The Plight Before Christmas(5)
Dad
Donor of the sperm that created you.
December 19, 2021
Subject: Collins Christmas Karaoke I miss the days when you couldn’t figure out how to text, and you put LOL at the end of everything.
Best,
The only sperm that counts. Please keep in mind that this is my COMPANY email address.
Brenden Collins
CEO Networth Inc.
Serena chimes in next.
December 19, 2021
Subject: Collins Christmas Karaoke Filled it out Dad. Love you. -Serena O’Neal sent via iPhone
December 19, 2021
Subject: Collins Christmas Karaoke Serena,
You’re in the next room. You could have told me.
Dad
December 19, 2021
Subject: Collins Christmas Karaoke You guys are blowing up my email. Stop replying all.
Serena is an ass-kisser.
Sincerely,
The only person worthy of carrying on the family name.
Brenden Collins
CEO Networth Inc.
December 19, 2021
Subject: Collins Christmas Karaoke I don’t have your form in yet, Son.
Allen Collins
#BOSS
December 19, 2021
Subject: Collins Christmas Karaoke This isn’t social media, Dad. You don’t use hashtags on email. LOL.
-Serena O’Neal sent via iPhone An automated reply from Brenden pops up immediately.
December 19, 2021
Subject: Collins Christmas Karaoke I’m currently out of the office until January 3rd. Please email my assistant for further assistance—[email protected] Brenden Collins
CEO Networth Inc.
December 19, 2021
Subject: Collins Christmas Karaoke Happy Holidays Adria,
I’m writing in regard to my son’s lack of capability in filling out a simple form. I’m unsure at this point how he graduated from college and obtained the position necessary to occupy a CEO desk chair and take a salary. Please see attached Google document and assist him in filling it out. This is time-sensitive, so I appreciate your help in resolving this urgent matter.
Sincerely,
Allen Collins
President of all things Collins #fillouttheformson
#imashamedyourethewinningsperm
I belt out my first genuine laugh of the day and set the phone down, knowing Brenden is going to have Dad’s ass for going there. I emerge from underwater a minute later when Adria’s reply comes through.
December 19, 2021
Subject: Collins Christmas Karaoke Dear Mr. Collins,
I’m not at all surprised by your request, nor your complaint. Your son has a self-inflated ego that can often compromise him at home. As his wife’s best friend and the sole reason they stay married, I sympathize completely. Also, I often hear him jamming out to old eighties girl groups, and last week, I believe he was belting out something by Heart. This should make an interesting selection. I will fill out the document on his behalf with a few more choice songs I think all will enjoy. All my sympathy for your embarrassment.
Adria Dillion
Senior Assistant, Networth Inc.
December 19, 2021
Subject: Collins Christmas Karaoke Christmas is canceled. Adria is fired. I hope you’re happy, Clark.
Brenden Collins
CEO Networth Inc.
December 19, 2021
Subject: Collins Christmas Karaoke Heart and The Bangles? Really, son? Where are your balls?
Allen Collins
Father of two daughters Thoroughly entertained but deciding not to engage, I unplug the drain, dry, dress, and fill out the form before packing. After lugging my case to the door, I glance around my lifeless apartment and decide that time with my family is exactly what I need to turn things around. Just as I go to turn off the TV, Judy Garland’s “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” plays in the background of a commercial. I decide to take it as a sign. The upside of bottoming out is that it can only get better from here…right?
Taking a right on the short road that dead-ends at my grandparent’s cabin, my engine whines in protest due to the steepness of the hill and the fact that my car is an outdated piece of shit incapable of handling mountainous terrain. Stupidly, I celebrated too soon when I crossed into North Carolina at the Tennessee border. Thirty seconds away from parking safely, I’m reminded the celebration was premature.
“No, God, no, no!” The engine begins to steam and stall as the incline plasters me back to my seat just as I catch sight of the cabin which sits to the left, perched only a handful of yards from the edge of the cliff. Terrified I’ll somehow backslide, I send up a thousand prayers and miraculously manage to take the sharp left, up another steep incline, and into the driveway.
Heart pounding, I peel my ghostly white fingers from the wheel and sigh in relief, knowing I should’ve bit the bullet in buying a new car months ago, but I waited in vain. With the increase in salary from my promotion, I planned on buying a shiny new SUV, something with leather seats that practically drives itself.
Though I make a good living with my executive salary, I’ve kept the sedan far past its reliable years for some inexplicable reason.
The car itself declares its existence and our time together over as it exacerbates sputtering to its death as the morning full of hope I mustered in the six-hour drive evaporates—much like the smoke seeping from all sides of my hood. Breathing out a sigh of relief, I kick back into my seat and slowly exhale. Reaching behind the passenger seat, I blindly rummage through my supply box and grip whatever bottle is closest. Once armed, I unscrew the top and down a mouthful of warm Jack Daniels to settle my nerves.