Snowball Read online

  Andre Gonzalez

  Snowball

  First published by M4L Publishing 2019

  Copyright © 2019 by Andre Gonzalez

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

  Andre Gonzalez asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

  First edition

  ISBN: 978-1-7327762-8-9

  Cover art by ebooklaunch.com

  Editing by Stephanie Cohen-Perez

  This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

  Find out more at reedsy.com

  For Selena. Welcome to the world!

  “One of the most glorious messes in the world is the mess created in the living room on Christmas day. Don’t clean it up too quickly.”

  -Andy Rooney

  Contents

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  December 7

  December 8

  December 9

  December 10

  December 11

  December 12

  December 13

  December 14

  December 15

  December 16

  December 17

  December 18

  December 19

  December 20

  December 21

  December 22

  December 23

  December 24

  December 24 (evening)

  December 25

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

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  About the Author

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  A Poisoned Mind - The Exalls know no limits.

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  1

  December 7

  The Armstrong family, though young, had a tradition of decorating the house for Christmas on the first Saturday of December. Little did they know the terror waiting on the other side of the holiday season of 2019.

  Decorating was an all-day event. Brandon Armstrong started his morning at seven o’clock, dragging the creaky old ladder from the garage to hang an array of lights and an inflatable Santa Claus to overlook the neighborhood from their rooftop. His muscles were loose, ready for the treachery ahead.

  Brandon was by no means a physical prodigy, but managed to keep himself in healthy shape. He had hazel eyes and black hair that formed a subtle widow’s peak his wife liked to play with when they lazed on the couch in the evenings.

  He and his wife, Erin, had come a long way since life as an engaged couple in a small townhouse eight years ago. Those times were much simpler, with only two windows to decorate in addition to a skinny Christmas tree. Erin seemed to add more decorations to their growing collection every year, turning it into a demanding annual project.

  While Brandon spent the first two hours of his day on the roof, Erin remained inside with the kids, keeping them entertained with Christmas movies, coloring books, and toys, all so she could pack away any visible non-Christmas decor. Even the kitchen had to be remodeled with Christmas-themed dishes and silverware, placemats, and Santa seat covers. By the end of the brutal day, it looked as if the North Pole had vomited all over their home.

  They reached this point of the night, a few minutes past nine. The kids were in bed, and Brandon and Erin were relaxing on the living room couch, admiring the completed Christmas tree. The smells of the evening lingered: freshly baked cookies and a newly lit peppermint-scented candle to further enhance the festive mood.

  As much as Brandon found all of this absurd and unnecessary, the first night of the holiday ambiance always put Erin in the mood. After the kids had fallen asleep, she slipped into her Mrs. Claus lingerie of red silk panties and a red velvet top with fuzzy white trim that ended just above her belly button. She wore a matching Santa hat, letting her wavy ginger hair flow freely below it. They enjoyed a drink together, Erin sipping from a Frosty the Snowman mug filled with rum-spiked eggnog, while Brandon tended to a glass of scotch.

  “Another year in the books,” Erin sighed as she leaned on Brandon’s shoulder. She looked up to him with her big brown eyes and lightly freckled face.

  “The house looks great,” Brandon replied. “As always.” It was far from another year in the books. There was still gift shopping, visiting family, and trying to keep the kids from turning into spoiled brats after the barrage of presents they would receive. Brandon looked forward to December 26th when all of the drama would finally come to an end, then again to the first Saturday of January when they spent another day returning their house to normal, sending Christmas back into storage where it waited another eleven months to return.

  “I got us something new this year to try with the kids,” Erin said, rising from the couch on her thick, gymnast legs. She dashed into the kitchen, the sounds of cupboards opening and closing. Her feet whispered along the hardwood floor as she returned, a doll the color of wheat toast clutched between both hands. She held it up like an ancient relic, a smirking elf dressed in green tights looking at Brandon with a crazed stare, one plastic eyeball fixed on him, the other pointed toward the ceiling.

  Nemo, the family’s brown Dachshund, whimpered at the sight of the doll and cowered under the Christmas tree.

  “What the hell is that thing?” Brandon asked, a crooked grin spreading across his face.

  “He’s an Elf on the Shelf doll I picked up at the thrift store.”

  Nearly all of their Christmas decor had come from the damn thrift store, so
it was no surprise for Brandon to hear of this latest purchase.

  “I thought those elves were supposed to wear red and look cute. Not this raggedy thing.”

  “It doesn’t matter what the elf looks like, as long as it’s an elf we can move around the house. Just think of all the fun we’ll have with the kids.”

  “The kids? I’ve seen what adults do with these dolls,” Brandon said with a chuckle. “Set up the elf for an orgy with naked Barbie dolls. Have him passed out on the counter with empty booze bottles around him. I just might have to try and get a laugh out of you.”

  “Don’t you dare let the kids see him doing anything raunchy,” Erin snapped, fighting off a smile of her own. She waved the elf in the air as she sat back on the couch next to Brandon.

  “He’s kind of creepy-looking, don’t you think?” Brandon asked.

  Erin smacked him in the arm. “He’s cute!”

  She shoved the doll in Brandon’s face, the elf’s graycrooked eyes staring in every direction, its pointy red hat flopping over its dark brown hair made of yarn. Its body and outfit were clearly made from an old felt that trapped the musty smell of its history, pleasantly arriving in their living room.

  “If you say so. What do we do?”

  “It’s easy; we just move him every night to a different place in the house. Have him do something new. The kids wake up and have to find him. His story is that Santa sends him to keep an eye on the kids and report back if they’ve been naughty or nice.”

  “Again, creepy.”

  “Oh, B, it’s for the kids, and they won’t think it’s creepy. They’re gonna love him! Speaking of, they’ll need to give him a name tomorrow morning when he ‘arrives’ for the first time. So start thinking of Christmas names that we can suggest.”

  “It’s hard for me to think of anything with you lying next to me in your outfit. Maybe we can let the elf know we’ve been naughty.”

  Brandon tipped his mug back to finish his alcohol while Erin giggled.

  “If you keep making fun of the elf, maybe he’ll be the only one who gets to see what’s underneath.”

  “I’d like to see him try.”

  Brandon leaned in, Erin lying back as she tossed the elf aside to wrap her arms around Brandon’s broad shoulders. Nemo let out another whine, but it fell upon deaf ears. They would remain on the couch for the next hour, their clothes piled on the floor, the elf’s sideways stare locked on them the entire time.

  2

  December 8

  Brandon woke the next morning because of a little girl’s giggles coming from down the hallway. The bedrooms were all on the house’s third level. For a Sunday morning, the sunlight remained rather dim, the clouds outside growing thick as they prepared to dump feet of snow on the Denver area over the coming weeks.

  Riley, their four-year-old daughter, was finally learning the practice of leaving Mommy and Daddy alone on weekend mornings, letting them sleep in a few more minutes than normal while she played with toy ponies in her bedroom. This peaceful routine only worked until their two-year-old son, Jordan, woke up and immediately started fighting with his sister, ripping the ponies from her hands and throwing them out into the hallway with an evil snicker. This always led to Riley whining, followed by her smacking Jordan and causing an emphatic wail.

  This particular morning was no different, and after their heated exchange, both kids ended up in Brandon and Erin’s bedroom, yanking Brandon out of bed to pour their cereal for breakfast. Riley grabbed his arm with her tiny hands, pulling until he swung his legs over the edge. The kids were spitting images of their parents, Riley resembling her mother with light red hair and brown eyes, Jordan a miniature version of Brandon with his dark hair, hazel eyes, and the early hint of a prominent jaw beneath his chubby cheeks.

  He led them downstairs, groggy and bleary-eyed, as they chirped around him with a morning energy he could never reciprocate. They reached the main level and turned into the family room where the TV was turned on, showing Brandon’s favorite holiday movie, Christmas Vacation.

  “Erin, you left the TV on all night!” he shouted upstairs, receiving an exhausted moan in return. The elf sat on the couch, the TV remote at his side as he smirked that creepy half-smile. “And you did it for the elf? Really?”

  “Daddy, what’s that?” Riley asked, stepping up to their new holiday family member. A sticky note lay at its side, and Brandon snatched it up to read.

  “Hi kids, I’m Santa’s special helper all the way from the North Pole. I’m here to let him know if you’ve been naughty or nice. Give me a name and we can be the best of friends. And don’t forget the most important rule: don’t touch me, or else I lose all of my magic!”

  Brandon was probably supposed to read the note with a bit more enthusiasm, but he was tired and had no way to muster the energy for it.

  Heavy footsteps hit the ceiling above them, Erin jumping out of bed and running down the stairs. “Wait!” she yelled, entering the family room as she fastened a robe over her body. She crouched down to meet the kids’ eye level. “I thought I heard little footsteps on the roof last night. This is our new elf – what do you think?”

  Erin did have the energy to radiate her excitement for their new elf, and this immediately riled up both kids.

  “Santa elf,” Jordan said, his vocabulary still growing by the day.

  “Mommy, he said we need to give him a name,” Riley said, matter-of-fact, batting her long eyelashes.

  “I heard. What do you think we should name him? Think of Christmas words.”

  Riley pursed her lips as she entered a child’s version of deep thought, counting the millions of possibilities on what to name their elf.

  “I know!” she cried out. “Snowball!”

  Erin grinned. “That’s a perfect name, I love it.”

  “S’owball,” Jordan repeated, gazing cautiously at the elf on their couch, his thumb returning to its comfortable spot between his lips.

  “Hi, Snowball,” Riley said, leaning on the front of the couch for a closer look.

  “Don’t touch him, or else he can’t fly back to the North Pole to tell Santa that you’ve been a good girl.”

  “So he’s going to sit in the middle of the couch all day on a Sunday while we’re home?” Brandon asked, rolling his eyes. Sundays in the winter were for drinking booze, eating pizza, and watching football. Now he had to share his space with a twelve-inch elf whose frozen, bizarre eyes stared in the precise location of the TV.

  “Think of him as your new best friend,” Erin said with a giggle.

  “Well, I hope he’s a Packers fan, or else he might get thrown outside.”

  “No, Daddy!” Riley shouted, inserting herself between him and the elf.

  “No, Daddy!” Jordan repeated, not sure what was going on, but copying his big sister.

  “Relax, you two. Snowball will be safe and isn’t going anywhere. Daddy is joking.” Erin crouched down again to calm the kids. “Let’s go eat breakfast and leave Snowball alone.”

  She led the kids into the kitchen while Brandon settled into the open space to the left of the elf, out of its vision. He sat back and enjoyed the movie, his entire body aching from the hours of manual labor on the roof yesterday.

  Erin disrupted the mood by blaring Christmas music in the kitchen, a routine that would drive Brandon toward the brink of insanity with every note of “Jingle Bells” and “Santa Baby” chipping away at his mind. Riley sang along, learning the words to all the songs to add to the orchestra of noise that accompanied this time of year.

  It had become a skill over time to block out the sound of Christmas tunes, and even with plenty of practice, it wasn’t always possible to completely ignore it. The next two weeks would be filled with it whether he was at home, work, or out in public. It was unavoidable, just like his new task of moving the elf around the house every night.

  He’d leave the stress for later, knowing a hot shower awaited to soothe his muscles before starting his Sunday footb
all ritual for the final time.

  3

  December 9

  Monday morning brought the start of a new work week, Brandon rolling out of bed at six to get ready for the day. He worked for a tech company downtown that specialized in maintaining benefits and payroll for small businesses. The work itself was a little dry, but he enjoyed the office environment with its alcohol cart, lax dress code, and beautiful location in the heart of downtown Denver. He didn’t even have a set schedule, able to arrive as he pleased, opting to leave the house by 6:30 so that he could return home early enough to enjoy time with the kids before they went to bed.

  Erin worked at a preschool but didn’t have to go in until nine. She continued her light snoring as Brandon slipped into his jeans, tiptoeing around their bedroom so as not to disturb a soul in the silent house. Once dressed, he shuffled down the hallway to poke his head into each kid’s bedroom, blowing them a silent kiss and wishing them a good day, before returning to give Erin a kiss on the forehead. She always returned a half-mumble, half-moan, then rolled back on to her side for a final hour of sleep.

  Running a couple minutes behind, Brandon remembered that he forgot to move the damn elf to a different location last night. He raced down the stairs, his footsteps heavy thuds against the silence. He’d have to make it a simple move for the elf this morning, no time to figure out something elaborate, not that the kids would know any different. They were simply floundered by the little guy’s magical abilities. Brandon swung around the corner into the family room and stopped himself when he found the elf not sitting on the couch, figuring Erin had moved Snowball before she went up to bed.