Santukkah! by C.T. Walsh

Author:C.T. Walsh [Walsh, C.T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Farcical Press

11

I couldn’t wait for Friday’s end-of-day bell to ring. I was exhausted. I wanted to veg out the whole weekend. It didn’t work out as planned. As soon as I got home, I kicked my feet up on the couch, and the doorbell rang. I didn’t hear anyone else bothering to get the door, so I stood up and groaned all the way to the door, each step more irritating and difficult than the previous one.

I reached for the door knob and missed, too whiny and animated to control my fine motor skills. I took another swipe at it and connected. I twisted the knob and pulled the door open. Can you guess who was standing before me? It was none other than Randolph N. Warblemacher, himself. Even though we had come to a little, well, rather large understanding, I still didn’t want to see the kid on the weekend, let alone have him over my house.

Randy said, “Is Derek here?”

I just stared at him and frowned.

“Did you hear me?” Randy asked, frustrated.

“I did, but I found it less than acceptable,” I said.

Randy huffed. “Is Derek here, sir?” Randy asked.

“I do believe I saw him recently,” I said. “Let me check.”

I turned away from the door. “Derek!”

After a minute Derek arrived and I found my way back to the couch to play video games while the jocks played basketball in the backyard. I heard a whole lot of grunting, complaining, and arguing. I probably should’ve watched the battle. Seeing the two most annoying people I know annoy each other instead of me probably would’ve been quite entertaining.

Unfortunately, I missed it all. An hour later, I found myself in the kitchen snacking on some kettle corn, one of my favorites. My mother was preparing dinner when the back door slammed, a boom echoing throughout the downstairs of the house.

“My goodness,” my mother said, holding her heart.

Derek lumbered into the kitchen, sweaty and steaming from the ears. Randy was just as sweaty, but smiling from ear to ear.

“What was that all about? You nearly scared us half to death.”

“Nothing,” Derek said, grumpily.

I held in a smile. It didn’t happen often, but that was the demeanor of Derek actually losing at something. I couldn’t help myself. “What was the score?”

“I don’t know,” Derek said quickly.

I looked at Randy. “Do you remember?”

“21 to 17,” he said, happily.

I cocked my head and raised an eyebrow as I stared at him.

His happiness quickly dissipated. “Sir,” he added.

Derek and my mother looked at me, confused. I wasn’t about to let them in on the little secret.

My mother handed each of them some water and then tried to change the subject. She knew just as well as I did that when Derek didn’t win, nobody did. She spoke to Randy. “So, Randy, what’s your family doing for Thanksgiving?”

He shrugged. “I think just staying around here. We just moved, so my parents don’t want to travel back. I’m not sure if my cousins are going to make it here,” he said, seemingly disappointed.

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