That’s Him There

I waited up for him long as I could, but I was only seven. My sister come as promised and got me up just after midnight.  “Is he here?” I asked.

“Let’s go see for ourselves,” she said and led me into the living room where we hid ourselves behind the credenza

Pretty soon, Da came in carrying pieces of a bicycle. He tried to put it together, having no luck on account of he was drunk.

Ma started belabouring him and then they fell to fighting over the pieces, swallowing drinks between.

“That’s him,” says my sister. “That’s Santa.”

Friday Fictioneers

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