Tonight, Eddie sat at the dining table and smiled as the little village snuggly glowed while the snow and wind beat against his window panes. His eyes began to close as he listened to soft Christmas carols and hugged a warm cup of hot chocolate.
“Hey! Lead-ass! Get over here!”
Eddie opened his eyes and looked around. Eddie lived by himself and, even if he had a roommate, he didn’t know why they would have called him lead-ass.
“Hey! Put down the *blanking* hot toddy and help me here!” said the voice.
Eddie got up and went over to Grandma’s Cottage where he thought the voice was coming from.
“Can I help you?” asked Eddie, slightly shaken.
“Aren’t you in charge of this piece of *blanking* town?” the voice asked.
“Well, I guess you could say that,” said Eddie. “Who are you?”
“Don’t worry about me. Help me get this tree off the car. Grandma wants her *blanking* Christmas tree up.”
Eddie looked at the car. It was the VW Beetle he had set in front of Grandma’s Cottage with the Christmas tree on the roof. He could see that he wasn’t going to be able to help.
“The car and the tree are all one piece of plastic,” said Eddie. “The tree is not coming off of the car.”
“Well, then what am I supposed to do, you useless *blank*?! Grandma is yelling at me, my wife is yelling at me, the *blanking* kids are yelling at me, and I can’t get Christmas at Grandma’s put up! There’s no place to put the presents. Where do you get the *blanking* presents anyway?”
“Well, there’s the drug store on the square,” said Eddie, although he was pretty sure that there wasn’t anything in the store. Eddie was really puzzled.
As Eddie backed away from Grandma’s Cottage, he could hear the yelling and the foul language.
“I told my daughter not to marry you, you son of a *blank*. Can’t you do anything right? “Where is the *blanking* tree? Where are the *blanking* presents?”
Eddie started back to the dining table, thinking, “Oh my God. Tenants.”
Then more yelling and vulgar language.
“Hey! You!” The voice came from the gas station. “Yeah, I heard your name was lead-ass. It’s more like dead ass! How am I supposed to make any money?”
“What?” said Eddie. “What’s the matter?”
“I got a gas station and a shop. But this village, it’s got no *blanking* cars! How am I supposed to make a *blanking* living?”
“Well, there’s the VW Beatle,” said Eddie.
“It don’t go anywhere. And it’s the only car in the whole piece of the *blanking* village,” said the voice from the station.
“Well, maybe others will show up,” said Eddie.
“Not unless you go get some, Einstein. And get some VW parts, too. And while you’re at it, pick up some *blanking* customers. Some *blanks* who are having car trouble
“Ok,” said Eddie. “But, you know, I really wasn’t expecting you.”
“What do you mean you weren’t expecting me, you *blanking* genius? Why did you put up the *blanking* gas station?”
Eddie decided to sit at the table and have some more hot chocolate. He rubbed his forehead and again wished these tenants hadn’t moved in. This isn’t the way he wanted to spend Christmas. He just wanted to enjoy his Christmas carols.
Music and loud drunken voices emerged from the bait shop. It was too late for carousing, thought Eddie.
“Hey! Stupid ass! Get us some beer. And make sure it’s in tiny *blanking* cans to get through the windows!”
Eddie needed to evict his unwanted tenants. He brought up the boxes from the basement and started packing up the buildings in their styrofoam packages in spite of the protests of the increasingly vocal and inebriated inhabitants.
Eddie bagged them up and went to the gift shop where the village was purchased. He set the pieces on the counter. The saleswoman was startled as the little buildings shook with muffled cries and obscenities.
“How may I help you?” she said, still looking at the trembling boxes.
“I need to return these.”
“What’s wrong with them?”
“Well, they’re rude for one thing. And they’re loud and crude and they yell at me. And I didn’t ask them to move in.”
The saleswoman picked up a box, shook it, and heard protesting, profane language from inside.
“I can’t accept these,” said the saleswoman, setting the box back onto the counter.
“Why not? Eddie asked.
“I can’t resell them in this condition.
“Why not?” Eddie again asked.
“Who would buy them? You’re returning them yourself. They have to be in the same condition in which they were purchased. Clearly these are not.”
Eddie shook his head in frustration but another building caught his attention.
“Well, then, let me have that one there,” Eddie pointed at the piece over the woman’s shoulder.
“This one?” she asked.
“Yes,” said Eddie as he took his credit card from his wallet.
The saleswoman packed up the village piece, handed it to Eddie and said, “OK. You have a Merry Christmas!”
“Thank you,” said Eddie. “I think I will now.”
Eddie walked off with the mumblings from the bags he was carrying. He began whistling “We Wish You a Merry Christmas” and enjoyed the falling snowflakes and the crisp chill in the air.
When Eddie got home he hung up his coat, returned the buildings to their places, and turned on the Christmas music.
Voices came from the village. “Well it’s about time we got back here ya box a rocks! I still got no customers!”
Other voices yelled out, “Did you get the *blanking* beer? Did you get the *blanking* car parts? Did you at least get us Merry *blanking* Christmas trees?
The words of a cheery Christmas song came through Eddie’s speaker. He smiled as he plugged in the lights for the new Village Funeral Home and Crematorium.
About the author
Peter Eckblad is a social worker in Racine, WI. His poems appeared in Pudding Magazine, The Archer, Voices International, and Wind. He has decided to try writing again and has published pieces of flash fiction in Flash Fiction Magazine and CafeLit Magazine.
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