After I had spent a little time remembering the Miracle of Stalag 9, the melting of the frost around my heart and all of that, I looked around the place. I was still there all by myself, and I knew that my room-mate was gone for the rest of the weekend, so I decided that I needed to do something to change the atmosphere of the place.

Then, thinking about Long Tall Sally and I wandered into my room and pulled open the closet door. It was dark in there so I reached around until I found the light switch and then turned it on. (Hey it’s a pink tree, where else would it be but in the closet?)

The danged thing was in there somewhere, so I searched until I found the box, picked it up and hauled it into the living room. I remembered that there was a bag somewhere in there as well which held the pathetic pile of ornaments I had bought last year, so I returned to the closet and dug them out and then returned to the living room with them.

Next I went to the refrigerator and grabbed one of the seasonally decorated cans of Miller sitting inside and popping the top wandered over to the stereo. I pushed the power on button and listened as it sprang to life with the sound of classic rock playing a bit more loudly than my neighbors would prefer.

Moving over to the fireplace, I lit the logs which were already in place on the grate. The fire in tandem with the music brought the place to life a little, but the music just wasn’t what the doctor ordered so I played with the tuner a bit and landed on the Christmas Music with teeth station.

It wasn’t very painful, so I left it there and opened the patio door so I could start freezing my butt off and really get the feel of the season.

I walked back over to where I had placed the box and pulled it open so I could get the tree out. I reached in and grabbed it and after a bit of a struggle I got it out of the box and set it up on the fittingly el cheapo plastic stand that came with it.

I put it up on the end table, (it’s only 4 feet tall) and untangled the electric cord so that it would be easily accessible when it was needed. After that, I began pulling the folded branches down so it would really look like a tree. An ugly, kind of pink chick tree, but a tree none the less.

I stepped back and looked at it on the table. It had aged a year now, which if had been red wine would have improved the taste, but it was not red wine and had not improved in the least, and was in fact just as tasteless as it was last year.

So far so good, and the Christmas music playing in the background in tandem with the roaring fire began to emit a Christmas-like feel to Stalag 9. The chilly air swept in through the patio door as I began to hang the ugly Elvis ornaments on the branches of the ugly chick tree.

I sat down on the futon thing that Surfer Girl sleeps on when she’s around and finished the first can of Miller. I wandered back to the kitchen and grabbed a fresh one and returned to the futon, popping the top of the replacement beverage.

The ugly chick tree was almost done, and despite the addition of Miller to the mix of the fire and the music, it still looked remarkably ugly and un Christmassy.

I thought about it for a minute, and I knew what had to happen next. I reached into the bag one last time and pulled out my beautiful if somewhat flawed, amputee angel.

I held my hand out in front of me and gazed lovingly at her. She was still beautiful in her own right so I gently reached up and placed her on the top of the tree.

“Sorry about the tree being so ugly sweetie.” I mumbled apologetically as I placed her in position.

Being an angel, at least that’s what I believe, she didn’t say a word but simply sat atop her imperfect tree and smiled down upon me angelically.

She looked like a queen up there gazing down at the place where there would have been presents if I’d had any money for some.

And then I reached down and grabbed a hold of the electrical cord and plugged it in to the outlet.

Just as the lights ignited the music on the radio switched to “Hark The Herald Angels Sing”.

My work for the night was done.

The Miller was done.

It was Christmas in Stalag 9 once more.

Still it didn’t feel quite right for some damned reason.

And then, it happened again. The phone rang so I answered it.

“Hi Steve. … I was just calling to wish you a Merry Christmas.” came the sound of Long Tall Sally’s voice over the phone.

“Thanks Sally.” I said. “You have a Merry Christmas too.”

“Goodnight Steve.” she said.

“Goodnight to you to Sally. Thanks for the call.” I said as I hung up the phone.

I guess I need to get a screen for my patio door, because as we said goodbye, a gust of wind must have blown something into my eye, because it started watering a lot and it wouldn’t stop.

Yeah, …. that’s it,  ….. I need a screen for that door.

Can’t have crap blowing in people’s eyes and stuff!