Page 8 of Not Another Christmas Movie

“Yeah, okay, I’ll wait to continue my assessment of this bizarre universe we’ve somehow shifted into and run back through the mysterious, likely CGI, snow to get you some cookies,” Nick said sarcastically.

“Cool. Chop, chop then,” Annie said and then sighed. “I need cookies before figuring out what the fu—” Annie started, but she was abruptly cut off by a loud noise. It sounded like what may have been designed to be a laugh but had since been warped and waterlogged after drowning in a haunted lake. “What the fu—” Annie tried again, and the sound got louder, drawing her attention to a three-foot-tall animatronic Santa Claus. “The fu—” Annie gasped in horror as a third, louder yet, “laugh” erupted from the demonic figure.

“Why can’t I say fu—” Annie tried to whisper, but the Santa barked out a “ho ho ho” as if in warning. Annie’s eyes grew wide, taking in the candle waving in Santa’s waxy hand, now flickering to life, momentarily blinding her with its intensity. Santa’s eyes stared unblinkingly, dead yet alive with merry menace.

“Oh, yeah, I discovered this one before I came over. Try to say another ‘bad word,’ ” Nick smirked.

“No way, I don’t want that thing coming more to life, what’s happening?”

“Well, no swearing or indecent language here, ma’am,” Nick offered, making his voice go into a soft Southern drawl.

“Under no circumstances are you to ever call me ma’am again, man,” Annie warned.

“Noted,” Nick nodded. “Well, as you observed, if you try to use a ‘bad’ word, it’ll be cut out by some sort of loud sound. I tried it in my house, and the kitchen radio kept going off, playing Jessica and Ashlee Simpson’s version of ‘Little Drummer Boy’ from the 2004 TV special.”

“No!” Annie gasped, covering her ears in horror at the thought and feeling grateful she only had to endure a creepy child-sized mechanical Santa brought to life. Clearly, she would be watching her language for the foreseeable future.

“We’re not in Simsbury anymore. Or, like, we’re in an alternative reality of Simsbury. It’s something like Simsbury. Based on my limited observations, we’re now in a made-for-TV Christmas movie,” Nick said.

“Why are you so familiar with made-for-TV Christmas movies?”

“I don’t have to answer that,” Nick said, crossing his arms, literally closing himself off to the question. “I have my suspicions on which network’s universe this could be, considering the collection of ornaments on all of the trees and the blank holiday cards I found on our mantel,” Nick said before Annie cut him off.

“I’m not mentally equipped to make sense of anything you just said. I need a cookie,” Annie said. Nick rolled his eyes, realizing that she was not going to relent and walked carefully over the snow to his house. After a few moments he returned carrying a large cookie sheet. Annie hurried him into her house and leaned over to examine the goods.

“What the fu—” Annie started but cut herself off when she caught a glimpse of the expectant candle in Santa’s hands. “What is that?” Annie asked instead.

“Cookies.”

“Where’s the chocolate?” Annie asked, grabbing a circular cookie to study.

“These are sugar cookies,” Nick said.

“Plain sugar cookies are basically garbage,” Annie said definitively. When Nick stared back blankly, she muttered miserably, “What’s the point of a cookie without chocolate?” and tossed the pointless confection back on the tray. “Oh, hey, my phone isn’t working, do you have yours?” Annie asked hopefully, changing gears.

“No, my lock screen is a cartoon picture of two snow people under mistletoe.”

“Fu—” Annie started to yell in frustration but gritted her teeth. “Son-of-a-nutcracker,” she said instead. “Let’s check my parents’ landline.”

Annie raced into the kitchen, frantically searching for the cordless phone that had lived there for years. Instead, she found a black rotary phone placed in front of a cylinder piled to the top with shiny red and green round balls. Annie picked up the receiver, knowing before it reached her ear she’d be left helpless.

“Nothing,” she said to Nick, her face full of frustration. Nick thoughtlessly moved the cylinder closer to him, eventually taking out the top three balls to hurl into the air. “What’s happening here?” Annie asked, gesturing to the act.

“I’m stress juggling,” Nick answered, his eyes never leaving the three balls as they masterfully went from one hand, into the air, and swiftly landed in the other before they were off again. “I went to circus camp, remember?” Nick said, and Annie swallowed a scream of exasperation. She was about ready to shake Nick to get him to knock off his nonsense in this incredibly nonsensical situation.

“I’m going to find my keys,” Annie announced, unable to gather the patience to let Nick “stress juggle” a moment longer.

“Good luck. I couldn’t find mine, and when I tried to brush the snow off my car, I couldn’t do it,” Nick told her, returning the balls to their cylinder and into the strange concept that a container of balls was considered a holiday decoration.

“What do you mean? That doesn’t make sense,” Annie said, shaking her head. She found a pair of red satin slippers in a basket near the front door and slid her feet in, jogging out to her car, incensed, on adrenaline, and ready to prove Nick wrong.

Annie saw Nick standing in the doorframe, his hands on his hips. Her arms were swinging before she even reached her car, which was still completely concealed under snow, but when her skin made contact, she didn’t feel the cold; in fact, the “snow” didn’t feel like much at all. It was like grabbing at clouds, and every time she scooped some away, more would take its place, making her attempts frustratingly futile. After about a minute, Annie was exhausted and breathing hard, her efforts completely unseen.

“Are we ghosts?!” Annie yelled over to Nick. “What’s going on here?”

“I don’t know …” Nick answered, deep in thought. Annie flew down the driveway. “Wait! Where are you going?” Nick asked, following behind.

“I have to get out of here!” Annie called back, landing on the clear sidewalk and resuming her powerwalk. She stopped in her tracks once outside Nick’s house. The creepy Sweeny Todd barber chair was nowhere to be seen, and instead, the yard was full of inflatable reindeer and snow people. Framing the home, including all windows and doorways, were multicolored lights illuminating the morning snow. Annie was still gawking as Nick caught up to her.