The year grows late and festivals from all different faith and belief hang their decorations from front porch to window pane across the country and around the world. Old and new age ceremonial pageantry to appease the gods and keep the faithful on their instilled paths of righteousness. Each one looking queer eyed at their neighbor tsk-tsking at the poor fools who don’t understand their misguided ways.
He found himself welcome in our home countless times over the years before with no knowledge that we did not tread through similar holy waters as he and his. Old friends sharing laughter, stories of horrible day jobs and cases of beer during football games. Nothing unexpected or out of the ordinary for neighbors at all. It never occurred to ask him why we didn’t string lights or burn candles as everyone else on the street did.
When he knocked on the door two nights ago, my son opened with a wide grin.
“Dad, Mr. Caton’s here!” I heard his bare footfalls slapping through the ceiling above me running to his room.
I dropped my onyx robe to the floor and removed the headpiece carefully resting it in the pillowed cradle. In my haste, I neglected to remove the soft gloves before climbing the basement stairs.
“Hey Josh!” I pushed the door shut behind me being sure to steady my startled breath.
“How are you Anton?” He stood next to the wide, oak book case eyes Cris-crossing the spines of our collection. “Thought I’d come over with a quick holiday gift for you before we leave tomorrow.”
“Well, that’s nice of you man.” I stopped beside him observing the bottle of red wine with a green ribbon tied neatly around its neck. Obviously something chosen and decorated by his far more civilized and tasteful wife. “We’ve never given each other holiday presents before.”
“Yeah. Something Michelle wants to start new this year and…” Our fingers touched as he passed the wine to me. He lingered on the crushed velvet's softness. “What’s the deal with the gloves bro?”
“Oh…nothing.”
“Working on something kinky in the basement?”
“Yup…” I held my breath. “Janna and I are just going through some old boxes. Getting rid of crap. You know…”
“Finding the decorations?” He nodded with a wink. “Always a pain in the ass.”
“Sure. Sure.” I shifted my weight from foot to foot.
“You guys mind watering the plants until we get home?” He asked raising an eyebrow. “We get back on Wednesday.”
“No problem. I’m sure the ladies have already talked about the details.”
“What’s that mean?” He lifted the iron pendant from my chest. “Damn it's heavy.”
“Don’t touch that.” Before even thinking about it, I smacked his hand away.
“Whoa. Easy Anton!”
“Sorry Josh.” I moved back swiftly brushing the tainted germs from my lord’s flesh.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” I let the pendant swing it’s weight against the thick links around my neck. “We weren’t expecting visitors tonight. That’s all.”
My youngest son Robert ran across the room, naked save the thirteen vertical crimson stripes dripping from forehead to knees, opened the basement door and thudded down the stairs. His laughter echoing between the walls and off the kitchen floor was nearly drowned out by Janna’s moaning chants and the cracking of rope against skin.
“What’s going on here bro?”
“’Tis the season.” I mumbled quietly to myself.
“Is everything okay?” Josh walked to the kitchen leaning to take a peek into the basement.
“Everything is perfect.” I raised the bottle high over my head.
“’Tis the season!”
amk
12.16.14
He found himself welcome in our home countless times over the years before with no knowledge that we did not tread through similar holy waters as he and his. Old friends sharing laughter, stories of horrible day jobs and cases of beer during football games. Nothing unexpected or out of the ordinary for neighbors at all. It never occurred to ask him why we didn’t string lights or burn candles as everyone else on the street did.
When he knocked on the door two nights ago, my son opened with a wide grin.
“Dad, Mr. Caton’s here!” I heard his bare footfalls slapping through the ceiling above me running to his room.
I dropped my onyx robe to the floor and removed the headpiece carefully resting it in the pillowed cradle. In my haste, I neglected to remove the soft gloves before climbing the basement stairs.
“Hey Josh!” I pushed the door shut behind me being sure to steady my startled breath.
“How are you Anton?” He stood next to the wide, oak book case eyes Cris-crossing the spines of our collection. “Thought I’d come over with a quick holiday gift for you before we leave tomorrow.”
“Well, that’s nice of you man.” I stopped beside him observing the bottle of red wine with a green ribbon tied neatly around its neck. Obviously something chosen and decorated by his far more civilized and tasteful wife. “We’ve never given each other holiday presents before.”
“Yeah. Something Michelle wants to start new this year and…” Our fingers touched as he passed the wine to me. He lingered on the crushed velvet's softness. “What’s the deal with the gloves bro?”
“Oh…nothing.”
“Working on something kinky in the basement?”
“Yup…” I held my breath. “Janna and I are just going through some old boxes. Getting rid of crap. You know…”
“Finding the decorations?” He nodded with a wink. “Always a pain in the ass.”
“Sure. Sure.” I shifted my weight from foot to foot.
“You guys mind watering the plants until we get home?” He asked raising an eyebrow. “We get back on Wednesday.”
“No problem. I’m sure the ladies have already talked about the details.”
“What’s that mean?” He lifted the iron pendant from my chest. “Damn it's heavy.”
“Don’t touch that.” Before even thinking about it, I smacked his hand away.
“Whoa. Easy Anton!”
“Sorry Josh.” I moved back swiftly brushing the tainted germs from my lord’s flesh.
“What are you doing?”
“Nothing.” I let the pendant swing it’s weight against the thick links around my neck. “We weren’t expecting visitors tonight. That’s all.”
My youngest son Robert ran across the room, naked save the thirteen vertical crimson stripes dripping from forehead to knees, opened the basement door and thudded down the stairs. His laughter echoing between the walls and off the kitchen floor was nearly drowned out by Janna’s moaning chants and the cracking of rope against skin.
“What’s going on here bro?”
“’Tis the season.” I mumbled quietly to myself.
“Is everything okay?” Josh walked to the kitchen leaning to take a peek into the basement.
“Everything is perfect.” I raised the bottle high over my head.
“’Tis the season!”
amk
12.16.14
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