Snow like baby powder fell from the sky during the morning of
Christmas Eve in Northern Wisconsin. Cindy was extremely excited
about unwrapping and discovering the identity of the gifts nestled
underneath the real pine tree situated in the middle of the living
room. The tree almost took on its on personality. During the
decorating, the branches would refuse to bend in the perfect
direction for the hanging of dried cherries and popcorn. Don’t even
mention the struggle necessary to adorn the top of the tree; an
overweight Cherubim is not meant to be so high up.
But forget about the past. Now was the day to receive the long awaited goods. Before that could happen, though, Cindy had to sit through a wild, boring, and redundant late lunch conversation with her family.
Cindy’s mother, Jenna, was fussing and freaking out about getting all the food on to the table at the same time. She wanted the cold entrees to stay frigid, and the warm items to stay blazing hot.
“Jenny, get those cheesy potatoes out of the oven,” screeched her mother.
“Calm down, mother. We all like it when the potatoes are well browned.”
“JUST GET THE DISH OUT OF THE COOKER!” Her mother was ready to have a nervous breakdown. The turkey was not as tender as Jenna had hoped, and she was trying to make up for it with the veggies and casseroles.
Grandma Wilson walked in the door and gave everyone in the house a stranglehold hug and a kiss full of drool.
“Glad to see you, Grandma,” lied Cindy. She hated this overprotective maternal force in her life.
“Honey, I have the best gift for you. Just you wait.”
Cindy was sure it was just a box of sugary cheerios or a rice cooker or a knick-knack-patty-whack-throw-the-dog-a-bone type of present. She wondered when Grandma would run out of this junk, or when Grandma would croak and all her crap would be burned or given to the poor.
Jenna finally had all the victuals on the table, and everyone commenced eating. While Grandma had her mouth full of dry turkey, Cindy asked her a question.
“What was it like growing up on a farm?”
Old Wilson started to answer but was forced to stop. She started making crowing noises as a chunk of turkey became lodged in her throat. Everyone stared in disbelief. Nobody knew what to do to help her. Cindy’s father leapt from the table and started whacking Grandma on the back, but to no avail. She just started to turn a shade of blueberry. Before long, Grandma was on the floor and Christmas Eve dinner was ruined. Instead of opening presents that night, the Wonaker family buried Grandma in a box in the backyard.
But forget about the past. Now was the day to receive the long awaited goods. Before that could happen, though, Cindy had to sit through a wild, boring, and redundant late lunch conversation with her family.
Cindy’s mother, Jenna, was fussing and freaking out about getting all the food on to the table at the same time. She wanted the cold entrees to stay frigid, and the warm items to stay blazing hot.
“Jenny, get those cheesy potatoes out of the oven,” screeched her mother.
“Calm down, mother. We all like it when the potatoes are well browned.”
“JUST GET THE DISH OUT OF THE COOKER!” Her mother was ready to have a nervous breakdown. The turkey was not as tender as Jenna had hoped, and she was trying to make up for it with the veggies and casseroles.
Grandma Wilson walked in the door and gave everyone in the house a stranglehold hug and a kiss full of drool.
“Glad to see you, Grandma,” lied Cindy. She hated this overprotective maternal force in her life.
“Honey, I have the best gift for you. Just you wait.”
Cindy was sure it was just a box of sugary cheerios or a rice cooker or a knick-knack-patty-whack-throw-the-dog-a-bone type of present. She wondered when Grandma would run out of this junk, or when Grandma would croak and all her crap would be burned or given to the poor.
Jenna finally had all the victuals on the table, and everyone commenced eating. While Grandma had her mouth full of dry turkey, Cindy asked her a question.
“What was it like growing up on a farm?”
Old Wilson started to answer but was forced to stop. She started making crowing noises as a chunk of turkey became lodged in her throat. Everyone stared in disbelief. Nobody knew what to do to help her. Cindy’s father leapt from the table and started whacking Grandma on the back, but to no avail. She just started to turn a shade of blueberry. Before long, Grandma was on the floor and Christmas Eve dinner was ruined. Instead of opening presents that night, the Wonaker family buried Grandma in a box in the backyard.
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