Page 5 of Not Another Christmas Movie

“How dare you compare me to Scrooge, ew, he’s so basic,” Annie groaned.

“Here we go again, is it time for another rant about A Christmas Carol?” Nick asked with false surprise. “You do realize you’ve been sharing your strong opinions on this one since we were in elementary school and they brought in those local actors to perform it?”

“Well, it’s so boring and overdone!” Annie complained, and Nick nodded at Annie’s well-rehearsed argument. “And it’s sad, considering the potential …”

“Oh, I remember, you want the ghosts to be scarier,” Nick said.

“C’mon,” Annie said. “Legit scary ghosts would be very cool. And don’t even get me started on the boring time-travel bits. Such a waste,” Annie finished, blowing air through her lips.

“I know you weren’t a big fan of the holidays when we were in high school—” Nick began.

“I was full of so much angst in high school,” Annie interrupted, still unwilling to acknowledge the one Christmas morning sixteen years before that had canceled all future enjoyment of the holiday.

“You were angsty?” Nick asked.

“Who wasn’t angsty in high school? It was a requirement to graduate,” Annie muttered.

“I always liked school,” Nick said without a hint of sarcasm. They had only shared two years together in the building, Nick as a youthful freshman and Annie in her junior year, already wishing she could skip senior year and jumpstart her life outside of high school. Annie remembered Nick as a friendly and eager kid, involved in a bunch of clubs, with a trajectory that had varied from her own.

“Most likely you remember me crying over some boy I had planned to kiss on New Year’s Eve only to learn he was out of town with his parents or dating someone else,” Annie stated, with more bite than she intended. “You had that girlfriend, though, right? What was her name again?”

“Bailey Jones,” Nick answered quickly.

“That sounds like a dog’s name,” Annie said.

“I love dogs,” Nick said, again, without an ounce of sarcasm, and Annie couldn’t keep from laughing. “Watch out, Annie, this whole cynicism act may finally catch up with you and leave you haunted by your own ghosts one of these days.”

“I wish!” Annie said, but she was cut off by the booming sound of a ringing bell.

CHAPTER THREE

“Can you hear that?” Annie asked Nick.

“Yeah, obviously,” Nick answered, “It’s very loud.”

He tiptoed to get a better view of the street, his heels sticking wildly out of the slippers and his arms and legs still wrapped in lights. Annie shuffled next to him, and they walked up the driveway until their eyes found those of a man ringing a bell next to a red donation pail placed next to the stop sign and one streetlight, a few houses up the road. The rest of the street was completely dark, and upon closer evaluation, the man had both a bell and a beer in one hand and a green bong in the other. Even in the limited light, Annie could see he was wearing a red sweatsuit that looked stained by grease and a cream-colored powder and had a full white beard. She squinted toward him, trying to get a better look at his features. He looked like a mall Santa after a night of intense partying, eager to fuck stuff up. As she looked at him, the man gave her a small smile, revealing a gold front tooth, and he winked. Gross, that’s not something people should ever try to do in real life, Annie cringed.

“Oh, wow, he’s definitely holding a bong, huh?” Nick whispered to her.

“Respect,” Annie mused. It was good to see Santa let loose and have a good time … though he risked being seen by Simsbury PD doing speed checks or worse, and way more likely, someone from the neighborhood Facebook pages, which would ignite the town keyboard warriors in a frenzy of comments and angry face reactions.

“What’s he doing out here now?” Nick frowned. The man looked their way and continued to wave the bell, breaking every few rings to take a hit. The scene was strangely mesmerizing, and both Annie and Nick found themselves hypnotized, unable to do anything but stare. After a moment, Annie put the Pringles can back between her teeth to free her hand and stealthily turned off the flash of her phone to take a picture.

“What are you doing?” Nick hissed out of the corner of his mouth.

“Taking in the magic of the season,” Annie told him, putting her phone back and returning the can to her hand.

“Hey, can I get a chip?” Nick asked, sticking his hand in Annie’s Pringles can before she could stop him. “That’s liquid,” Nick said, shaking his wet hand into the front yard, shuffling back to the decorations.

“Rosé,” Annie said, “Should have warned you. Want a sip?” Annie offered him the can. Nick made a disgusted face but took the can anyway and allowed himself a quick drink.

“Can I get some of that cookie?” Nick asked.

“What will you give me for it? It’s a special cookie,” Annie whispered.

“Why are you whispering? Are you scared stoned Santa is going to hear you?” Nick asked.

“Well, yeah, kind of,” Annie admitted with a shudder. “I don’t know his story, and I’m way too tired to listen to it.”