The Christmas Lights Story

I put up my one lame row of green C9 lights today, just to keep my wife from complaining about it. No one will be able to see them anyway, since my neighbor across the street has one of those displays that messes up planes on approach to LAX.

And when I say I put them up, I mean I held the ladder while my teenage son put them up.

 

I was ready the second time the ladder fell over.
The first time, I was on a low step, so it only fell on me. The second time, I was all the way up and bailed, gracefully, landing on a shrubbery that I'd already decorated, mashing a new bulbs and necessitating another trip to the Light Place, where the pimply cashier said, "Been here a lot today."
Bite me, I explained.
I also managed to discover, in the depths of the Really Big Shrub, three strings of lights from Christmas Past, each of them gnawed through in the middle. I took this as a warning from the squirrels, the way Indians used to rig up carcasses to ward off their enemies. Hah, said I, chew on these LEDs, bad boys. (They know who cut down the branches they used to use to access the roof. They know, believe me, not to mess with the king of the pole saw.) To answer RM's question, the Really Big Shrub is at the far left as you look at the house, but it's at the corner, so it's the only thing you can see coming up one street. In addition, I went Times Square with the mesh-lights this year, so there's no attention being drawn.
Oh, and I broke the arms off a ceramic frog that was out in the garden because I put one leg of the ladder down on it.
They seem to be all working at the moment.

 

You deserve a beer, Fenian.

 

When he went to the Light Place the squirrels broke in and stole it all.

 

They're all drunk so I stole their shoes.

 

Ok. That one got me...
I was laughing aloud.

 

I'm dreading having to get up on the ladder tomorrow and put up those overrated icicle lights, but I know my one year old will get a kick out of it. And I need fill out my curse word quota for the week.

 

I'd loan you some, but the bastard squirrels got the last of mine.

 

I hate those goddamn icicles. One bad light, and you lose half a strand. I'm out of the icicle business for good. Let a squirrel chomp into a C9 wire. Fry the little bastard.

 

Squirrels have insulated teeth. They eat electricity. It makes them powerful.
I do not welcome our rodent overlords.

 

I think I'm going to treat my fake Christmas tree like a menorah and put it together over 9 days. That's how many stacks of fake limbs I have to stick in.

I did the center pole and the bottom row of limbs, and my lower back is already killing me.

I need a beer, and it's fucking Sunday morning in Texas. Not one in sight.

 

Lupe drove slowly past the house, the memories beginning to ooze like guacamole on the Christmas ham.

The man on the ladder...was it him? There had been children here once. Now there were squirrels.

The santa on the lawn...was he watching her? Did he know? What happened in that house, she could never forget. She peered toward the window, where the kitchen would have been. Ah, that kitchen. So much sangria.