Page 146 of The Twelve Months of Christmas
“Lots of versions of it,” he said. Then, inspired, suggested. “Want to make up one of our own?”
She giggled. “Why not? You start.”
He turned off the music, saying, “We don’t want competition.”
“No, of course not,” she agreed.
He downed a good-sized swallow of his drink, thought a moment, then announced, “Okay, I got it,” and sang, “On the first day of Christmas my true love gave to me some socks that were super stinky.”
She laughed. “Oh, that is an excellent beginning.”
“Your turn. See if you can top that,” he said.
She took a thoughtful sip of her drink, then sang, “On the second day of Christmas my true love gave to me two candy canes.”
“And some socks that were super stinky,” they sang together.
“On the third day of Christmas my true love gave to me, three onion rings,” he sang, and together they sang the next two lines.
The song went on—four shots of whiskey, which called for another drink, then, “Five pounds of fudge,” they chorused as the door opened and Arianna walked in.
“What on earth are you two doing?” she asked.
“Drinking song,” he said. “I made my new specialty. Want one?”
“After seeing my ex? Yes,” she said.
Alden made her a drink and she settled on the couch next to her mother to hear what they’d come up with so far, giggling as they sang.
“Okay, your turn,” he said to her.
“On the sixth day of Christmas my true love gave to me six pairs of sexy panties,” she warbled. Then her face turned red.
“I like it,” he said and saluted her with his glass. He hoped he’d inspired that line of thought.
She quickly downed half her drink. “No more R-rated lyrics.”
“Well, that’s no fun,” he cracked. “Your turn, Mrs. W.”
Mia was smiling at her daughter. “On the seventh day of Christmas my daughter gave to me...”
“What happened to true love?” Arianna interrupted.
“It’s the same thing,” Mia said, and continued, “Seven days of lovely memories. Although it’s been more like thirty-five years. Thirty-six next weekend.”
Alden looked at Arianna. “So, you got a birthday coming up?”
She sighed. “I’m getting old.”
“No, you’re hitting your prime,” Mia corrected.
“Looks like we’ll have more than just Christmas to celebrate next weekend,” Alden said.
“Christmas is enough,” Arianna told him.
“Yeah? We’ll see.”
The singing continued, and the true love items ranged from eight baby monkeys to twelve cans of beer. By the end of the song, both Mia and Arianna were tipsy. And laughing.
