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Message-ID: <40065asstr$1040775004@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: mmtwassel@aol.com (mat twassel)
Subject: {ASSM} Mat Twassel: Christmas Pie (Christmas)
Date: Tue, 24 Dec 2002 19:10:04 -0500
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Christmas Pie
by Mat Twassel
==============

Jerry brought the stuff over a little after noon, 
figuring worst case he'd just leave it on the porch. 
Along with a fresh turkey of fifteen pounds, a Tupperware 
container of stuffing mix: onions, mushrooms, celery all 
chopped in, all ready to go, and balanced on top a 
pumpkin pie, everything home made, he had a treat to take 
care of Diablo, the neighbor's pesky German Shepherd, but 
as it turned out Joyce was there to answer the door.

"I brought you a turkey," Jerry said, "just in case."  
His arms were full, not that he expected a hug.

Puzzled for a moment, Joyce said, "That's sweet of you."

"Um, where should I put it?"

Jerry could hear Mark in the background, his jolly, 
"Who's there, honey?"

"Oh, just set it down. Set it down anywhere. We'll figure 
out  refrigerator space later."

"Did you have one? You can always use an extra turkey, 
right?"

"Right.  Thanks."

"I didn't know if you'd got one.  I was thinking maybe 
you hadn't, you know? You were always ... And what with 
it being so close to Christmas ..."

"Look, I'd ask you in, but ... but we're kind of, you 
know?"

"Are Jimmy and Jeff?" Peering over Joyce's shoulder Jerry 
could see the tree, lots of lights, tinsel, bright shiny 
ornaments, and underneath lots and lots of handsomely 
wrapped packages. He didn't see the presents he'd mailed, 
but that didn't mean anything--maybe they were buried. 

"At friends," Joyce said.

"Right." 

"Okay," Jerry said.  "Sure, well, Merry Christmas."

"Right. Merry Christmas."

"Everything okay, honey?" Jerry heard as the door closed.

In years past Jerry and Joyce stuffed the turkey 
Christmas morning while the twins played with their new 
toys. Jerry would hold the bird open while Joyce spooned 
in the mix.  "You love my stuffing," Jerry always 
remarked.  "I love your stuffing," Joyce always answered. 
While the twins napped, or later when they were old 
enough to play out of doors with their toys guns, with 
the turkey roasting in a slow oven and the tree lights 
glittering softly, Joyce and Jerry would make love--not 
quite a quickie, but urgent just in case--the Christmas 
afternoon fuck became a tradition, too.  Driving back to 
his apartment, Jerry wondered if it was one Joyce and 
Mark would continue. Or more likely they had traditions 
of their own, though it'd only been a year, a year to the 
day that he'd waited up half the night, having tucked 
Jeffie and Jimmy in, having given them each their bedtime 
snack and story, having sat by the blinking tree while 
the traditional bottle of pinot noir sat unopened on the 
coffee table and the hours limped along. 

"Remember the office Christmas party last year?" Joyce 
said, melting into Mark's embrace. It was where they'd 
first kissed, the corner near the Xerox, and an hour 
later the sweet explosion of his handsome cock in her 
mouth in the supply closet, and an hour after that in her 
cunt in the cab on the way to his place, and an hour 
after that in her ass on his pull-out couch not even 
pulled out. Sometimes she could almost come just thinking 
about it.  Too bad cost-cutting got this year's company 
party.

"What's all this stuff on the porch?"  It was Jimmy and 
Jeff bursting in. Jeffie was holding the pie.

"Just stuff," Joyce said.  "A Christmas pie. Put it down. 
We're going to throw it out."

"Throw it out?" Jimmy cried. "It's Dad's pie, isn't it? 
Why are we going to throw it out?"

"Yeah, why are we going to throw it out?" Jeffie put in.  
"We like Dad's pie."

"He is a good cook," Mark said.  He laughed heartily.  
"His restaurant didn't go under because he was a bad 
cook."

"Yeah, let's keep it," Jimmy said.  "Christmas pie, 
Christmas pie, Christmas pie," he and Jeffie chanted.

"No way," Joyce said. "You two take it out to the garbage 
right now, and that's final. And then come in and wash 
your hands.  And stamp your feet real good. It's starting 
to snow and I don't want snow tracked all over the 
house."

Glumly the boys did as she asked.

The snow continued throughout the afternoon and evening 
and well into the night. By morning there were some 
impressive drifts across the backyard, but not quite 
enough to cover the body of Diablo.




==============
Christmas Pie
by Mat Twassel


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-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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