My Cardboard Balcony

by Belinda Roddie Here's how I got nicknamed Plague Nog. It happened on Christmas Eve, when I was babysitting Mister and Missus Norris's nine-year-old and six-year-old daughters. They were little rascals, those two - bouncy, hyper, always plotting, always mischievous. In a good way, of course. Together, we planned escape routes from the house in case of invading zombies or pirates. Sometimes they would dress up as royalty and expect me to do their bidding, until I of course told them I outranked them. "We're queens!" they'd protest. "You can't be above a queen!" "I can if I'm a supreme overlord," I'd reply, and that would be the end of the debate. Jenna and Tiffany, the oldest and youngest respectively, adored Christmas. And their parents allowed the holiday to be as much of a free-for-all as possible. The girls chose the tree, decorated it as they saw fit, and always came up with new ideas for ornaments and stringi...

It was almost Christmas, and the children were all gathered in the living room, dressed head to toe in reds and greens, their hands shivering beneath large books of carols and hymns. I, their well-dressed conductor, was ready to take them out into the chilly night, so that they could comfort their equally chilly neighbors with beautiful holiday songs and jingles. I pulled on my fur cap, cleared my throat, and beckoned the group toward the door.

So, today is Christmas Eve Eve. I'm at my in-laws' house, and together, we've had a lovely dinner, made little wreath ornaments out of pipe cleaners, and watched TV and a Gabriel Iglesias comedy special. I really do want to make this introspection warm and fuzzy, talking about what I love about Christmas and how grateful I am to celebrate it with my wife and her family. And it's going to be a great few days! Christmas Eve is tomorrow, and we'll be also celebrating the first night of Hanukkah. So there'll be cookies to decorate, latkes to eat, dreidels to spin, and Cards Against Humanity to play. And then Christmas: After presents, it's time for a hike, dinner with the Kilzers (including my wife's grandfather), and a movie ( Moana, specifically). And it's not over yet: We get to see some of my wife's friends the day after Christmas! So it's going to be really nice. I will be surrounded by friends and loved ones, and the end of the year shoul...

With A Bow On Top by Belinda Roddie Merry Christmas, Uncle Max! I got you a new girlfriend!

No update on the OneWord website today. Merry Christmas Eve Eve, everyone!

Santa Was Hungry by Belinda Roddie Santa was hungry; therefore, he would feast upon more than the milk and the cookies that were left out for him. The angry beast within his belly would not be appeased until he sated its large appetite. So Santa raided cupboards and pantries, gorging himself on breads and other bites, scarfing down candy, fruit and ham and cheese, He scoured the cellars for bottles of wine, the contents of which he splashed on his beard, getting both drunk and sloppy as he dined on each household's supplies. "How very weird!" the people would all gasp on Christmas Day, while Santa belched and giggled on his sleigh.

I didn't want to tell her the news. Not yet, anyway. Not while we were sitting together on her father's beaten-down, once-black-now-gray couch, her head nestled against my collar, eyes glued to the TV. I didn't want to spoil the atmosphere, or kill her mood. Not yet. Not now. My parents had told me that we would be moving next month. Work-related reasons, they said. Now all I could do was cuddle with my girlfriend and keep the sadness swelling in my gut like rising bread.