his mouth.

“So, you wanna watch Die Hard later today? Y'know, the best Christmas movie of all time?”

“Oh definitely. In fact, why don't we watch it now?”

We share a laugh together before heading out and getting the film ready.

Maybe Christmas won't be too bad this year. Especially with Boomstick celebrating with me. He may be a complete nutcase but at least things are never boring when he's around. Just like the tree in the living room.