Christmas Cars

by Emily Debenham

  Christmas Cars

  By Emily Debenham

  Copyright ? 2011 Emily Debenham

  All Rights Reserved

  Christmas Cars

  Wet gobs of white foam dripped from the branches of our Christmas tree. Mom pulled the trigger of the fire extinguisher once more just for good measure. We stared at the mess. We had been in the kitchen when we smelled the smoke and heard the fire alarm go off. Mom had grabbed the extinguisher under the kitchen sink and high-tailed it to the living room where our Christmas tree was on fire.

  Now that the fire was out and the house was safe we looked at each other, trying to process the event.

  "How did that happen?" I asked.

  "I noticed that the needles were a bit dry yesterday after school. I gave it a little water then. I guess it was already too late," Daniel said.

  Mom pressed her fingers to the bridge of her nose, as we stared at her waiting for an explanation. She closed her eyes to avoid our stares. "You're father always watered the tree," she said.

  "So, are you going to tell him that the Christmas tree burned down the next time he calls?" I asked.

  Dad would probably be upset. We had gone out to cut the down ourselves while dad was still home the week before Thanksgiving. It had taken us hours to find a tree that would fit in our living room. For the next two months his job had him working off-shore on an oil rig, which meant he wouldn't be home for Christmas. We only got to talk to him once a week when everyone came to shore to stock up on supplies and connect with family members.

  She glared. "No, and neither are you. He doesn't need more grief when he is already upset about being away from us this year."

  Daniel was the one that asked the question. "So are we going to get another one?"

  "No," she said. "We are not going to get another Christmas tree."

  I could tell she was embarrassed because her face was all red.

  "Where will we put the presents?" I asked.

  "Don't ask me that," she snapped. "Just help me clean up this mess."

  My brother and I exchanged a look, but we helped Mom salvage what ornaments we could, and then took the tree outside. Nobody mentioned the fact that all our handmade ornaments from elementary and middle school were gone. I shouldn't have cared about our stupid little paper and popsicle stick creations, but they were a Christmas tradition. Now they were gone forever. This was shaping up to be a pretty lousy Christmas.

  "Tom," Mom turned to me. "Will you put the tree in the back of your truck and take it to the dump?"

  "Can I do it tomorrow?" I asked, looking at the time on my cell. "I need to head to town hall."

  Mom cocked her head about to ask why I was going to town hall, but the question didn't come. She only sighed and said, "Fine."

  I put on my shoes and pulled on a coat. I grabbed the keys to my 15 year old Toyota Tacoma, which used to belong to dad. He had passed the car down to me on my sixteenth birthday. I was secretly glad mom hadn't asked where I was going. It would be nice to keep my plan secret for a few days longer.

  Every year at Christmas our small community held a car decoration contest. Most people liked to compete over decorated houses or yards lit up with twinkling lights and electronic moving gadgets. Perhaps it was the small size of our town that made us desire to express our Christmas cheer on a smaller scale, or the fact that we all knew Leary would win the house contest anyway, seeing he lived in the old Victorian mansion on Main. Nothing else in town matched it in size or upkeep. Most of us lived in small 1950's box homes with random additions on the side. Garages were scarce, but parking pavilions raged from beautiful brick arches to cheap, striped, plastic awnings.

  I don't know who first came up with the idea, but it took hold, grew roots, and became part of the Christmas season around here. Each year the mayor picked a theme, and this year I was determined to win. Not because I wanted a write up in the newspaper and a fancy picture on the wall of town hall- the only structure in town that was larger than Leary's quaint Victorian mansion. I wanted the $500 in prize money. I needed it for Christmas gifts. The economy had been hard on everyone for the past two years, and both my mom and brother were depressed that dad wasn't home this year. Now with the Christmas tree gone, it was more important than ever that I win this contest.

  Dad's job paid enough money for us to get what we needed, but not often did we get very extravagant wants. I wanted to change all that this Christmas. I would get a Nintendo Wii for my brother. Mom would get a new store bought outfit. I couldn't remember the last time she had bought something new for herself instead of from the thrift store down the street. I couldn't think of anything to get for dad yet, but I still had time to figure that out. Maybe the prize money could also provide another Christmas tree.

  I pulled into the town hall parking lot already sizing up my competitors. Sure most people had nicer cars than I did, but my little red truck had enough character to blow a shiny new SUV out of the water. I nodded to others as they found their way into the meeting hall. Soft Christmas lights lined the wooden stair railings and doorframes giving a soft glow to the dim hallways. The hand crafted oak doors leading into the hall had pine wreaths beribboned with red and gold.

  The mayor entered from the back of the room and walked up to the front. A chattering mob of people swathed around him, as he tried to fend them off. He walked up to the table that had been set up at the font and grabbed the battery operated microphone.

  He flipped the switch. "Does this thing work?" he asked.

  His voice echoed through the room answering his question. He paused to straighten his suit and ordered everyone to sit down. Once everyone had settled into the benches and things had quieted down the mayor gave a sigh of relief.

  "My, you folks sure are excited to get this contest underway. I've been harried all weekend for the slightest smidgen of a clue. But I did not capitulate, even to Mrs. Murphy's fine apple pie," he nodded to her. "Thanks."

  "Anytime, anytime," she replied.

  "I may have to take you up on that offer," a voice hollered from the back.

  "If I ever saw you in a suit Eric Murphy I'd be happy to oblige."

  Everyone laughed because it was common knowledge that Mr. Murphy had taken a solemn vow against suits ever since he had retired.

  The mayor cleared his throat for silence and continued. "You all know the rules, but they need repeating."

  The rule were the same every year-guidelines for registering for the contest, how the judging would be run, and the restrictions. These restrictions included things like no live animals, no fireworks or firearms, no alcohol, no distribution of alcohol, and no hazardous chemicals or explosives.

  Finally, the mayor continued, "And finally the prize for winning first place is $500, posting of your picture in town hall, and bragging rights. Any questions?"

  There was silence.

  "Alright, the theme for this year is?.Rudolf the Red Nose Reindeer."

  Excited chattering broke out, and the mayor did not try to quell the excitement. He watched the crowd for a few moments as he tugged on his suit coat.

  "Well, folks, I gotta get home to my wife. My staff will take care of contest registration on the left-hand side of the room. If you have more questions or concerns please get in contact with my office. Good night."