Chaos and light is what it's all about, isn't it? I mean Christmas, the universe, everything!
Chaos and Light
It was snowing. Brendan turned his key in the lock. The door opened a fraction and then stuck. “What’s behind the door?” he shouted. “I can’t get in!”
“Come round the back,” came the reply. “I’ll let you in that way.”
He picked up his briefcase and went round the back.
In the kitchen, the baby was crying and Peter, three and a half, was in pole position. A box of Christmas decorations took up most of the rest of the floor.
“The baby’s crying,” Brendan said.
“Vroom, vroom.” Both car and toddler crashed into his legs.
“That hurt, Peter,” he protested, shaking the snow off his coat.
The phone rang.
“Can you get that?” asked Maria as she picked little Cyril up and patted his full nappy.
Brendan stepped over box, tinsel and toddler, and looked round in dismay at the chaos that welcomed him home. “Hello? What, this minute? Now?... No, no, you’re always welcome. See you in a minute then.” He replaced the receiver. “You’re mother’s on her way.”
This evening was turning into a nightmare. All he wanted to do was relax. Now he tripped over the box and spilt its baubles and bunting all over the kitchen floor. Baby was being changed on the table. Brendan thought the better of commenting on this as a matter of hygiene and started shoving the contents back into the box.
“Daddy, can I have a dink?” said the little one.
“What can he dink - I mean drink, Maria?”
“Juice in the fridge,” she said distractedly wafting the smell of poo away from her nose, “And could you just have a look at the chicken? No, wait. You finish this and I’ll have a look at the chicken.”
“Can’t I change first? I’m in my suit.”
“Okay. Turn the oven down to a hundred and sixty, get Peter a drink and then go and change.” Maria swept the hair out of her eyes with her wrist, wrapped the baby in a bath towel, poo and all, stepped over the box and dragged Peter along into the living room. “Get Mummy baby’s bag,” she said and Peter who knew the drill, obliged.
Brendan disappeared thankfully upstairs. He had only his shirt on when, with a sudden flash the light went out. “What the f… on earth? Maria? Maria?” He looked out onto the dark landing. It wasn’t just the bedroom light. It was all the lights. “Maria, where’s the torch?”
Maria appeared at the bottom of the stairs holding a match. “Dunno. Peter just switched the Christmas tree lights on and they’ve fused.”
“Peter did? Is he okay?”
“Yes, the fuse blew in the plug.”
“Okay, nobody move! I’m coming down.” Brendan sat on the top step and came down on his bare backside. He took the matches. “Everybody just stand where you are. There’s candles under the sink.”
The laminate felt hard on his knees as he struck a match and began to rummage. Shirt tail in the air, he managed to find a candle and light it just as an icy draft from the back door shriveled his scrotum.
“Isn’t your bell working?” said Maria’s mother brushing the snow off by the back door. “I’ve been stood out there for…Oooh!” She looked around in the candle light for something else to focus on. “Nice baubles,” she said.
Published in Short Humour
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