House Call - Episode 2

>life's a beach
>you're the boy

>after returning home from the donut shop, you batten down the hatches and prepare for the worst
>you got your cocoas all lined up
>you got your hot sammies
>lotsa food to nuke
>lotsa food to bake in the oven
>lotsa pop
>lotsa assorted snacks
>getting ready to curl up in front of the TV when your bathroom door opens

Connie trots into the room, giving you a cheerful grin. "Good news;" she says, beaming. "The cartilage wasn't completely broken," she runs her finger down the bridge of her purple, bandaged nose, "so I was able to snap everything back into place without much trouble." Smiling, she adds "And I only had to use two rolls of toilet paper to stop the bleeding." She's changed out of her jacket, wearing a long-sleeved sweater. "I hung up my jacket on the bar where your shower curtains are; the blood came out a lot easier than I thought, but it's still kinda wet."

>good for you kid
>sit down
>shut up
>you zip up your warm winter jacket, hunker down on the floor with a few heavy blankets and get started with "Santa's Revenge"
>Connie marches over and plops down between your legs, leaning back into you
>say honey could you fuck off right quick
>she smiles, handing you a Christmas edition Dr. Thunder before cracking one open for herself
>guess you forgot to grab one before you sat down
>w/e
>you let how oddly physical she just became slide and get immersed in your snackathon

"I didn't know they made Christmas slasher flicks." murmurs Connie, rolling her head back to look at you while she loudly drinks her soda.

>yep
>they're more campy than the rest without going too far
>the one about Valentine's Day is still probably the best though

Connie "hmmms" as she stares at you, taking another obnoxious sip of delicious, pine-tinged Dr. Thunder. "Do you wanna decorate the inside after this?"

>nah
>I only have like two inside decorations so I just save those for last

"...two?" she says with a look of disappointment.

>yup
>two
>mini-tree with ornies
>crackers of the nut variety
>just two

Connie scoffs, "That's more than two, you know." She angrily slurps up her Dr. Thunder; "That's only, like, two categories!"

>still two
>Connie's fuming but you don't care
>drink sardonically
>I mean I don't know how you drink like that but the grief is good
>suddenly cold hands

"Suddenly, cold hands!" cries Connie, mashing her palms against your cheeks and making you jump.

>you lil fuckin shit
>spring up
>Connie springs up as well, grinning mischievously before turning to run
>too late
>grab her leg
>give it a good yank
>she hits the ground pretty hard
>ruh roh
>kneel down to see if you actually wound up killing her
>roll her over onto her back
>cold hands

"Ha!" she exclaims, "Gotcha!"

>fffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffffuck you
>initiate grapple
>Connie's cigarette-like physique lets her slip through your beach bruisers pretty swiftly

"COLD HANDS!"

>block
>counter cold hands
>Connie shrieks and starts thrashing
>knee to the gut leaves you open and she quickly seizes the moment
>latches on
>rolls you over
>proceeds to initiate cold hands on your cheeks
>yeah nah it ain't goin' down like that
>grab her ribs
>pull yourself up
>keep going until she falls back and you fall forward
>pin her hands above her head
>Connie still eyes you defiantly right up until you grab your somehow un-spilled can of soda
>condensation is taking place so combined with the freezing aluminum is the cold water on the outside of the can

"You-!" gasps Connie, briefly struggling. "You wouldn't!"

>would
>cold hand
>wet hand
>right on the neck

"Kyaaaaa!" Connie cries out, kicking and shrieking. "You win! You win!"

>and don't you forget it you lil shit
>release her wrists and start sitting up

"Cold hands!"

>you topple back from the sudden attack and she lunges
>instead of going in for the kill like you expected, she just smiles over you before boop'ing you with the tip of her nose

"All this roughhousing is great!" she says, leaning up and putting her weight right where it shouldn't be; "Our body temperature should stay high for awhile now."

>y-yep
>say why don't you go find my lil tree
>be careful with it though I'll fuck you up if you bust it
>Connie bounds off, giving you enough time to chug the rest of your soda and stuff an ice pack in your boxerbriefs

"Found it!" she calls, slowly bringing over an ancient cardboard box. The box is so worn and warped with age that most of the graphics have been completely obscured. "Should I set it up on the table?"

>yeah
>decorations should be in there too so be careful
>sure enough, the stained plastics containing the deckies slides out first
>Connie's quick enough to stop it from clattering onto the table and slowly sets it to the side
>out next comes the fake tree
>it's twisted
>it's bristly
>but with a few yanks and tweaks it's as good as newish
>seeing the tree in all its tired glory causes you to feel...
>different
>you stare at it for a few moments before slipping away to fetch your nutcrackers

>you head over to the closet you keep inside your closet and the closet you keep inside that
>the musty little room that never sees the light of day is dry and dusty
>you've got various, precious keepsakes in there but swallow the lump in your throat to grab your little wooden sentries
>when you head back out, Connie's gaze meets yours almost immediately
>she's got the tree mostly decorated, but you notice she's left you the non-generic stuff to put up yourself
>set the box of winter soldiers down by your futon and head on over to finish decorating the tree

"...you've had all this stuff for awhile, huh?" murmurs Connie, looking up at you with her big ol' eyes.

>yup
>hang up a few of the old, handmade stuff you put together as a kid
>a plastic ball filled with brown paint because you just threw all the colors together
>one of those thick popsicle sticks the doctors press on your tongue that you painted white and glued a few buttons and flavors to to make it a snowman
>put up some of the stuff your parents bought/left you
>feel your eyes starting to moisten, so you blame it on the dust in the closet
>Connie doesn't say much and keeps handing you ornaments
>a small, stuffed star
>various things that are far too heavy for the little tree's upper branches
>a small, cracked Santa and a few other knicked ornies
>finally, a rusted beach glass charm
>you take a step back and look things over before reaching in the box and pulling out an old, circular mat adorned with cheesy, big-eyed Christmas critters like the ones you'd see in a baby's room
>set it around the tree's base
>stare
>the nostalgia welling up in your tear ducts is broken for a moment when you feel a cold hand slip into yours and a head leaning into your shoulder
>...
>...
>...
>alright
>let's start setting up the boys

* * *

>your nutcrackers are set up all over the house
>for a short time each year, they stand vigilant
>swords and bristly beards a the ready
>you and Connie are back on the floor, wrapped up in a blanket
>Connie's gone and pulled your arms around her and you're too sappy to contest it
>she presses her cheek against yours, hanging on every word as you tell her all about your Christmases of yesteryear
>after awhile, things quite down and you're content with passively cuddling while you watch teenagers get gored by reindeer

"Hey, um..." squeaks Connie, looking back at you. "It's been awhile since we've done something like this, you know?"

>yeah I haven't gone this long without punching you in the face in forever

Connie chuckles halfheartedly; "Yeah..." She smiles up at you, eyes twinkling. "It's nice, you know?"

>I know sport
>dig your chin into her shoulder to break the tension
>you notice Connie's staring at you with a peculiar expression
>suddenly, full body contact
>Connie's bony little body is pressed up against you
>her bony little arms are wrapped around you pretty tightly
>and you're pretty sure you feel something wet on your neck
>hoverhand for a moment before giving her an awkward pat on the back
>Connie draws back, wide-eyed and flushed
>say uh connie
>why don't I get some water; it's getting a little toasty don't you think
>to your horror, she closes her eyes and quickly draws forward
>eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeek
>suddenly, pounding on the door
>EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEK

"Beach Boy? Connie?" calls a familiar voice. You turn in horror just in time to see your deadbolt unlock. Your door opens for a split second, and the figure who stepped inside quickly slams it shut, locking it up and putting everything back in order. Shedding their snow-soaked coat, they turn to face you. They look at Connie first, then back at you before scowling. "Well," they muse, "it appears as if I interrupted something."

Connie swallows hard before choking out, "Hi, mom."