Page 51 of Hoofin’ It

Curiosity got the better of me, and armed with a knife and surrounded by a pile of boxes, I went to work. I targeted the package from my father first.

Big mistake.

I should have known he wanted some payback for me not coming home immediately following the loss of my eye so he could smother me with his affections. A pressurized can delivered the payload of glitter, which bloomed from the box in a mushroom cloud of tiny sparkles. Blue, pink, and silver coated me from head to toe, glimmered in the air, and settled in the carpet.

“What a dick.” I shook my hands, which shined. Not only had he used glitter, he had picked varying sizes, from powder to metallic confetti. It took me several minutes to figure out how he had rigged the trap. The bastard had fixed the box so when I pulled open the flaps, the trigger depressed on the canister of compressed air, delivering the demonic craft payload. More glitter filled the box, and since he hadn’t been satisfied with his initial attack, a second box waited inside the first, forcing me to dip my hands in more glitter to dig it out.

Resigned to my sparkly fate, I pulled out the second package, setting it aside. Since my father would do something evil like burying a small but important object within several inches of glitter, I checked the bottom of the box. Sure enough, I found another box and an envelope.

Death would be too lenient a punishment for Dad. Muttering curses, I shoved the trapped package aside and went to work on the second package.

A second cloud of glitter puffed in my face. Luck alone spared me from getting any of it in my eye, but I’d be picking sparkly bits of craft herpes from my hair for the rest of my life.

Since my apartment was permanently ruined, I dumped the contents out on the carpet. A gift-wrapped box waited for me. It was too small for a can of compressed air, so I tore into, tossing the wrapping paper aside. More glitter poured to the floor, accompanying a clear plastic box with a tag indicating my father had given me a watch.

Did I want a new watch bad enough to deal with more glitter to retrieve it? I scowled, and once again, curiosity got the better of me. Glitter poured out, adding to the disaster. Inside, safe in a plastic bag, was a digital watch, the kind meant to link with my phone.

I weighed the device’s coolness factor against the evils of glitter. Dad would still pay, and he would do so for a long time. Revenge would be served when he least expected it, and I’d make sure to record every minute of my triumph. Setting the plastic baggie and the watch on my coffee table, where I hoped it would be safe from any other fiendish evils Dad had in store for me, I reached for the third box.

Continuing the sparkling theme, it contained more crap for me to clean up and directions for reaching my parents’ house along with a gift card for coffee.

“Son of a bitch,” I muttered, tossing the card onto the table with the watch. With my luck, the envelope would contain some sort of plea to come and visit. Part of the glitter armageddon was my fault; I hadn’t told my parents I was going to New York until right before I’d left. Picking up the envelope, I tore it open. Unlike the rest of the packages, Dad hadn’t contaminated it with glitter. A folded sheet of paper waited for me.

Mom’s handwriting greeted me, and her note contained a list of tricks and tips on cleaning up copious amounts of glitter and a gift card so I could buy myself a new vacuum, which I would need.

I pulled out my phone, grumbled complaints over the sheen of glitter on the screen, and called my father’s cell.

“If it isn’t my wayward son. You’re not in Des Moines,” he snarled.

“Per our father and son agreement, I’m notifying you that you and Mom deserve a fate worse than death, and I’ll be coming for you. Prepare yourselves, for revenge will come when you least expect it.”

“I see you’ve wandered your way back to Chicago.”

“I see you’ve discovered the existence of compressed air.”

“Are you shiny, my precious little boy?”

“Are you trying to provoke me into patricide?”

“You didn’t tell us you were going back to Chicago.”

I sighed and flopped onto the floor, staring up at my ceiling. “It was a non-optional trip. The CDC wanted to do some testing. I just got home to discover my loving mother and father had gotten bored, discovered the existence of compressed air, and somehow had gotten their hands on an obscene amount of glitter.”

“You know you wanted a new vacuum cleaner. Don’t deny it.”

“Hey, Dad?”

“What?”

“Christmas dinner is going to be so, so fun this year. I just thought I’d give you advance warning. I’m expecting all four grandparents to attend. Don’t disappoint me.”

The silence assured me Dad worried because he couldn’t think of any reason for there to be any surprises for the holidays. “Should I be concerned?”

“Oh, yes. Especially now that I’m covered head to toe in glitter. If I lose my security deposit because of this, you’re repaying me in werewolf fur yarn. I’m sure Mom will enjoy helping me with this endeavor.”

“Dare I ask?”

“The CDC did a DNA scan as part of their tests.”