The Sweetest House: Yuletide [Draft]

Well the fire is slowly dyin' plays softly from an aging speaker over the vigorous snapping of a small fire.

Candlelight fills most of the small living room, but the warmth of a fire and loved ones together, fills the room with a soft golden glow nonetheless.

Speaking frankly and without golden goggles though, the fire was rather pitiful to see. Something of which had been slowly, steadily, gnawing at the only one of the three not tending the fire for some time now.

As the clock drew closer to Christmas day, she spoke. “Curious, but okay.”

Without turning his head, the fire keep mumbled, “Whaddoya mean by that?” Completely focused on poking at the flames with the poker irritably, unable to coax the orange lights into growing higher than the whimpering embers and sleeping ash in the fireplace.

“Nothing, just wondering what the non-girl scout is doing playing pretend outdoorsman with the fire.”

“Ah-” That's what it was. He shrugged. He'd won the game of spades to tend the flame fair and square, and he was gonna play with the fire for once if it killed him. He just needed to know the trick to it.

“Just curious is al-”

“Ah-shit!”

Jamie cut her eyes at the man, now sucking on his burned fingers, with the kind of conceited smirk that ought only be possible to be delivered by a cat. “Oh no, baby. Your fing-ies.” She said, saccharine.

[Jason] stared back, caught somewhere between a pout and indignance, before he rolled his eyes and stood up. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna ice ‘em. You wanna take over the fire Ja-”

“-Sure!” Locs streaming like a victory flag, the amazon vaulted over the couch and sailed to a stop in front of the fireplace, promptly scooping up the hot poker and tongs like a child with a new toy. “I was wondering when you’d ask.”

“Wiseass.” [Mason] stuck his tongue out, and Jamie responded in kind, going a step further by tugging on her bottom lid.

Watching from the couch and nestled behind a book, [Ketsa] snickered.

“An’ what’re you laughing about?”

“Nothing, just you two dweebs.”

[Jason]’s face became a bowl of soured milk on cold cereal. “Dweeebs?” He dragged out the word like a child or a middle aged man holding up a vegetable their parents never made them eat as a kid. “Who the fuck says ‘dweeb’? You sound like fucking millenial.”

“Dweeb is not a millenial word! That’s like… Gen X’er at best.” [Ketsa] shot back.

“No no, that’s like Mean Girls 2000’s era shit- dweeeeb” Mason dragged the word out again. “You owe me an apology for subjecting me to that trauma.” “Wha- Trauma?”

“Yes! Trauma, for assaulting me with that early 2000’s cringe bullshit.” He waved his burnt fingers in front of [Ketsa]’s face. “I’m nursing a serious injury so I’m delicate.”

This sent both bottoms into a round of giggles.

“Curly and Moe! ” Jamie, the 35 year old, snapped. “I am still in the room!”

More raucous laughter erupted from the pair at this, eliciting a snort of further annoyance from Jamie, put out by the teasing.

Now with tears pricking her eyes, Ketsa said, “No no no, babe she’s right. We have to respect our elders.”

"Oh yes right of course, our wise old elders must be protected from harm or slights against their ever growing and vastly ancient pool of knowled-"

"Bitch, I am literally five years older than you. Shut up. Go put some ice on those roasted sausages instead of sucking on em' like a baby."

“Hey! I’ve got a serious injury here!” Mason thrust his hand out with another pout, then wiggled his two -barely first degree burns- extravagantly daintily for added effect.

“Then go soak them in an iced towel and quit moaning about it.”

[Ketsa] snickered again. “You can soak things in a towel?”

“Must be her dementia setting in, what a sad, terrible, horrible, soulfully egregious fate for our darling sweet littl-”

“GIT!” Jamie roared, finally turning around to throw a twig at the man.

“Aiie! I’m too hot to be throwing those coals at, we’ll spark and set the house on fire!”

This drew a snort and an indignant frown from Jamie while she tried to hold back the smile brimming on her lips. When [Mason] started to open his mouth again though, she raised a fistful of twigs/firewood as a warning, and the man stuck out his tongue and skittered away.

“Hmph.”

Now with [Mason] gone, [Ketsa] was without material, and so they tried to catch their breath again while the girl scout turned back around to her flames. Then, it was quiet for a moment. Just as they managed to pick back up their book again, tragedy struck.

“Hooligans.”

Immediately, naturally, of course; [Ketsa] died.

Jamie, their unwitting killer, turned around to see what had wrought such terrifying -and cacophonous- devastation. “Oh, now what?”

“N-nothing, just the ever present march of time and your aging mi-”

“Right- that’s it-”

Check out the final draft on New Years. Merry Xmas

Gods this has taken so long it's not funny. My Apologies. Expect a happy polycule by the end of this month. Maybe by Christmas if you're lucky.