“All I want for Christmas is my two front teefffffff.”
Alvin and the Chipmunks
The mommies didn’t really have to respond to the invites because they were too unclear. When they got back home, they were surprised by the white envelopes that lay at their door steps. The writing was fine. The papers were fine. It was the fact that there was no sign at the bottom. Plus the fact that the invitees were the mommies’ little boys and girls.
That’s what was puzzling about the whole business. Because in the end they left their darlings go to the party and they left them at the strange looking house, to be picked at the end of the day.
The party was in full swing when Iwaya got there. He was clutching his doll fiercely and staring down everyone. He was spoiling for a fight of course because he knew someone would joke about him and the dolls he played with. All the other little boys play with cars. So what was wrong with this little boy?
In the corner, down-weighed by his daddy’s jeans and his mom’s shades, Sav sat at the small table holding court. Around him, the little boys who all wanted their friends to know that they had the bestest little toy cars jutted little jaws out. Sav was holding court because everyone had accepted that they had to be second to him. He had brought the real thing, or so he said. He’d told his little friends that he had driven his dad’s car to the party. And that daddy dearest had let him.
In the middle of the room, the girls were singing. Or talking. Or crying. It was difficult to know what was going on with them because any of these activities was possible with them at any moment. Someone was crying because someone had tagged on their hair. Another was giggling because Degstar had said something in her ear. It was probably something naughty.
At the bar (of course being small boys and girls, there was nothing strong at the bar. We were all just playin, you see), was Baz. The pirate’s rag on his head and the stupid looking nose ring didn’t do much to disguise him. He was looking like one of those little men in those Nigerian flicks.
That’s when the big guy in a red suit and a silly beard appeared. He kept on saying things like “ho, ho, ho.” The kids looked at him and just got mad. The more he spoke, the more the anger rose. These were definitely not his kind of kids, it turned out.
The bottles and cakes started flying. Not at the silly red guy but at anything that could be perceived as a target. Cakes, sweets, shoes, pillows and tables. Four year olds carrying mahogany tables over their heads just before they tossed them at each other.
The silly red guy in a silly suit escaped. Outside, he met the press and the police. It was a jungle. He was all over the evening news. He said all he ever wanted was to call the kids to a Christmas party. He wanted to wish the children of the neighbourhood a nice festive season. But then, how can you do that when the kids spend their time on the net doing something as crazy as blogging? This when normal kids are out playing with their friends.
‘Tis the season to be merry, I think.