God damn it! I can’t find my add medication. And if one more person calls it A.D.D, I’m going to mother-fucking flip a sister. How the hell am I supposed to plan a Christmas party if…ooh, shiny. If that keeps happening?!

Okay, okay. Focus, Kevin. I am determined. This is going to be the best Christmas party ever. I’m going to decorate everything real nice. Yupp. There’s going to be music and food and dancing and…grinding on the dance floor with Wil. Oh my.

Cute little Wil. My love-muffin. My love-doodle. My cute little Asian love-muffin-doodle. No, you can’t touch him. Only I can touch him. And grind him on the dance floor. I’m planning a Christmas party and Wil is going to be there, if you haven’t caught that by now.

Gosh! I totally forgot to introduce myself. Oh, how rude of me. My name is Kevin. That’s Kev to you. Christmas is my absolute most favorite time of the year. Right after Halloween but that’s only because I can dress like a slut and no one can say anything! That’s a lesson I learned from Mean Girls. I’ve been described as “that sexy boy over there”, “that nice piece of ass I’d like to tap” and “mm-mm, I’d like him in my stocking”; but for the most part, people get the hint that I’m a tad bit on the flamboyant side. That, and I’m taken by the love of my life, William. I think I did a pretty good job at describing him, yeah? Let’s recap. “My love-muffin”…“little Asian”…“doodle”. That pretty much sums it up. But if you haven’t quite gotten it, this will be Wil’s first Christmas in America. Come to think of it, this will be my first Christmas in America too. But Christmas is pretty big in France, where I come from. Haha, that sounds like I came from the mother-ship or something. Attention earthlings, I come in peace. Sexy peace.

Wow, I got distracted. So, Christmas was pretty big in France. We were always in the holiday spirit. But apparently, the holiday spirit here doesn’t involve a bottle of lube and a nice warm bed. And a nice warm boy. Although I’m trying to bring that tradition back. Like I said, this is Wil’s first Christmas here too since he moved from Japan. I don’t really think they celebrate it in Japan. And that’s just weird to me. So my sole mission this holiday will be sharing the holiday cheer with none other than my love-muffin-doodle. Since he obviously doesn’t know, I must show him the true meaning of Christmas.

I’m excited. Mhmm, yupp. I wonder what I’m going to wear! Everything has to be perfect. I have to find the cutest little outfit. Oh my god. This one year, back in France, I bought this really sexy lingerie thing that I guess was for girls but looked so much better on me. It was like red velvet and had snowy type feather things and it said “Sex me Santa” on the ass. I looked damn good. Maybe I’ll wear that. But then again, that’s so like three years ago.

Oh yeah, decorating. An ornament here, some garland there. Wrap some tinsel around the tree. Unwrap tinsel from around self. Fucking tinsel attacked me. That shit has a mind of its own. Did I mention Christmas was my favorite time of the year? I think I did, but you needed a reminder. Because you’re slow. Nah, I’m just kidding, you’re a smart one. I’d applaud you if I didn’t have so much decorating left to do. By the way, how did you get in my house? Well, while you’re here, you might as well make yourself useful and hang these lights from the mantle. Please and thank you.

Ding dong. “The witch is dead, the horrible witch of the…southwest has perished!” What? Excuse me for not knowing the lines. I haven’t seen that movie since I was like five, you know. That’s the doorbell! Oh my gosh, oh my gosh. How’s my hair? Do I look good? Haha, pshh. I look better than you. That was a dumb question. Just stand next to me when I open the door, okay? Yeah, right there.

The conveniently located peephole in the door reveals that it’s none other than Wil standing outside in the snow. Aww, he looks so cute in his oversized winter jacket. His cheeks are flushed a rosy red. A parcel grasped in his tiny, glove-clad hands. You know what they say about small hands! Small penis. Wait. That is what they say about small hands, right? They say that about Asians too. Wow, he’s got a two for one special going on. It’s not actually really small though, if you were wondering. Oh my god, he has a present! Is that for me!? How cuuuuuute!

“Kevin!”

Pop snaps me out of my daze. That’s not cool.

“Are you going to open the door for William?”

“Oh…” Damn my short attention span. Open the door, yeah. I glare at pop until he gets the hint and walks away.

Wil shivers as he steps inside. “Brr. It’s cold out there.” He walks right past me to the kitchen and puts his package (lawl, package) on the table. What kind of greeting was that? “Kev…”

I know that tone. That’s his “come here and get some” tone. I like that tone. It has to be one of my favorites, right after the seduction purr and husky growl. Hold on, how could I forget the low moans or muted whispers. “Kev!” Uh oh, now I’m in trouble.

“Yeah, babe?” Gotta run to the table to avoid punishment! He’s somehow already removed his gloves and jacket, discarding them possibly into oblivion. That boy is fast!

Ahem. Testing, testing. One, two, three. Can you hear me? Good. William is sporting a fabulous, grey V-neck sweater along with his signature so-tight-it’s-hard-not-to-grab-ass black jeans. His black Chuck Taylor’s are beginning to look a little ratty, but I mean, like, he wears those things every day so what do you expect? Wil has decidedly not straightened his hair today, probably because Kev says he likes it better that way. His brown curls shape his face nicely. Damn, I’m getting hot!

Thank you, announcer guy in my head. Now I know why I don’t let you out to play that often. You hit on my men!

My un-attention is once again broken by Wil removing a small cake from the box he brought and setting it on the counter. “A cake?”

“A fruitcake.” He responds with a wide grin.

“…a fruitcake?”

“A fruitcake for my fruitcake.”

Oh, thanks for making my brain sputter out and die. Wait…“Are you calling me a fruitcake!?”

Wil laughs a little. I don’t think it’s funny. Fruitcake is an insult. Isn’t it? I thought so. He stands up on tip toe and kisses my nose in what I like to think is an affectionate manner. What other manner is there for kissing one’s nose? I just melted a little inside.

“Wait, that’s not my present, is it?” Serious question. Because that would kind of suck if it was.

He smiles. “No, of course not. But you don’t get your present until tomorrow.” He states with just a hint of seduction in his tone.

Self-control broken. Before he knows it, or I do for that matter ‘cause it’s all just a subconscious thing really, he’s lifted off the ground in a big hug.

“Oomph.”

Inward giggle. Did you hear the noise he just made? You should, you were there. It’s not like I just made it up. I’m not crazy, you know. I just can’t find my add medication.

He’s spun around a few times until I start to get dizzy.

“Put me down, you jerk.” He says, not unkindly.

I oblige, but only because he’s my love-muffin. And because we might fall over if I continue. I take orders from no one. No one! Except Wil. No one else! Sometimes my mind commands me and I follow it, but only if I agree. There’s been a few times when it’s steered me wrong and now I just use my common sense. Sometimes.

Mmm, warm lips on mine. That’s a nice gesture. Tongue in my mouth, hands in my hair.

“Oh hi, Wil!”

Teeth collide painfully. Ow. No, no, no. No more warm lips. Why, god, why? Why do you hate me?

“Hi, Brenna.”

Well, that’s a fake smile if I ever did see one. At least my love-muffin is good at putting up these little façades. Me, not so much. I can feel the death glare coming on. My little sister lives to ruin moments like these. One day, one day I swear, I’ll…I’ll…

I'll turn her into a flea, a harmless, little flea, and then I'll put that flea in a box, and then I'll put that box inside of another box, and then I'll mail that box to myself, and when it arrives...I’ll smash it with a hammer!

Thank you, Yzma. God, I love that movie. The Emperor’s all, “Look at me, I’m like, so groovy. Can’t touch this.” And then Yzma’s like, “BAM. You’re a llama. I touched that.”

“Ha-ha, llama.” I chuckle.

Two sets of eyes on me. One set is rolling and the other is filled with amusement. You can guess who’s belongs to who. No seriously, guess. But that’s not really fair considering you’re still standing in my kitchen and can see them. Okay. Go outside for like two seconds so I can switch them up. Then you can guess.

No. Never mind. That’s way too much effort. Just go make me a sandwich or something.

“So what time does this party start?” Brenna asks.

“I don’t remember sending you an invite,” slips from my mouth before I can think about it. Or maybe my brain did the thinking already and ordered my mouth to say it. Dang, it’s quicker than I am! “Ow!” Elbow in my ribs. Not feel good.

“It starts at seven, sweetie.”

Wil obviously doesn’t see the pure evil in her smile as he returns it. I’ll get her, I swear. Maybe I’ll slip some pesticide in her drink. Pesticide ‘cause she’s such a little pest. Ooh, that’s a good one.

“Why don’t you swallow some pes-”

“Oh Kev, shut it.”

Gasp. He…he told me…shut up. Fine. I cross my arms across my chest because that creates the whole “you wounded me so I’m going to be cold to you now” appearance. If he doesn’t want me to talk, I won’t talk.

“How about you go get ready, huh?” Wil continues in a softer tone. He’s always so nice to my sister. His niceness should be reserved for me only. Don’t you agree?

“Okay!” Brenna skips out of the kitchen and up the stairs. The skipping of doom, that is.

“So, Kevin. Has the caterer come yet?”

“No, not yet.” Shit! There goes my vow of silence. Gotta save this. Pout! Pout like the wind.

“Aww, baby.”

Pouting worked!

“Call the caterer.”

Damn…pouting didn’t work as well as I would’ve liked. “Kay…” I pick up the phone, half realizing I don’t know the number but halfway to dialing some random keys anyways when Wil hands me a piece of paper with seven digits on it. “Thank you.” He knows me so well.

The dial tone turns into an annoying ringing sound which quickly turns into an annoying ding dong sound. It takes me a second or minute or two to realize the phone didn’t do that.

“Never mind, hun. I guess they’re here already.” He walks briskly towards the front door. Man, I was all ready to accomplish something too. Wil opens the door and allows a couple strangers in my house. I guess that’s not so strange considering you got in my house somehow too.

“Where should we set up?” One of the strange men, oh no wait, hot. Hotty. One of the hotty men asks. Woah! Check out those muscles. Pretty eyes too. I like this. I like this a lot. “Yoo-hoo?” My gaydar just did a back flip. What kind of straight man says "yoo-hoo"?

“Huh? Sorry. Dining room table.”

“Right…”

The boy shoulders past me to the dining room and signals for the other caterer people to follow him. He touched me, he touched me, na-na-na!

“Eeep!” Long arms encircle my waist as a body is pressed up flush against my back.

“Stop oogling the help, yeah?” Wil whispers in my ear.

“What? I so was not. What are you talking about? I don’t know what you’re talking about.” That was smooth.

Wil snickers and gives me a kiss on the ear. “You know, he’s going to be the DJ for our party.”

“Really?” Did that sound a little too eager? “I mean, so what. Who cares? It’s not a big deal.” Stop laughing at me! Why does he keep laughing?

“Good. I’ve got you trained.”

Normally, I’d refute such a statement but he kind of does.

“Now, come on. Help me move the couches to make room for the dance floor.”

Dance floor! The dance floor is where the grinding takes place. Off to make a dance floor!

Oh my god! It’s time for a new doorbell. That thing is driving me insane. A quick three-sixty degree check tells me everything is ready! The dining room table is full to bursting with turkey, ham, mashed potatoes, cranberry sauce, fruit, cookies, cake, pie and some green vegetable things I won’t be touching. Alcohol lines the countertops like a little piece of heaven. The house is decorated flawlessly, like a fricking Who house minus the Grinch at Christmastime. The sexy boy is mining the DJ table in the living room and Pop has vacated the premises for the evening, taking the devil named Brenna with him. Wil is primping himself in front of the hallway mirror.

I guess that leaves it to me to answer the door. Why is everything up to me?

Okay, deep breath. It’s just a few people from school. Nothing to be worried about. Nope. The doorbell rings again. “Just a second!” Boy, do I get distracted easily, or what? I rush to open the door and…is there a reason why the entire school body is standing on my front lawn?

“Hey, Kev, what’s up?” Some random guy I vaguely recognize asks as he steps through the front door, shoving a case of beer in my hands. “Nice place.”

“Erm, thanks.”

Another girl waves as she walks past me, gesturing what looks to be a catastrophe waiting to happen in the form of maybe a hundred people into my house.

“Wil…” I can hear my voice crack a little. That’s super attractive. “Uh, Wil. Wil!”

Wil magically appears by my side, like a ninja. I guess that’s his Japanese blood kicking in. You’d think his white half would slow him down a little, but no way.

“Holy…”

I guess that’s my clue he didn’t know this was happening either. Pop is gonna kill me! Eh, might as well get drunk then. I rip open the beer case, and lookie here. Still cold!

“No, no, bad! Put the beer down!”

I nearly drop the case at my boyfriend’s tone, managing to just catch it and place it on the ground. “What?” The music starts pumping loudly as apparently the party has started. “Why?” I yell over the music.

“You’re the host! You get to stay sober.” He replies calmly, grabbing a beer for himself.

I try my hardest not to sputter or gape or do something of the sort. I think I failed though. Wil takes a swig of his beverage of very low alcohol content and gives me a smile. A smug smile.

I am sad.

Un. Deux. Trois. I break into a run towards the kitchen to grab at the vodka. Ha-ha, element of surprise! I stop just short of the counter as Wil again magically appears in front of me. He’s speedy! Scratch that, I actually run right into him, pushing him back up against it. Hey, this isn’t so bad anyways. If I can’t have alcohol, might as well get drunk on something else.

“Hello.” I say innocently. As innocent as I get anyways.

“‘Sup.”

“You are.” He’s lifted quite easily onto the counter top with a surprised noise. “See. You’re up now.” No, I don’t point out the obvious. That often.

Wil raises one eyebrow. That’s something I never managed to accomplish. I used to try in front of the mirror but I’d just end up looking stupid. Not that I can look stupid. Just looking a little silly. And then I’d get frustrated, throw something and walk away. And then walk back a few minutes later with my shirt off. Hey, the mirror never complained.

Ugh! What am I doing discussing mirrors with you when I could be snogging!? Just for the record, I never made out with a mirror either. Okay. Maybe that one time. But I was on like acid or something and my reflection seduced me.

Yay! My body takes initiative before my mind decides to and our lips are finally reunited. My tongue nudges his lips apart and thoroughly sweeps the inside of his mouth, exploring for a good minute or two before I’m pushed back.

“Isn’t it a little early in the party,” he pants, “to already be making out? I mean, it just started.”

I ponder this for a second with my pondering face. I’m thinking hard for an elaborate, justified answer. “Nope!” He’s obviously not satisfied with this. “The party started when you got here! And technically, I’ve already gotten you a drink,”, which you swiped from me, “bought you dinner,”, which you swiped from the table, “and brought you entertainment in the form of a certain DJ.” Which you…also swiped from me. “I think I deserve a little kiss.”

“Do you now?”

Nod, nod. Excessive nodding ensues at this point.

“Alright then.”

Oh my god, I win! Kiss me, you fool! What is that line from? Some epic drama movie, yeah?

Crash.

Sigh. Is everyone trying to keep me from having a tongue in my mouth today? Seriously. What is going on?

Wil hops down from the counter and takes my hand, quickly leading me to the main hall to find out what that big ass noise was. I think that’s what he was doing anyhow. I’m not a mind reader.

Oh, sweet. Some guys already got into a fight in the middle of the dance floor. Looking around, there’s no broken glass or…anything else. Might as well enjoy the show. “Take your tops off!” Of course, no one does. That was a nice punch.

Hey look! Blood! El-oh-el. Blood…on…my floor.

“Stop! You bitches, break it up. My dad’ll fucking kill me, you assholes!” I make my way to the center of the crowd somehow. That was actually quite a feat. Did you see how many people I just pushed through? Impressive, no?

I push the two boys apart. “This is so not cool, you guys. You got blood on my floor.” One of them is still trying to lunge at the other, amusingly enough. And, are you ready for this? Bitch-slap. He stumbles backwards into the crowd. “Not in my house!”

Someone’s waving at me, I think. Or so I see out of the corner of my eye. I’m a pretty polite person so I turn to look. “Oh hey, Johnny! How’s it going?”

“Pretty good, pretty good. Nice party so far. Oh shit, look out…”

I duck just in time as the one boy takes a swing at me. Oh my god. At my face. He went for my face. That bitch! Okay, now I’m pissed. There’s one big gasp escalating through the crowd as I tackle the asshole to the floor. “You don’t fucking touch my face!” I scream as I pin his arms down. Woah, I must sound pretty maniac right about now.

My fist collides with his nose, making a sickening sort of crunchy noise. Like a tiger chewing on the bones of a…ha-ha, llama. This is no time for jokes! His face meets my fists a few more times before Wil’s voice breaks over the excited noises from the crowd.

“Kev! Stop it!” He yells.

“Egh, blurgh, nyeh…” The boy mumbles. I can’t help but laugh at that. Up until I notice there’s more blood on my floor. And he just keeps dripping on it! This is fucked up. Were all Christmas parties in America like this? I lift the boy up by his collar, raising the hem of his shirt to his nose to keep it from messing up my house anymore.

“Motherfucker, stop bleeding!” He sways a little when I let go of him, nearly falling back into the arms of some girl standing in the circle the crowd has created around us. Wait, wait. I totally can’t resist this. Miss a chance to add insult to injury? Never. I wet one finger before thrusting it into the boy’s ear. “Wet willie!” I exclaim with what can only be perceived as childish joy. I’m not childish though. If anything, that was vaguely sexual. Which I am much of. Sexual.

“Kevin!”

I shrink back. Wil is scolding me. That’s bad. I raise my arms in defeat, signaling I won’t touch him anymore. Not in any way, promise! “Okay, okay. I’m done.” The crowd starts…applauding? Holy crap, that’s awesome. I just got a ring of applause. “And yeah, you,” I start, signaling the dazed, bleeding boy to listen, “clean up the mess you made. Don’t want anyone slipping and hurting themselves in your bodily fluids. That’s just gross.”

The music is still playing loudly, switching to a Mindless Self Indulgence song. Our school peers turn away, bored with the scene already, hopping up and down to Jimmy’s whiny, slightly annoying, piercing voice as it beats it’s way into every orifice of my house.

Dance floor grinding time now? I think it definitely is! I turn to Wil with a smile. He’s not smiling back.

Holy shit!

“Oh, come on, baby, let’s dance!”

He shakes his head with a frown, but there’s a little sparkle in his eyes. I know he liked that fight. Yeah. He knows I’m dominant. Yupp. I give his ass just a little pat and, there we go, there’s a smile! He rolls his eyes as I grab his hands, moving in time with the music.

I’m fine, then I die – holy shit!

I’m flying so high – holy shit!

Dude, MSI is so profound. I spin Wil around and press up against his back, fanning my hands down his thighs.

I’m right ‘cause I’m blind – holy shit!

I’m blind ‘cause I’m dying – holy shit!

Mm. He presses back against me, swinging his hips to the beat. This is nice. And I’m not even drunk. This is one whacked ass holiday.

I’m fine, how are you? Holy shit!

I’m fine, because I’m high. Holy shit!

Getting high sounds pretty good right about now. But Pop won’t let me keep weed in the house since we got to America. Oh, dang! Wil presses his ass right into my groin. Have I told you lately just how much I love my boyfriend?

This has to be one of the meanings of Christmas. Christmas parties. With Christmas party grinding and Christmas party Mindless Self Indulgence. I just had a revelation! And a band promotion ramble. Yes, this definitely is a good meaning of Christmas.

Wil raises his hands to wrap backwards around my neck, his back still pressed up against my chest. In turn, I wrap my arms around his stomach, adrenaline coursing through my body. I should have parties more often. You know, if this one doesn’t end up a total disaster from assholes bleeding on my floor! Which totally wasn’t my fault by the way.

Wait, wait, woah. Mood change. If that DJ wasn’t such a hotty, I’d fire him. How the hell do you go from MSI to…to…is this Leann Rimes? I haven’t heard this song since I was just a little French boy. Oh, fuck no. Slow dance time, already?

The crowd separates into couples. Male-female couples, female-female couples, male-male couples, male-transman couples, nerd-hotty couples. That’s weird. That last one. How did that nerd end up with that chick? I feel like I’m at a dumb high school dance. We’re not supposed to be having slow dances at a Christmas party!

Well, for the sake of Christmas. Wil sighs as he turns around to face me. “This DJ sucks.”

“Agreed.” I agree, placing my hands on his hips to pull him close. He crosses his arms back around my neck, nearly having to stand on tip toe to rest his head on my shoulder. He smells good. Like vanilla and uh…hair products. Do they sell vanilla hair products? If they do, he’s definitely using it. And it works. “Hey, Wil.”

“Hmm?”

“How did I live without you? How did I breathe without you?” I joke, mimicking this stupid song.

“Must have been fucking hard.” He teases back.

“Oh, it was. It was.”

He turns his head and gives me a soft kiss on the cheek. “Love you.” He whispers in my ear. Oh my gosh, oh my gosh. He’s so cute.

“Love you, too.” We sway together, and I don’t know about him, but I’m suddenly grateful for the stupid DJ. Slow songs are good. But no more after this.

Caaaan you feel, the love tonight? Lalala.

Shut up announcer guy. You’re ruining my moment. Finally, the song ends and we can take a bit of a breather. I rub my hands off on my jeans. Sweaty hands are not attractive. Stupid Wil and his making me sweat. Stop being so cute and sweet and hot and…Asian.

Phew! I could use a drink. Just a Cola or something. Maybe with a little rum. “Can I get you a drink?” I ask sweetly, inwardly applauding my ingeniousness. That was a lot of big words.

“No.” He sees right though me. “But I can get you one.”

Ugh! He knows! He knows me too well! Time for one of those Men in Black ambiguity pens that erase memory. We have to start from scratch. I have to be more mysterious!

“Come on.” He takes my hand and starts weaving through the mass of our student body when the sexy DJ takes the microphone and starts speaking.

“Hello, hello! How are we all doing tonight?” Non-excited murmurs. “Come on, bitches!” A few excited murmurs from the bitches in the crowd. “And hoes!” A couple cheers from the hoes. “Fags and hags! Dykes with bikes! Trannies with fannies! And you loser straight people. Can I get a what, what!?”

“What, what!” Screams the crowd. Holy shit. This guy is like my twin. My less sexy but equally…no. No one can be my twin because my amazingness far surpasses anyone else’s. But this guy could be a good apprentice.

“Now that I have your attention, I’d like to direct it elsewhere. To the hostess with the mostess…”

Hehe, that’s me!

“…the boy who put this whole shebang together…”

Is that a Velvet Goldmine reference? I’m impressed.

“…William Evans!”

“What, what!?” That’s not right! I’m the host! This is my house!

“And his boyfriend, Kevin Sommers.” Well, okay then.

Wil turns and gives me a weak smile. It says, “please don’t beat him up”. Fine. But just because he asked nicely.

I take Wil’s small hand and watch as the crowd parts like the cowardly Red Sea when Moses approaches. I march up to the front and snatch the microphone from the boy’s hand. I decided I’m not happy with him anymore.

“Thank you!” I exclaim with all the forced joy in the world. “…bitch.” I add under my breath. Wil kicks my foot. Ouchies. I take a lot of abuse, huh? “I’m Kev, if you somehow don’t know that. So that would make this one,” I smoothly put an arm around Wil’s shoulders, “Wil. I hope you’re all enjoying the party so far, with the exception of the little mishap earlier on the dance floor. Where is that guy by the way?” A hundred hands rise in unison and point to the kitchen where the battered boy is holding a rag to his nose. “Oh. Sweet.”

Wil rolls his eyes and takes the microphone from my hand. That’s not very nice. At least ask nicely. “Merry Christmas Eve, everybody. Thank you for coming out, and feel free to take advantage of the alcohol and food in the kitchen. It’s there for a reason.” Oh yeah, sure. They can take advantage of it, but I can’t. I grab the microphone back.

“Yeah, yeah! Like my mum used to say: ‘Bon repas doit commencer par la faim.’ That’s French, you know! Because I’m French. So my mum used to talk in French. It means something like ‘A good meal must begin with hunger’. I never really understood it but…I’m hungry and I’m sure you’re hungry too. So there’s food. And you can eat the food if you’re hungry. Dude, I’m really hungry. Wil! Let’s get food!”

The mike is taken from my hands once again. Why does this keep happening to me? Am I not good enough to hold a microphone? I’m quite capable of making a speech, you know.

“Excuse him, he hasn’t taken his meds today.”

Oh thanks, Wil. Announce to the world that I’m a basket case.

“We’ll get out of your hair now and let the music resume. Hope you have a great time!”

I guess Wil is a better speech maker than me. That’s why we’re perfect for each other. He completes me. Yeah. “Food?”

Wil smiles. I love it when Wil smiles. It makes my stomach do a weird flippy thing that I assume is good. “Sure.” Yay, food!

“Piggy back?”

“Duh!” He wastes no time hopping on…oh my god. Get your head out of the gutter. We’re just getting food now. Jeez, you can wait for porn. Impatient, much?

We piggy back to the food table where there’s already a massive amount of people crowding around. Good thing the caterers also cater to the fucking army. Or I presume they do considering we have enough food to feed one. “Make room, hostess’ coming through. Hostess’ want food now, please. Thank you.”

I put Wil back down on his feet and grab two plates. This is going to be a feast! Do you see this table? There’s so much food on it! You can eat too, if you want to. But you have to get in line with everyone else. I’m not giving you special treatment just because you snuck into my house.

In a little under thirty seconds, my plate is piled high with turkey and mashed potatoes and gravy and pie and cranberry sauce and a couple cookies. Wil’s has some green stuff on it and some mashed potatoes. What the hell. This is Christmas! Eat skinny boy, eat!

Wil eyes my plate. “Day-um! I don’t understand how you can eat so much and stay stick-skinny!” He exclaims.

“I don’t know how you can eat so little and still be living!” I retort. I think I won that one. He laughs, brushing off the statement and stealing a chair.

That’s okay. I’ll stand. Helps the digestive process anyways. I inhale my food, finishing it off in record time. I always make a little bet with myself. How fast can I eat? Can I finish before myself thinks I can? I always win. Especially on Christmas.

I got it! Another meaning of Christmas. Christmas food. The feast. That’s most definitely one of the perks of this holiday. See, I’m sharing the holiday spirit. I provided food! Ho-ho-ho! I am a saint. A less hairy, fat, smelly, red saint.

Wil has barely gotten through one asparagus looking thing. Such a dainty little eater. Taking his sweet time. Sigh. What am I supposed to do? The alcohol counter is looking pretty enticing. “Can I get a teensy weensy little drink now?” I plead.

He shrugs. “Fine. Just don’t get drunk.”

“Yay!” Happy clap time. I skip over to the counter. What have we here? Vodka, gin, rum, scotch, brandy, whiskey, tequila...I swear I had only set out a few things. People are generous! The thought only just now occurs to me that getting a bunch of high school kids drunk is maybe not the best idea. Not when it’s in my house and they can fuck it up. Oh well. Fun now, consequences later.

I mix myself a drink with a little of everything, enjoying the sweet melody of Cinema Bizarre in the background. So the DJ has some good music tastes. I’ll give him credit for that. He doesn’t know Christmas music at all but at least he isn’t ruining the party with “Deck the Halls with Your Balls of Joy” or some nonsense.

Aah, I love that burning feeling alcohol leaves you with as it courses through your system. Nice and warm. And invincible. Like you can do anything and people will worship you for it. Oh hey, they do that anyways. But a drink makes it more fun. Or a few drinks. Bow to me!

I mix Wil a drink too because that’s the polite thing to do. And I am a polite person. But you already know this. Because you’re stalking me or something. Seriously, like every time I turn around, you’re right there. I don’t know what to make of this. I’m just going to take it as a form of flattery because I know how amazing you think I am.

“Here, baby. I made you something.”

Wil takes the drink, sniffing it and then setting it on the counter next to him. “Thanks…I’ll, uh, get to that later.”

“Okay! I’m going to get another drink.” Ow, hand kneaded into the back of my shirt, pulling hard.

“No, no. How many times do I have to tell you? No getting drunk, Kev. What would your mother say?”

What? Mother? “She wouldn’t say anything because she’s dead!” That’s right. He went there. So I went there. I cross my arms again, creating that whole wounded look. Trap set. I am an evil genius.

Wil hops down from his stool, placing his plate on the counter. He gives me a timid hug, nuzzling his head into my neck. “I’m sorry, Kev. You know I didn’t mean it like that.” I smile a sly smile because he can’t see me because his head is in my neck. “You can get another drink if you want it.”

Yes! See, I always get what I want. I do feel a little bad about playing the mom card though. But I swear, I only play it when he plays it first! Which is not often because it ends up in me getting what I want. But it also means I feel bad about getting what I want because I play the dead mom card. Ugh, inner turmoil! “I’d settle for a kiss.” See, I can compromise. If my baby doesn’t want me to drink because it would get all deformed and sprout a leg out of its forehead, I won’t do it. And if Wil doesn’t want me to either, I won’t.

“Aww.”

Finally! No interruptions! Don’t even think about starting a fight or announcing something or getting food. Not when I finally get the chance.

Mm, tongue in my mouth, hands in my hair, body against mine.

Vomit at my feet.

Ew, ew, ew! I jump back, pulling Wil back with me as some douchebag vomits all over the floor. “Shit, bitch! It couldn’t have waited two seconds?!” Another moment ruined. The sucker collapses in a heap on the floor, head nearly missing the puddle of, ugh, more bodily fluids. I hate bodily fluids! Blood, sweat, and vomit. All of these substances are in my house right now and I don’t like this one bit. “I hope you’re going to clean that up!” I can hear myself yelling at the unconscious body at my feet.

I guess people really have been getting into the alcohol. But how many of them? Oh boy.

I drag Wil past the bastard who ruined yet another perfect Christmas moment to take a look at the population encompassing the dance floor. Yupp, they definitely look drunk. Limbs flailing, bodies being thrown around in what appears to be some kind of drunken mosh pit. Fuck! Fuck my life. I have over a hundred drunken teenagers moshing around in my perfectly decorated house. They better not mess it up!

In the matter of time it took me survey the damage and turn back around, some drunk guy is already standing at Wil’s side.

“What do…ugh, what do,” he stutters, steadying himself with one hand on Wil’s shoulder, “…what do polar bears do because of global warming?”

“Um, I have no idea.” Wil answers, shooting me a pleading look.

“They break the ice – hey, how you doin?” He says with a wink.

Oh no, he doesn’t! That’s my pick up line! I’m gonna beat the little bugger until he bleeds from every orifice. I advance on him like a tiger on a llama. Wil shrugs out of his grasp before I get there and lets him slump back against the wall, eyes glazing over. He puts two hands up on my chest before I can put a fist in the boy’s. “Not necessary, babe. He’s drunk.”

“No shit! And he’s gonna get pulverized.”

“Banana hammock.”

My body breaks into a laughing fit. A horrible fit of laughter in which my knees buckle and I have to grab onto my love-muffin-doodle for support. “You said…ha-ha, banana hammock!” He’s so good at feeding my add. My body doesn’t realize his diversion tactic but my mind does, eventually. He’s so good at that.

“We’re off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz!”

Huh? The entire party turns towards the staircase to see a group of drunken boys marching down the stairs with…“Hey! That’s my toilet paper!”

“We hear he is a wiz of a wiz, if ever a wiz there was.” They chant, almost in unison if it wasn’t for the drunken slur of their words.

“I’m serious you guys! What are you doing with that?”

“If ever, oh ever, a wiz there was, the Wizard of Oz is one because…”

The because’s are cut off as one of the boys trips and stumbles half way down the stairs, much to the rest of the drunken parties, and my amusement. Unless he cracks his skull and gets more blood in my house! Then I will not be amused!

No, he’s up. And he’s okay! Ten points and a bronze medal!

“What the hell?” Wil whispers to me.

“How should I know?”

One of the boy’s tears open a pack of toilet paper, and wouldn’t you know it, throws it straight at my perfectly decorated Christmas tree. The fucker! The fuckers are TPing my house!

“I’ll kill you!” Believe it or not, that’s not an empty threat. I killed a cat once. It was on accident of course. I was just learning to drive. But I killed the motherfucker! Okay, seriously, these bitches are pushing me past the limit. Do you even know how long I spent decorating? Oh, you do, huh. Because you were there. Did I ever thank you for helping me out by the way? Ugh, stop distracting me!

“Stop TPing shit!” Normally I’d marvel at the fact that I just made a ridiculous pun, but I’m a little pissed off.

Okay Mr. DJ. Time to make another announcement. I kill the music by pulling the cord out of the wall which may not have been the smartest move but whatever. You know I’m not the smartest person. No wait, you never heard me say that. Shhh. “Alright! Party over!” I yell into my recently stolen microphone. “Get out of my house.”

No one moves to take a step. “Now or I’ll fucking kill all you motherfuckers by killing you!” I think everyone’s all still a little too drunk to comprehend my threatening.

“Okay, if you don’t get out of my house in the next thirty seconds, I’ll go Johnny the Homicidal Maniac on your ass!”

They all seemed to get that as my house is vacated within the next few moments.

“Thanks for coming!” I add, with a little wave and happy grin.

“Smooth Kev, real smooth.” Wil says as he walks up besides me, kicking a discarded beer bottle near his feet.

“Was that a little rude?” I thought it was rather polite, actually. I even waved.

“Just a little.” He says, smiling. “But at least we’re alone now.”

Wow, I didn’t even think about that. “My sentiments exactly.” I croon. Faking is my strong point. “And now that we are…”

He gets the hint immediately. Or maybe he already had the hint and I had confirmed it? Either way, warm lips against mine, tongue in my mouth, hands in my hair. I sigh, content and happy. Finally. Absolutely no interruptions.

He pulls back, damn it! "You know what time it is?" he asks me.

I pause. "No. Is this going to lead to some Asian joke I probably won't get?"

He laughs. "No. It's midnight, which means I can give you my present."

I jump up and down and clap. "Whee! Presents! Hand 'em over!" I hold out my hands, grinning.

He steps close, his eyes dark. And then he kisses me so strongly my knees quiver. "You have to unwrap it," Wil whispers.

Oo, a kinky one he is! I pull him close, wrapping my arms around him, kissing him deeply.

I got it! I think I got it! The meaning of Christmas! It’s not grinding on the dance floor or a holiday feast or presents or lights or decorations.

Wil moans lightly, sucking my bottom lip between his teeth.

Not parties or TPing Christmas trees or threatening people with Jhonen Vasquez horror.

He pushes me back against the couch and we tumble down together.

It’s not even about sex. Which I thought for damn sure was the purpose of this holiday.

No, no, it’s about…eh, I’ll let you know when I’m finished here.