Copyrights reserved by the author. If you are in doubt, please click on 'Copyrights' and read the details.
Cold outside? Try losing a Christmas present from your wife by J. G. Fabiano
There I stood, in the parking lot at Home Depot. I was staring into the cab of my truck, knowing that the sight of one glove on the front seat could mean only one thing: I had lost 50 percent of the Christmas gift my loving wife had given me and I was in deep trouble! What made things worse was that my wife was waiting inside the store, for me to come and get her and she was watching me through the window wondering what the hell was taking me so long. What made this scene even more uncomfortable was it wasn’t just one of the coldest nights of the year, it was one of the coldest nights of the century. As I observed my wife’s questioning expression I knew what would ordinarily be a minor inconvenience was about to become a quest. I was damned if I was going to lose something I sincerely liked. More important I was damned if I was going to spend the rest of the year condemned to having my wife remind me how I had lost her Christmas present. The search began. Desperately I scanned the parking lot for the missing black leather glove, only to realize that nothing black was likely to stand out against a couple of acres of black pavement in the black of night. I hurried around the truck, kicking at small mounds of snow to see if any of them concealed my glove. Then it hit me; a chilling wind gust of about 50 M.P.H., snatching away my breath and trying to freeze my eyelids shut. I realized such a wind could have blown my glove anywhere. I quickly expanded my search, looking around the neighboring parking spaces as the wind tried to strip my face from my skull. The problem with this was there were cars in all those parking spaces. I ran from car to car, kneeling down to look under each one to see if the missing glove was stuck there. I got no further than the second car when I realized I was in more trouble. Seeing nothing under the car I went to stand up. I couldn’t, my pants had become frozen to the asphalt! Holding onto the door handle I heaved myself upright only to hear a nasty ripping sound and feel a sharp blast of Arctic air up both pant legs. Looking down I saw the knees of both pants stuck to the ground. In only a few minutes I had just destroyed two of my wife’s Christmas presents. There was no turning back now. The pants were destroyed so I had to find the glove, whatever the cost. I hurried over to the next car, briefly registering the startled faces of its occupants, as I ran up to them and then dived under their car. The freezing pavement against my bare knees was excruciating but I would not be discouraged. Unfortunately, the glove was nowhere to be seen and this time, when I went to get up, it was my head that wouldn’t move. I realized my hair had become stuck to the ground. I immediately had an image from Dumb and Dumber of Jeff Daniels with his tongue stuck to a ski lift. If I didn’t free myself I knew I would be found dead the next morning, my head frozen to the ground, my butt high in the air. Again I gave a mighty pull and this time the ripping noise was the sound of me leaving what little hair that was left on that side of my head stuck to the ground. I didn’t care because I was on a quest. I hurried to an SUV next, my bare knees and the side of my head stinging from the cold and pain. I crouched down to look for my missing glove when, suddenly, the truck door opened. I was worried I might have touched something that caused the door to spring open but then I heard a voice from inside the truck asking me what I thought I was doing? I looked up and saw a very large woman with a beard. At least I think it was a woman because, although the voice was low, she was wearing what looked like a long dress and a pink wool hat. I told her I was looking for a lost glove at which point she asked me if I needed any help. I told her no but I appreciated her offering and then I think she winked at me. I hurried away thinking that you could never be sure who you would meet in the parking lot at Home Depot after dark. I checked under more cars and trucks, looking for my glove and finding nothing. My knees were now covered with caked blood and my gloveless hands had lost all feeling. I noticed more people watching me and realized I probably looked like some sort of foreign terrorist attempting to plant bombs underneath people’s cars. I say this because soon afterwards a man in a security uniform approached me. I was on the ground looking under a lime-green Hyundai, he tapped me on the shoulder and asked me what the hell I was doing. I explained to him I was looking for a lost glove. He told me no glove was worth dying for and I explained it was a Christmas present from my wife and that she was waiting in the store for me. He then looked in the direction of my wife, saw the expression on her face and said: "Better you than me, pal." Then he left. I expanded my search deeper into the parking lot. The wind had increased to what felt like tornado conditions, driving the temperature further below zero, but I did not care because I knew deep in my frozen heart, my glove was destined to be found. I also noticed that most people who left the store waited until I was far away before they would approach their car. They must have come to the conclusion that anyone wandering through a parking lot with bare and bloody knees on one of the coldest nights of the year was somebody to avoid. I looked over to the store window again and saw that my wife was no longer alone. She had been joined by several other people who, apparently, had nothing better to do than watch me run around the parking lot, bobbing up and down between the cars like a retriever during duck hunting season. I had reached the point when I no longer had any feeling left in my body and I was about to give up when I noticed a little black bump on a snow pile at the edge of the parking lot. Knowing I had but a few minutes of life left in me I limped over and, to my absolute amazement, there stood my glove. It looked as though it had been run over by a few cars before it had been thrown up onto this snow pile but it still had the shape of a hand. A hand with the middle finger stuck up as though it was trying to tell me something! I picked it up and limped back into the store to be greeted by a spontaneous burst of applause from the small crowd of spectators who had joined my wife. Encouraged, I held up the mangled glove as if it were a token of my undying love ... and that was when most of the spectators left. My wife didn’t say a word. Not then. Not all the way back home in the truck! Even my occasional moan of pain failed to elicit a word of sympathy as the feeling crept slowly back into my frozen hands and bloodied knees. When we pulled into the garage she got out and went straight upstairs. Both of us knew the glove was unsalvageable and would have to go straight into the garbage, along with the new pants. I thought it had been cold in the parking lot but when I climbed into bed beside my wife that night I swear it was even colder. I decided I should wait until later before I told her about the scarf!
The End
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
