familiar with her boyfriend's rear, an overzealous Christmas decorator filling the block with outside holiday scenes, and now the newest members of the neighborhood association claimed to be Mr and Mrs Claus.
When did I enter the Twilight Zone, and how soon can I leave?
"Do you have anything to do with all these decorations?" Jane nodded down the street. "Not that I go around blaming people that are innocent. It's just that we've never had quite such a… bright holiday before."
"Exactly," Thelma agreed.
The Kringles looked at one another, then turned back with an amused grin. Leaning forward, Mrs Kringle stage whispered, "It's the elves."
"Elves?" Rye blinked.
"You know"—she waved her hand—"Christmas elves."
"Told you so!" Jane raised her hand in a victory gesture. "Accuse me of seeing things. Hmph."
"Well, we moved in and thought the neighborhood needed a bit of sprucing up for the big holiday. The elves, busy little beavers that they are, decided to take matters into their own hands."
Oh, good grief. First Mr and Mrs Claus. Junior who drove a sleigh and would be buzzing them tomorrow night if the Kringles weren't engaged in hot Santa sex at the time, and now Christmas elves who bore the responsibility for decorating the various yards up and down the street.
"That explains it." Rye nodded as if all the convoluted puzzle pieces fell into place. Come to think of it, they probably did in his mind, quirky as it was. Not to mention, he probably dealt with lunatics and deranged people on a daily basis.
Jane sucked in a breath. "So was it a flying reindeer that took a dump in my yard after all?"
Mr Kringle shook his head. "Free-range pot belly pig."
"I knew it! Tom Thomas, get your pooper scooper and hike your ass over here right now!" She yelled loud enough the shutters shook on the houses.
Why didn't anyone tell me when I bought the house that it sat smack dab in the middle of dementia-land?
Hearing scuffling, Brie turned to find a short statured yet thick and broad black and white pig ambling across the yards, sniffling and snuffling, then moving forward once more. A red and white jacket, matching the jolly old elf's himself, covered the pig's back and half of his front legs. While the presence of a hog in the city might be unusual, one wearing a Christmas costume took the cake.
"Look." Her whispered word had everyone's gaze on the small farm animal.
As they watched, he hurried over to Jane's yard, sidled up to the reindeer, flicked his tail and partially squatted.
"ACK!" Jane hollered and rushed forward. "Stop that, you hairy pork chop!" The pig glanced her way, then loped off with Jane hot on his heels, waving and promising to turn him into a Christmas ham.
"Here, Wilbur! Here, piggy! Su-ey! Su-ey!"
Brie turned a one eighty to see a tall, lanky man with a bald head carrying a dog leash as he hurried down the sidewalk toward Jane.
"Wilbur. Cut that out and come back here," he chastised.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jane corner the errant pig only to have the animal dash between her legs. Jane grabbed too late, leaving her flat on her rear and the mischievous pet running full-out for the man holding the lead. Skidding to a halt, the pig sat back on its haunches and squeaked, receiving a food reward from the man.
"That's my Wilbur. Fruitcake is your favorite after all." After clicking the leash back on, the man led the pig back the way he came.
Rye snickered.
Jane climbed to her feet, sputtering and huffing. "Tom Thomas, stop right where you are."
"The man's deaf as a doornail," Thelma leaned in to whisper in my ear.
Brie nodded.
Brushing herself off, Jane hotfooted down the street in pursuit of the man leading his runaway pet pig.
Oh, yeah. Definitely bedlam.
Chapter 13
The piece of pumpkin bread halted just short of his mouth as he caught a purple-haired lady staring openly at his groin from just a few feet away. If that weren't bad enough, she licked her lips. Frowning, he
When did I enter the Twilight Zone, and how soon can I leave?
"Do you have anything to do with all these decorations?" Jane nodded down the street. "Not that I go around blaming people that are innocent. It's just that we've never had quite such a… bright holiday before."
"Exactly," Thelma agreed.
The Kringles looked at one another, then turned back with an amused grin. Leaning forward, Mrs Kringle stage whispered, "It's the elves."
"Elves?" Rye blinked.
"You know"—she waved her hand—"Christmas elves."
"Told you so!" Jane raised her hand in a victory gesture. "Accuse me of seeing things. Hmph."
"Well, we moved in and thought the neighborhood needed a bit of sprucing up for the big holiday. The elves, busy little beavers that they are, decided to take matters into their own hands."
Oh, good grief. First Mr and Mrs Claus. Junior who drove a sleigh and would be buzzing them tomorrow night if the Kringles weren't engaged in hot Santa sex at the time, and now Christmas elves who bore the responsibility for decorating the various yards up and down the street.
"That explains it." Rye nodded as if all the convoluted puzzle pieces fell into place. Come to think of it, they probably did in his mind, quirky as it was. Not to mention, he probably dealt with lunatics and deranged people on a daily basis.
Jane sucked in a breath. "So was it a flying reindeer that took a dump in my yard after all?"
Mr Kringle shook his head. "Free-range pot belly pig."
"I knew it! Tom Thomas, get your pooper scooper and hike your ass over here right now!" She yelled loud enough the shutters shook on the houses.
Why didn't anyone tell me when I bought the house that it sat smack dab in the middle of dementia-land?
Hearing scuffling, Brie turned to find a short statured yet thick and broad black and white pig ambling across the yards, sniffling and snuffling, then moving forward once more. A red and white jacket, matching the jolly old elf's himself, covered the pig's back and half of his front legs. While the presence of a hog in the city might be unusual, one wearing a Christmas costume took the cake.
"Look." Her whispered word had everyone's gaze on the small farm animal.
As they watched, he hurried over to Jane's yard, sidled up to the reindeer, flicked his tail and partially squatted.
"ACK!" Jane hollered and rushed forward. "Stop that, you hairy pork chop!" The pig glanced her way, then loped off with Jane hot on his heels, waving and promising to turn him into a Christmas ham.
"Here, Wilbur! Here, piggy! Su-ey! Su-ey!"
Brie turned a one eighty to see a tall, lanky man with a bald head carrying a dog leash as he hurried down the sidewalk toward Jane.
"Wilbur. Cut that out and come back here," he chastised.
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jane corner the errant pig only to have the animal dash between her legs. Jane grabbed too late, leaving her flat on her rear and the mischievous pet running full-out for the man holding the lead. Skidding to a halt, the pig sat back on its haunches and squeaked, receiving a food reward from the man.
"That's my Wilbur. Fruitcake is your favorite after all." After clicking the leash back on, the man led the pig back the way he came.
Rye snickered.
Jane climbed to her feet, sputtering and huffing. "Tom Thomas, stop right where you are."
"The man's deaf as a doornail," Thelma leaned in to whisper in my ear.
Brie nodded.
Brushing herself off, Jane hotfooted down the street in pursuit of the man leading his runaway pet pig.
Oh, yeah. Definitely bedlam.
Chapter 13
The piece of pumpkin bread halted just short of his mouth as he caught a purple-haired lady staring openly at his groin from just a few feet away. If that weren't bad enough, she licked her lips. Frowning, he
Similar Books
