Christmas Calling

A Party

(a/n: this is a very odd story that I wrote in preparation for Christmas. I don't know why I thought this was a good idea, as it's not very festive. I wanted to try writing different characters and different situations than I normally do, and I guess I sort of did that...I realize it's probably quite confusing and nonsensical, but I just wanted to try something different. meh.)

"What a wonderful house! Your decorations are just adorable!" Sherry Pallant drawled, tapping her lacquered purple nails against the glass of a Parisian snowglobe. "Absolutely exquisite! It smells wonderful in here, dear, is that gingerbread?"  

Wendy Barlow smiled warmly. "Why, thank you. I do believe there is gingerbread set out. Speaking of food - please excuse me, I need to check up on the kitchen. The snacks are there, please help yourself." She gestured to the tables behind her. 

"Of course, of course." Mrs. Pallant clasped her hands against her heart and stared up at the vaulted ceiling. 

I've never seen a more theatrical woman in my life. Wendy shook her head as she walked away. The spike of her heel caught in the tassels of a rug, and she tripped forward onto the man in front of her. The shrimp on the toothpick he had been holding dropped to the white carpet next to the rug, splattering red sauce. 

Mrs. Barlow stopped breathing for a minute and whispered, "What do you think you're doing?" 

The young man widened his girlish eyelashes. Mrs. Barlow snapped her fingers at the nearest waiter and pointed to the spoiled carpet. He immediately started wiping it up. 

Lord help me, if I can get through this -  

The sprawling living room was furnished with cushioned armchairs and tables laden with hot, fragrant food on silver trays. Guests in elegant dresses and tailored suits draped themselves over the chairs and one another, and Mrs. Barlow knew that the scene would only get more disorderly as the servants started bringing out the champagne. The Christmas carols that should have been playing weren't audible through the conversations and laughter and - was that shouting? Mrs. Barlow whipped her head around to find her children, who had been sharply advised as to what would happen if they didn't behave. I can't believe them! I know I told the maids to keep them under control - She couldn't see around the people surrounding her. 

"IT'S ALMOST CHRISTMAS!" A small object barreled through the room, her hair billowing around her, and flew straight into Wendy's leg. Wendy kicked her off and began shouting as quietly as she could. 

"Ingrid Michaela, what have I told you about - " 

The child, who Wendy now saw was not her daughter, glanced up and burst into tears. Wendy rolled her eyes. Her children were nowhere to be seen, but as long as they weren't with the fiend who was now sprawled crying on the floor, she would be satisfied for now. 

She continued through the ginger-scented maze and made it to the door behind the monstrous Christmas tree. It was a live tree, tall enough to brush the ceiling, and it dropped needles all over the carpet, so Wendy had ordered one of the maids to stand behind it with a handheld vacuum. Wendy brushed against the tree as she passed, and several needles fell off. She sighed. Surely the hot chocolate was done by now. Where was Marvin? It was his tradition, certainly not Wendy's. 

The kitchen door flew open and Marvin emerged, holding up a giant green mug. "The hot chocolate's ready! Want one?" 

"No, I don't need a hot chocolate," Wendy scoffed, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Marvin knew that hot chocolate was fattening and vulgar, and yet he insisted on it at every Christmas party. A waiter passed by with a tray of full wine glasses, and Wendy accepted one gladly.  

"Let's do our own toast first anyway," Marvin's voice boomed. He was still beaming. How could he keep up that smile for so long? 

"Let's. I want to stay away from Sherry Pallant for as long as possible," Wendy answered, instinctively looking around the crowd to make sure the tall woman wasn't approaching.  

Marvin clinked his glass against Wendy's. "To happiness, and good health, and all that." He raised his mugs to his lips, and Wendy did the same, taking a generous sip of the expensive wine. 

Marvin's eyes widened after he took the first sip of his hot chocolate. Exaggerating, as always. He was almost as bad as Sherry Pallant. She expected him to express his approval of the sugary drink. But the mug slipped silently from his grip, and he followed it, crumpling to the ground.  

Wendy's husband lay crumpled on the soiled carpet, and she screamed. The rest of the guests slowly stopped talking as they turned to see what was going on. 

After an interminable amount of time, Wendy stopped screaming, and for a moment, there was only the low crooning of a Christmas carol. 

Then, chaos.