Christmas with Louise
As a joke, my brother Jay used to hang a pair of
panty hose over his
fireplace before Christmas. He said all he wanted
was for Santa to fill
them. What they say about Santa checking the list
twice must be true
because every Christmas morning, although Jay's
kids' stockings
overflowed, his poor pantyhose hung sadly empty.
One year I decided to make his dream come true. I
put on sunglasses
and went in search of an inflatable doll. They don't
sell those things
at Wal-Mart. I had to go to an adult bookstore
downtown.
If you've never been in an X-rated store, don't go.
You'll only
confuse yourself. I was there an hour saying things
like, "What does
this do?" "You're kidding me!" "Who would buy that?"
Finally, I made it
to the inflatable doll section.
Finding what I wanted was difficult. "Love Dolls"
come in many
different models. The top of the line, according to
the side of the box,
could do things I'd only seen in a book o n animal
husbandry. I settled
for "Lovable Louise." She was at the bottom of the
price scale.
On Christmas Eve and with the help of an old bicycle
pump, Louise
came to life.
My sister-in-law was in on the plan and let me in
during the wee
morning hours. Long after Santa had come and gone, I
filled the dangling
pantyhose with Louise's pliant legs and bottom. I
also ate some cookies
and drank a glass of milk on a nearby tray. I went
home
and giggled for a couple of hours.
The next morning my brother called to say that Santa
had been to his
house and left a present that had made him VERY
happy but had left the
dog confused. She would bark, start to walk away,
then come back and
bark some more.
We all agreed that Louise should remain in her panty
hose so the rest
of the family could admire her when they came over
for the traditional
Christmas dinner.
My grandmother noticed Louise the moment she walked
in the door.
"What the hell is that?" she asked.
My brother quickly explained, "It's a doll."
"Who would play with something like that?" Granny
snapped.
I kept my mouth shut.
"Where are her clothes?" Granny continued.
"Boy, that turkey sure smells nice, Gran," Jay said,
steering her
into dining room.
But Granny was relentless. "Why doesn't she have any
teeth?"
Again, I could have answered, but why would I? It
was Christmas and
no one wanted to ride in the back of the ambulance
saying, "Hang on
Granny, hang on!"
My grandfather, a delightful old man with poor
eyesight, sidled up to
me and said, " Hey, who's the naked gal by the
fireplace?"
I told him she was Jay's friend.
A few minutes later I noticed Grandpa by the mantel,
talking to
Louise. Not just talking, but actually flirting. It
was then that we
realized this might be Grandpa's last Christmas at
home.
The dinner went well. We made the usual small talk
about who had
died, who was dying, and who should be killed, when
suddenly Louise made
a noise like my father in the bathroom in the
morning. Then she lurched
from the mantel, flew around the room twice, and
fell in a heap in front
of the sofa. The cat screamed. I passed cranberry
sauce through my nose,
and Grandpa ran across the room, fell to his knees,
and began
administering mouth-to-mouth resuscitation.
My brother fell back over in his chair and wet his
pants.
Granny threw down her napkin, stomped out of the
room, and sat in the car.
It was indeed a Christmas to treasure and remember.
Later in my brother's garage, we conducted a
thorough examination to
decide the cause of Louise's collapse. We discovered
that Louise had
suffered from a hot ember to the back of her right
thigh.
Fortunately, thanks to a wonder drug called duct
tape, we restored
her to perfect health.
I can't wait until next Christmas