Deck The Halls With Brand New Stories: Ho Ho Holiday Anthology

Christmas Curse: A Holiday Romance

This story was contributed by BrittanieCharmintine

Leigh poured a pewter goblet of eggnog amply doused with whisky and a light sprinkling of nutmeg, then plopped down on the sofa next to her discount Christmas tree. She got it three years ago in the bargain bin at Target. None of the red lights worked, it smelled like Jolly Ranchers, and the fairy perched on top had a broken wing and a missing crown. The perfect tree for Cursed Christmas.

She took a swig of eggnog and shuddered as the liquid set her throat on fire. Maybe she'd gone a bit overboard on the whisky.

No matter. She had Christmas Eve Plans.

They included an evening of wallowing, while watching her favorite Christmas movie—Avalanche Sharks (don't judge, the movie boasts an Arctic, snow-filled landscape). What her Plan did not include, was a cell phone interruption with the dratted device buzzing and crooning Like a Virgin from some unknown location. Leigh had not been the one to set her ringtone to Madonna's pop anthem. No. That was the doing of her best friend Gabrielle, who thought it would be hilarious.

It's been so long, you're practically a virgin, Gaby loved pointing out.

Since Leigh had no clue how to change it back to something more normal and distinguished, it continued to be her ringtone. Hitting pause on the remote, she fished between the sofa cushions. She found a broken harp string, an ampoule of pixie dust, a shriveled mushroom, two golden feathers, a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle Pez dispenser, and three shiny pennies, but no phone.

Like a vir-er-er-er-gin ...

With increased vigor, she dug deeper into the cushions, cookie crumbs wedging into her fingernails.

Leigh didn't love being a practicing-virgin. She wouldn't have minded, for example, having a hot, technically-savvy, lover/tech hero to change her ring tone for her, but she'd long since given up the idea of having a lover—technically-savvy or otherwise.

Men are like Christmas presents—more appealing when wrapped. The minute you untie the ribbon and rip off the gilded paper, it's all disappointment, Leigh liked pointing this out to Gaby whenever she brought up the virgin business.

"Dammit, where is it?" Leigh dropped to the floor to check beneath the sofa. Something clunked against the leg of the coffee table. "Oh, pixiesticks!" she swore, upon discovering the phone had been in her robe pocket the whole time.

Unfortunately, the screen image was her own face staring back at her. "Ugh! A Facetime call!" This would make it harder to conceal the fact that she looked like the "before" on one of those reality makeover TV shows. Leigh sat and ran her fingers through her unruly blond locks, though it did nothing to improve her appearance.

She sighed and tapped the green button. Gaby's delicate, creamy face, framed by flouncy, perfect, shoulder-length lavender ringlets, shifted into view. She smiled, white teeth gleaming. Gaby was a lovechild between a Greek god and the tooth fairy. It was super annoying.

"Gabs," Leigh said, trying to incorporate—"I am really busy, and your phone call interrupted me at the best part of the movie so leave me alone and let me wallow"—into the subtext.

"You're watching it, aren't you?"

Leigh resisted the urge to look at the paused TV screen. "Watching what?"

"Come on, Leigh. It's Christmas Eve. What are you doing at home on the couch drinking whisky, sitting by that pathetic excuse for a Christmas tree, and watching the worst movie ever made?"