The customers will let you know.<\/p>\n
I mean angrily let you know.<\/p>\n
When you work at a holiday light display in the local lakeside park featuring eight-hundred-thousand-and-forty-two little flashing, programmable, state-of-the-art, color-morphing LED lights, they will tell you if one light is out.<\/p>\n
They stop at the donation bucket before they exit, Dad rolling down his window, no money in hand. \u201cI brought my kids to see this, and you\u2019ve got lights out?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSorry to hear that. Can you tell me where\u2013\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou ought to know. You ought to keep an eye on that. Brought my kids out in this goddamned snowstorm. You ought to know.\u201d<\/p>\n
It\u2019s no snowstorm. Just a dusting. He\u2019s in a massive four-x-four truck that could probably survive an avalanche. Us workers, though, are out in the cold, seeping through our rugged gear after a few hours, hands aching and noses numbs in spite of our wood-burning stove and mulled cider.<\/p>\n
We spiked the cider with rum.<\/p>\n
\u201cHappy to fix it for you, if you let me know.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m letting you know!\u201d<\/p>\n
His wife touching his arm. \u201cVoice, honey.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sputter, sputter, sputter.<\/p>\n
I peek at the kids in the back seat. Bundled in fluffy coats, one bouncing like a spring, the other, younger, blank stare, runny nose.<\/p>\n
Husband finally says, \u201cDamn it, Sheila.\u201d<\/p>\n
That\u2019s what they do. Over one fucking light.<\/p>\n
Not, Oh thank you for all your hard work, making those eight-hundred-thousand-plus lights put on such a mesmerizing spectacle for my family!<\/p>\n
For free!<\/p>\n
\u201cWould you guys like to donate a little something? It might help us hire a few extra elves next year.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dude twists his lips at me and drive away.<\/p>\n
Three of us standing there \u2013 Mel, the woman who hired me, then keeps throwing me under the bus when things go south, and Hercules, a hardened bastard with your typical Minnesota folksy voice. He\u2019d literally gut a dude, then say, \u201cSorry bout this, don\u2019t\u2019cha know?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou could\u2019ve handled that better, wouldn\u2019t you say?\u201d Mel is fifty and used to drive trucks before her husband passed and left her a load of insurance money, a lot of which she poured into this the last few years. She\u2019s probably got callouses all over her hands and feet, but otherwise is a handsome woman. Handsome, not used enough to describe women, but it fits up here. Handsome. How do you say \u201csexy-ish but hard,\u201d right?<\/p>\n
The only reason I\u2019m even mentioning her that way is because we hooked up a few times, out here setting up this shit in November. Got to talking, her goose-and-sandpaper accent telling dirty jokes, razzing me about my sex life or lack of it \u2013 I\u2019m thirty-five, single, always have been, and I live with my widowed mother, the last of seven kids. She was forty-seven when I came along. A complete surprise. Keeping the house in shape, that\u2019s pretty much my job. Girlfriends have been infrequent, except for a few in college, one long-term relationship I\u2019d describe as \u201cgaslighting\u201d on her part, and sex? Three partners, and one was just hand-and-mouth stuff.<\/p>\n
Maybe the gaslighting had gotten to me. Maybe I had a humiliation kink or something. All I know is Mel was mean. But then she wasn\u2019t. We hung some stars in a tree, drove some stakes in the ground to hold up Santa and the reindeer, set up the web of programmed lights like a drive-thru tunnel, and before long we was up against an oak tree, her pants around her ankles, my tongue in her hairy crotch while she held the back of my head. Forced me to keep going until she\u2019d gotten off. Definitely had a musk on her. Reminded me of a doe in heat.<\/p>\n
The other times \u2013 the back of her Jeep Cherokee, in the gingerbread house in Santa\u2019s Workshop \u2013 was purely me down on her, never the other way around. Said she\u2019d gagged on enough jizz to last her a lifetime, thank you very much.<\/p>\n
Oh, she\u2019d jack me off after, but you could tell she was bored. \u201cHurry it up. Do I hafta take a boob out?\u201d<\/p>\n
Never even saw her completely naked, always in work clothes, sneakers on, tops all covered. But her ass and her muff were enough for me.<\/p>\n
I think the other employees and volunteers suspected, though. Especially Herc. Definitely Herc. Herc for sure.<\/p>\n
I sure didn\u2019t spill the beans, as I was eager to continue. I figured she\u2019d be more likely than me, the mouth on her, but I don\u2019t think she told, either. But whatever it was giving us away, she turned surly on me soon after. Nothing I did was right, even when I was a thousand-percent sure it was. In front of others, she\u2019d ride me hard, tell me I must not care about my job all that much, tell me I was an example of the lazy millennial generation, expecting everything handed to us.<\/p>\n
But when we were alone, setting up the Minions with the changing mouths, or the big tree strands with the smaller tree inside it, she\u2019d say things like, \u201cThought about you in the shower this morning. Except I pretended you were thicker\u201d and \u201cDon\u2019t take me for granted. I\u2019ll turn the spigot off on you.\u201d<\/p>\n
The meaner she was, the more I\u2019d wanted her, and now it was goddamn aggravating, her telling me I needed to find someone my own age, who didn\u2019t have enough experience to be disappointed as she was in me.<\/p>\n
But I wasn\u2019t going to clue her in. I took everything she dished with a grin and an \u201cAw, come on, now.\u201d<\/p>\n
Two weeks into the season, that dad is one of fifty, sixty others who feel the need to lodge a complaint about a light out, a faulty program, or not all the stars working on the giant American flag that\u2019s supposed to look like it\u2019s waving, but instead looks schizo. And what says \u201cChristmas\u201d more than a forty-foot-tall American flag with elves at the bottom saluting the drivers. Not the flag, no sir, but the drivers. Dead-eyed creepy elf fuckers robotically raising and lowering their hands to their foreheads. Salute!<\/p>\n
He drives off and Mel tell me I should\u2019ve been nicer.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow much nicer could I be?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou didn\u2019t have to ask him for money.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo lie. We need more help.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWe don\u2019t need more help.\u201d She sighs and looks at Herc like, You believe this guy? \u201cWe need you to work faster and stop looking at porn on your phone.\u201d<\/p>\n
I shake my head, smiled and thanked a few cars on their way out, all of them stopping to let their kids drop change in the donation basket. Real coinage. The small ones, too. Not the quarters they keep in the ashtray to rent their Aldi carts.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell?\u201d Mel stands with her hands on her cocked hip.<\/p>\n
\u201cWell what?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWell what? Well, let\u2019s go walk the path, find the light that\u2019s out.\u201d<\/p>\n
Herc snorts. Herc glares.<\/p>\n
Eight-hundred-thousand-and-forty-two lights. Most of them blinking in and out all the time. \u201cSure, Mel.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m not kidding.\u201d She takes a step closer. Lots of cider on her breath. Lots of rum. \u201cWe find it, we fix it.\u201d<\/p>\n
So off we go down the snow-crunchy path, temps in the low teens, windy, to find the bad lights. I\u2019ve got a bucket of spares, but there\u2019s no order to them. Probably take an hour to find each replacement. The twinkly stars in the trees don\u2019t matter. Hard to tell if any of those are blown. But the digital ones, running on programs, like a web of the damn things? When a chain of those goes, the whole effect is ruined.<\/p>\n
We examine the drive-through arch, and Mel finds it, like a creepy shadow. Looks like a bat flying across the pinks the greens.<\/p>\n
I tell her, \u201cI don\u2019t think that\u2019s the light bulbs. I think that\u2019s the program.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSo you\u2019re a computer expert now? All that porn on your phone makes you Bill Gates?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHey, I don\u2019t look at porn on my phone, okay?\u201d But of course I do. Everyone does. \u201cIf it was the bulbs, it wouldn\u2019t follow across the whole net.\u201d<\/p>\n
The truth is I don\u2019t know. I just don\u2019t want to get the ladder and stand up there testing each one.<\/p>\n
\u201cOkay, so the next pissed-off dad who complains, you explain it to him. How it\u2019s the program. How he should pay us for better computers.\u201d<\/p>\n
She\u2019s got chapped lips. I want to lick them.<\/p>\n
We walk on.<\/p>\n
Santa\u2019s got one bad eye. I replace it, but it\u2019s the wrong shade of white.<\/p>\n
The \u201cseizure dragon,\u201d as we call the monster, has a good twenty or more red and green flashers not working. I spend the next half-hour blinding myself trying to pop them out and pop new ones in. Mel just waves at the cars and says, \u201cHurry up, you\u2019re ruining the illusion.\u201d<\/p>\n
When I turn to her, all I see are strobing globes. \u201cWhat illusion?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThat this ain\u2019t fucking hayseed Minnesota! That this is the big city, a fucking winter wonderland! That the kids believe in goddamn Santa Claus!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cMel! It\u2019s a dragon!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes! A big goddamn whale of a dragon that surprises and delights!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt ain\u2019t Christmas! Dragons ain\u2019t Christmas!\u201d<\/p>\n
She stomps over to me and slaps the sass right out of my mouth. In full view of a Lutheran church van, too. \u201cNever tell someone what is or isn\u2019t Chrsitmas. We\u2019ve got Somalis come through here, Muslims, and they don\u2019t want Jesus. They want America and a big dragon and Santa Claus. We\u2019ve got Mexicans, working hard, who want to feel closer to home, the heat and the sand, so we\u2019ve got palm trees and camels.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat? Camels? Mexican camels?\u201d<\/p>\n
She drops her jaw, does googly eyes, mocking me. \u201cI didn\u2019t say they were Mexican camels. I just said\u2026forget it. Just forget it .Just\u2026go. You\u2019re fired. Go.\u201d<\/p>\n
Maybe I want to argue with her. Maybe her getting pissed at me is a turn on. But it just so happens my strobes wear off, and over her shoulder I spy some teenagers in a car more expensive than my mother\u2019s house and louder than Mel, windows down, laughing and taping the drive through the magical lights.<\/p>\n
Spoiled rotten. A fucking Acura SUV in candy-apple red, the driver not even out of high school and probably drunk on pink lemonade vodka. Her friends all holding thousand-dollar smartphones out the window, probably posting this all to their Instas later, narrating.<\/p>\n
\u201cHere.\u201d I hand Mel the bucket. I walk over to the Acura. I ask the girls if they mind me hitching a ride back to the beginning.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat about your mom?\u201d The driver asks.<\/p>\n
\u201cShe\u2019s not my mom.\u201d<\/p>\n
I climb in back and listen to the girls describe the festival of lights with a mock awe that doesn\u2019t seem like ridicule so much as, like, wonder.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe dragon is Mrs. Claus\u2019,\u201d they say. \u201cIt can see in the dark better than Rudolph.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOh, the elves! Remember the gay elf, the one who wanted to be a dentist? I love him!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIs pink a Christmas color? It should be a Christmas color.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then the giant American flag.<\/p>\n
I swear, they all go, \u201cOh say can you seeeeee?\u201d<\/p>\n
They applaud when it\u2019s over, and even though they don\u2019t donate anything, they drop me off back at the start and thank me for all the hard work I\u2019d put into it.<\/p>\n
They say, \u201cNext year, add Barbie! No, wait, add Beetlejuice!\u201d<\/p>\n
They drive away.<\/p>\n
Herc shakes his head. \u201cMel\u2019s already been back and told me.\u201d<\/p>\n
I reach out to shake his hand. \u201cBeen real.\u201d<\/p>\n
He won\u2019t shake. \u201cI ought to bust you over the head.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat did I do?\u201d<\/p>\n
He won\u2019t say anything else but, \u201cGet your ass out of here.\u201d<\/p>\n
So I do. I drive home, I let myself in, tell my mom I\u2019m tired, and go up to my room. Still strobing. Little fireworks behind my eyelids.<\/p>\n
When Mel finally calls, which I knew she would, at two in the morning, it\u2019s to tell me, \u201cI\u2019m outside. Come with me.\u201d<\/p>\n
I throw on sweatpants, no underwear, and a Gophers t-shirt. Flip-flops. You grow up in Minnesota, you get used to the cold, what can I say? I sneak out, and I feel like a child because if I were to wake up my sainted, snoring Mom, she wouldn\u2019t stop me, obviously, but she\u2019d judge me. Disdain me. She knows about me and Mel and I don\u2019t know how, but she does. So I sneak out like a middle-schooler.<\/p>\n
I get in Mel\u2019s Lincoln and we start rolling down the street.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo, you make out with any of those girls?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cGeez, they were kids, Mel. God no.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThey liked you though.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNot my type.\u201d<\/p>\n
She\u2019s quiet for a few blocks. Is she jealous? Honest to god jealous?<\/p>\n
I take a look at her. She\u2019s put on heavy lip gloss. Some eye make-up, a bit raccoony.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou weren\u2019t really fired.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHerc thought I was.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHerc wants you gone because he wants me to himself.\u201d<\/p>\n
She reaches over and rubs my thigh. Inches higher.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou and Herc?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cSometimes.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cBut he knows about \u2013\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHe knows. I tell him. Makes him mad. Makes him fuck like a bull, I\u2019m telling you. Thinks he\u2019s winning me back.\u201d<\/p>\n
I look out the window, houses going past. Not sure where we\u2019re going. \u201cGod, I don\u2019t need to know that.\u201d<\/p>\n
But my dick betrays my feelings, growing as she kneads me.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou sure about that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere are we going?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHerc wants to watch.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWait, what?\u201d<\/p>\n
She gives me a pat. \u201cDon\u2019t worry, he\u2019s not going to kick your ass. But he wants to watch. I might let him join in. Thought you might like it.\u201d<\/p>\n
I need a girlfriend my age. I need one who likes Olive Garden and going to the movies. One who can talk to me on the level, not trying to belittle me, humiliate me. One who won\u2019t call at two in the morning.<\/p>\n
One my mom will like.<\/p>\n
But Mel knows what type of porn I watch on my phone. She\u2019s guessed right. And I\u2019m not happy about it. But there\u2019s a pit in my stomach, a throbbing dick in my pants, and a catch in my throat. Mel\u2019s got the upper hand.<\/p>\n
\u201cSo, you okay with it?\u201d<\/p>\n
Of course I am. It\u2019s the nicest thing she\u2019s ever said to me.<\/p>\n
I say, \u201cEver thought about putting in Beetlejuice lights?\u201d<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
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