Page 25 of Fake It 'Til You Sleigh It

Hell, I’d rather do my taxes.

On Christmas Eve.

While sober.

“I, uh…”

“Yeah, we’re so curious and excited. We wanna know all about you,” Doug chimes in as he gulps down another full glass of swamp juice. “The stories Ethan has told us, well, they don’t paint the best picture.”

Darla pats her husband’s arm affectionately. “Now, Douggie, you and I weren’t all rainbows and catfish from the get-go. Chase, we were like two feral cats, always hissing and clawing at each other. I never would’ve thought we’d end up purring in marital bliss.”

I turn to Ethan, my eyes narrowing. “Well, I hope Ethan hadsomegood things to say.”

An awkward silence descends on the room. Darla, bless her relentlessly cheery heart, rushes to fill the void. “Let’s start fresh. Give us your story, Chase.”

I shift uncomfortably in my seat. “Well, um, I’m not really one to share. And there’s not much to tell.”

Ethan jumps in. “As you know, Chase is a director. She went to USC, the same college as Steven Spielberg.”

“Oh, he did thatJawsmovie, didn’t he?” Doug nods sagely.

“I still get chills every time we take the boat out on the water,” Darla adds with a shudder.

Doug lunges at his wife, pretending to chomp on her neck like an overgrown, slightly inebriated shark. Darla dissolves into a fit of giggles, playfully swatting at him.

“Excuse us,” Darla says between giggles. “Doug is a big ol’ cuddle bug, and he can’t stop showing off how much he loves me.”

“Can’t stop, won’t stop. Why would I want to?” Doug agrees, peppering Darla’s face with kisses.

Awesome. Nothing like a little public make-out session to make things super comfortable.

“You two don’t need to hide your love from us,” Darla says, turning her attention back to Ethan and me. “We show affection in this house.”

Before I can protest, Ethan’s arm sneaks around my shoulders. I tense up, gritting my teeth to stay composed. “We’re used to hiding our love at work,” I say, gently shoving his arm off me.

The room falls silent again. The skepticism radiating from Doug and Darla is palpable.

“I think I need some more of that delicious Christmas Gator punch,” I blurt out, reaching for my glass on the coffee table.

That’s when I notice it. Amidst the clutter, an overly lifelike, four-foot-long alligator decoration sits on the ground.Unnerving.I study its scaly tail, then scan its rough, prehistoric body all the way to its blunt snout under half-lidded eyes.Somuch detail.I’d swear it was breathing… if it wasn’t wearing a Santa hat and holding a cheesy stuffed flamingo in its mouth.

Weird.

Then.

It.

MOVES!

I scream, clinging to Ethan.

“Oh, that’s just Bubbles,” Doug says casually, as if having a live, forty-pound alligator in one’s living room is normal. He scoops up the gator with two hands, hugging it affectionately like a super-long wiener dog. “He’s friendly. See?”

Before I can protest, Doug sets Bubbles onto my lap, wrapping my arms around the scaly creature. Terror courses through my veins. I’m literally paralyzed.

This creature is hefty. Its powerful tail, nearly as long as its body, shifts side to side like a sunbathing cat in a window. Then the animal settles, breathing in a slow, steady rhythm as its body rises and falls gently against me.

In its mouth is a mutilated pink flamingo plushie with gator teeth holes on all sides and stuffing leaking out. Darla, oblivious to my distress, plucks the toy from Bubbles’ mouth. “Looks like Feathers is gonna need us to restuff her again.”

---