Some reminiscing, 20 December, 1992 -- "Christmas Mischief"

I was just asked to retell this story after something reminded
me of it, so I thought I'd write it down while I was thinking
of it.  Bit-rot has clobbered some of the details, but the
events described did happen.  It's about a bit of mischief some
friends and I got into one Christmas.


'Twas several years ago, when two of my friends, B____ and R____
had not been married a year yet, and Christmas was drawing near.
Two other friends and I had been out someplace with the two of them,
and when the conversation had turned to the holiday, they'd
mentioned that money was so tight that they weren't even going
to be able to afford a tree for their first Christmas in their
new apartment, their first Christmas as husband and wife.  We all
thought that was a shame, but it was after we'd dropped them off
and started on our way home that we really started thinking about
it.

"Y'know, it's sad that B____ and R____ can't afford a tree."

"Yeah.  I know what you mean."

"Uh huh.  If I could afford it, I'd be tempted to give them one."

"How much do Christmas trees cost?"

"I don't know.  Real or artificial?"

"Hey, there's three of us.  We could split it."

"There's a store up ahead that has artificial trees.  Want to
stop in and see what they've got and how much it would cost?"

"Sure."

"Sure."


So we pulled into the parking lot, went into the store, and
looked at smallish (but not _too_ small) artificial trees,
having decided somewhere along the line that it would be good
to get them something they could use the following year, just
in case.

"If they can't afford a tree, they can't afford lights."

"Oh, but it's _got_ to have lights on it!"

We decided that between the three of us we could afford to
split the cost of a tree, a string of lights, and probably
some tinsel of something -- I don't quite remember any more.
So we put our grand idea in the back of the car and headed
back up the road to B____ & R____'s place.

Then we had the bright idea to set up and decorate the tree
outside so that we could surprise them with the vision of
a proper Christmas tree when they opened the door.  This
seemed like a much nicer idea than showing them the box.
We didn't have a star, so one of us put a spare Volkswagen
distributor cap on top.  Well, it _was_ bright yellow, and
it _did_ have five, er, points.  And he _did_ pull tufts of
bright pink tissue paper through each of the five little
holes that wires were supposed to go through.  We all
thought it was a downright _charming_ tree topper, as long
as nobody figured out what it was.


That's when our plan hit a snag.

"Are they home?"

"R____'s hearse is still parked out front.  Do you see
B____'s car?"

"It's here.  How come they're not answering the door?"

"Maybe they're taking a nap?"


B____ and R____'s first apartment was on the first floor,
(as, I think, their second was as well), so we tried windows
as well as doors.  Tapping on the bedroom window didn't work.
Knocking on the front door didn't work.  Knocking loudly on
the patio door produced a similar lack of response.  So there
we were, standing around a decorated Christmas tree outside
the home of friends who weren't there.  We didn't want to
leave it unprotected, and we couldn't really stick around for
an unknown length of time awaiting their return.  It was most
perplexing.


So we broke in.

One of us noticed that the sliding glass patio door was not
properly latched, though it did have a dowel in the track to
keep it from opening.  So one or two of us pushed it up in
place, while the third nudged the bottom of the door out of
the track.  Then we carefully nudged it aside far enough to
get our hands around it and move it the rest of the way.
We were lucky, and were were good.  We didn't drop it.

We chose a reasonable place to put the tree, near an
electrical outlet for the lights, and arranged some
Matchbox cars around the base since we didn't have a toy
train to put there.  We patted ourselves on the back for
being such clever people, and managed to return the door
to the same state in which we'd found it.

Of course, it was _after_ we'd put the door back that it
occurred to me to leave a note.  So, duct-taped to the
outside of the glass door was a note that said, "Next
year, get a chimney!  -- S.C."


I remember the gist of a phone call I got a short time
later.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Glenn?  B____."

"Hey!  How goes it?"

"Not bad, not bad.  A little strangely, actually.  Uh,
do you know anything about a mysterious Christmas tree?"

"What?"

"Uh, did you have anything to do with a tree that appeared
in our apartment?"

"Huh?  A tree that _what_?"

"Well, somebody ah, left a Christmas tree in our apartment
while we were out.  All set up, with lights on it even."

"Wow!  No kidding?  How sweet!  Cool!"

"Uh yeah.  R____'s kind of freaked about it though, and I'm
really puzzled.  I could have sworn we left the house locked.
And it was locked when we got home.  Oh, and there was this
note..."


Well, you get the idea.  It wasn't until a while later, when
I found out just _how_ freaked R____ was that I admitted having
had anything to do with the caper.  (It turns out that they'd
been in a car accident while they were out, and one of the
Matchbox cars looked like one of the cars involved in the accident,
and R____ was convinced that the tree was somehow Satanic, or at
the very least, Demonic, and was quite upset.  (*sigh*)  So then
I reassured them that the tree was in fact a gift from quite human
agents.)

What tipped B____ off that it might have been us was the yellow
distributor cap.  He could only think of two people strange
enough to have used that as a tree ornament, and one of us drove
a Volks.

Nonetheless, I'm rather tickled each time I think back to that
little affair.  It just seemed so ... so _appropriate_ at the
time.  As a matter of fact, I guess it still does.  Especially
now, as my thoughts turn again to Christmas.  It was after Lothie
and Wildstar and the kids and I had finished lighting and trimming
our tree this evening that something reminded me of that story,
and how nice it is when the right gift suggests itself.  Even if
one has to commit breaking and entering in order to deliver it.

So all of you, when you lock up the house, don't forget to latch
the patio door instead of relying on a dowel in the track.  Unless,
of course, you want to take a chance that Satan Clause will leave
you a surprise.


                                        With an elfin grin,
                                        -- D'Glenn.

                                        Merry Christmas, all.