"Fire up the reindeer!" I yell up to Taylor, who's standing on the roof with Santa's sleigh— the piece d'resistance we've spent the last hour trying to put together. We wound lights around it for what felt to my back like half my life, only to realize that we had to do it all over again because Rudolph's nose ended up on Blitzen's ass, making it look like he was shitting a cranberry in midair. That was nearly the last straw. I survived the animated baby snowman choir that sings Santa Claus is Coming to Town via loud speaker (fucking continuously!) with jumbo flat screen accompaniment for sing-a-long purposes; the gum drop garden with twirling candy cane striped poinsettias and lollipops taller than my children that line the front walk; even Taylor and I spelling out Hoof Stop in lights with a teeter-tottering flashing red arrow pointing to a landing strip on the roof we also made. But, these reindeer games—these were almost too much. I would've quit, but two things kept me going: my family's holiday happiness and fucking Bent Dicks—hard.

Taylor flips a switch and the sleigh is aglow. And boy does it fucking glow. It looks like Santa's team got struck by a comet and kept going until it hit a house. But, overall everything looks good. Rudolph's nose is on his face; the rotating lights that make the reindeer look like they're running through thin air look realistic (ten years off my life to make that happen!); even Santa's beard has a nice fluff to it—well, as fluffy as you can make it with hard wire and electricity. Just as my hopes are high that we can move on from this nightmare and onto to the next, Houston—or rather the North Pole of Seattle's got a problem.

"We have to turn it around!" I yell, motioning my arms in a circular fashion aimed at Santa's back end.

"Nice isn't it, sir?" he says, giving me an enthusiastic thumbs up. He's far too excited about Santa's ass.

"No! Turn it!" I point a finger and twirl it in the air.

"Yes, first place, Mr. Grey!" What the hell? Does he think my finger is a one and I'm already celebrating victory?

"No! It's the wrong way!"

"I can't hear you, sir! The wind really whips around up here!" It's just a little fucking breeze; he acts like he's about to be swept up and under a house with a witch in striped socks on his way to meet Oz.

"It's facing the wrong way!" I yell, louder, with hands cupped around my mouth.

"How's that, sir?"

I'm sick of having a conversation with him like we're in two separate beds of a nut house talking on a string-and-can phone, so I climb up the ladder to him. At least then we can talk nut to nut—so to speak. Fuck, it's quite a climb. I never realized my house was this high. I feel like I just scaled GEH with my fingernails and one lung. When I look down all I see are life-sized gingerbread people with no fingers and toothless smiles, who look like they're just waiting for me to fall so they can exact revenge on me for all the limbs and heads of their ancestors I broke off and ate over the years.

"Santa's got a full sack and he's flying away from the chimney, not to it!" I say, after reaching the top. Any man should see the problem in that.

"Maybe he's finished his fun with this house, his presents have been left under this tree and he's happily on his way to take the toys still in his sack to put under another tree before he's been found out by the first tree, sir."

Why do I think he's speaking from experience? I wonder if Taylor got discovered putting packages under other trees in other houses in his first marriage by not making a quick enough getaway.

"People want to see Santa coming, not going." Doesn't Taylor know anything about delayed gratification and the art of anticipation? Funny, Santa Claus and the playroom have a lot in common—they're both red, carry toys and give you a helluva surprise gift in the end.

"Maybe if we just angle the sleigh a little, Mr. Grey. To make it appear like it's headed in the direction of the lading strip, but nothing really hits..." If this sounds like a good idea to him, I suddenly feel sorry for Gail. Since when did Taylor get so lazy? Probably since he hung 10,751 lights on one apple tree. But, damn does it look like ice dripping into a peppermint cocoa river.

"Listen, I'm not looking forward to busting my balls on whatever barbed wire shit this thing is made of..." And I'm not kidding. I nearly made six children an impossibility for Ana and me after a sharp turn by Donner's ear. "But, we're not half-assing this." I give Taylor a meaningful finger point. "Because nobody ever won the Ho-Ho-House decorating contest using half their ass."

"Yes, sir."

"Besides, everyone entered in this thing is already a complete asshole, so we have to be double."

He nods. I don't know if he's agreeing or if he's just trained that way, but whatever the case all asses are in it to win it.

"Lift the sleigh on the count of three," I say, as he grabs the front and I grab the back. "One, two—" He lifts the sleigh, throwing me backwards and nearly knocking me into my ice skating bears on the frozen rooftop pond. "I said wait until three!"

"I thought it would be a quicker count, sir."

Finally, he gets his numbers right and we lift the thing. We huff and we puff and we nearly blow my satellite dish down as we flip it around. Finally, after seven or eight minutes of agony and another close call with pointy ended reindeer parts on my manhood, we get it facing right—or rather left, which is actually right.

"What's next?" I pant, and he picks up the list to read. The sweat dripping down my face tastes like a mixture of blood, dirt and plastic that was set on fire. But, I don't have time to wash up or bandage scrapes, I have 107,453 more lights to hang.

"We have to raise the sleigh onto a wire and tilt it in a downward slope so it appears in flight and close to landing on our strip, Mr. Grey."

"You're fucking kidding me!" I grab the sheet from his hand. He's not. "Where do we attach the wire?" It's getting so dark, even with this sleigh blaring next to me, I have to pull out my iPhone flashlight.

"I believe we use these poles they gave us on both sides of this section of the roof." He picks up some large metal polls, a long piece of wire and some electrical tape.

"We're supposed to hang this whole fucking sleigh on this little piece of wire?" I lift the wire up. I've flossed with stuff thicker than this. I've done other stuff, too.

"That's the impression I get, sir."

"Impression? You mean you don't know for sure?"

"That's what it appears on the drawing."

I look. He's right, that's what's drawn. I can't help but feeling there must be more to this.

"Why are there no fucking directions spelled out on any of this?"

"Spelled out, sir?"

"Yes, like in letters! Like a cookbook, but for Christmas extravaganzas."

"I believe it's because the lighting crew would've already known how to do all this, sir." Oh yes, the lighting crew who's more worried about fifty cent pay raises from their boss than defecting and getting a year's salary plus benefits like medical, dental and trips to the Virgin Islands from me. Who said everyone is a sell out these days? Not the fucking greater Seattle area Christmas lighter's association. You can trust them with everything but getting the job done.

We each take a pole and I grab the wire.

"Okay, if we want to suspend the body properly and bring the sleigh in for a landing, the ass has to be up and the face down." I know first hand about the rules of suspension. And thankfully Ana got over her initial hesitation about year three into our marriage and it's been all ass up and face down ever since.

"Yes, sir."

"Yes, sir, what?" I forgot what we were talking about. I'm too busy thinking about Ana's ass in the air.

"Suspension from the rear up, sir."

"Oh right."

We both work to tie our wire to opposite poles. Taylor's is shorter and skinnier than mine, of course.

Just then, my phone rings. Speak of the devilish angel—it's Ana. It's like she can sense when I'm tying things up when she isn't around. Such the green-eyed goddess.

"Baby, what's going on?" I ask, trying to sound as casual as possible. It's difficult when you're hoisting Santa's back end up and onto your pole.

"Why do you sound out of breath?"

"I just went for a run." God, I hate lying to her, but it's for a good cause. And she's the one who made me promise over the weekend to lie in the spirit of Christmas. Plus, it isn't a total lie—I have been running all over our roof and creation in general.

"I thought you had a meeting," she says. I can hear the suspicion in her voice.

"I did. I needed to burn off some energy."

"Is something wrong?"

"No! All is fine! You know how the Taiwanese get me all steamed up." That came out wrong. And weird... She's going to think you're up to something, Grey!

"You're up to something, Grey!" I knew it! She's using her pinpoint intuition and is about to read me. Those blue eyes can see the truth in me, even through the phone.

"What could I possibly be up to?"

"I don't know, that's what I'm afraid of."

"Santa's head is on my pole!" Taylor calls out, far too loudly and with too much delight.

I wave my hand to hush him up.

"Was that Taylor?"

"No. I mean, yes, he's around."

"What is he around for?"

"He's always around. There's rarely a reason for it."

Once secured, he gives me a nod and we both let go of our of ends. It looks good, until the sleigh starts swinging from left to right in time with the wind.

"We're coming back now," Ana says.

"No!"

"What?"

"I mean, what about dinner? I'm sure Kate's ready to wine and dine over there." More like she dialed up for Chinese and drank half a bottle while she did it. "But, don't drink!"

"We already ate. An hour ago."

I look at the time on my phone. Fuck, it's so far after seven it's practically eight.

"Have you and Kate had enough girl talk?"

"Okay, now I know you're up to something!"

"No, I just don't want you driving right now. There's an awful wind that's kicked up."

The awful wind's kicked up Comet's hoof into my head.

"Fuck!"

"What?"

"I'm just looking at the wind outside." And the blood on my fingers that came from my near skull fracture. "I'll have Sawyer come get you."

"Sawyer is already here." Double fuck.

"Okay, well just wait another hour."

"Christian—"

"Okay, I admit it—I have a surprise for you and the kids. I just need a little more time. I love you, baby." I hang up before she can say more and text Sawyer in shouty capitals to: FUCKING STALL.

"Damn, it is windy up here!" I say, as Santa's sleigh swings back and forth in pendulum fashion, making any hopes for a landing we may have, rough. "I'm not sure those poles are secure enough."

"What should we do, sir?"

"Use the electrical tape!" That always works in a bind.

"Where, sir?"

"Where things are flying around!"

My phone rings. Fuck, if this is Ana again... No, it's Dan Lumis, my shithead neighbor with the marital problems and hemorrhoid issues. What the fuck does he want? Probably to talk extensively about both. You listen for one minute to some idiots and they think you're their fucking psychiatrist. I ignore it. I start helping with the electrical tape and he rings me again!

"What, Dan?" I finally answer.

"I think someone is trying to break into your property."

"What? No."

"Yep! I can see two shadowy figures messing around by your chimney."

"I'm sure it's nothing—"

"I just called your wife and she said none of you were home, but I definitely see two people on your rooftop!"

"You called my wife?!" How the hell did he even get her number? And why did he feel fancy free enough to use it before he called me? This has me more pissed off than him spying on my rooftop activities.

"Yeah, she seemed alarmed."

"Of course she was! You just told her someone was breaking into our house!"

Fuck. My other line rings. It's Ana again. I press to take her call.

"Everything is fine, Ana!"

"But, Dan Lumis says—"

"He's wrong!"

"How would you know, you're not home?"

Fuck.

"Because he's wrong about everything. He's an idiot, it's well documented. His wife said so in a court of law."

"But, Christian—"

"Nothing's happening—" Wait a second, this is how I keep her away. "I mean, I'm sure nothing is happening, but just to be on the extra safe side I want you and the kids to stay far away from this situation. I won't risk your safety and well being. Even if you have to spend the whole night over there and I wouldn't see you until tomorrow at five." Just before the contest.

"I'm scared, Christian."

"Don't be, I'm handling it. I'll call you in a bit, baby. Nothing to worry about. Just stay put."

I click back over.

"Dan, stop watching my fucking house! There's no one breaking in—"

"I'm looking at them now—one of them is waving a flashlight in the air." No, that's just me waving my arms around in sheer exasperation.

"How are you seeing all this?"

"With binoculars."

"Why the hell do you have binoculars pointed at my house?" What the fuck? Does he watch us all the time? Is he trying to see Ana in the nude or in her swimming attire? No wonder he called her, he probably wondered if there was some night action going on that he could be a part of.

"I saw light and movement, so I pulled out my special pair to search," he says. I'm not even going to touch that one. But, I think it's the reason his wife filed for the big D.

"No one is breaking in, Dan! Do you need it messaged over in triplicate?" I would tell him the truth, but I don't want to give anyone a hint as to what I'm doing. "The security system would see if there's a problem."

"It's been going on for awhile and I haven't heard any sirens."

"That's because there's no problem! Happy Holidays! And stop calling my wife!"

Click.

"Oh come all ye faithful..."

"Fuck! The carolers!" I can see them in those old cloaks that have belonged to the Sunday School since the time of Dickens belting out an off-tune tune on the Ditmeyer's lawn. Please don't buzz the gate to my property. They'll see me up here and I'll have to respond, as opposed to what I usually do—ignore them and turn off the front lights. But, then Ana usually hears them, turns the lights back on and invites them in for cookies and punch and my night is completely ruined with twenty-five choruses of We Wish You a Merry Christmas—most of which I think were made up. Maybe Granny Dit—as she likes to be called by the kids for some odd reason— will keep them occupied for awhile. She always asks for seconds and thirds of Deck the Halls sung in rounds. She gets off on how one starts the chorus and the other one waits like five seconds to start their part and so on and so on. It's like she's fucking watching Star Wars.

"Well, at least we have festive tunes to decorate by," Taylor says.

"What are you talking about? This baby snowman choir has been singing about us up on this rooftop for three hours straight!" Damn those baby snowmen!

"I think we need to secure this pole down the chimney, sir."

"I don't want a pole sticking out of my chimney."

"You won't notice it if we wrap it with lights."

"No, that way you'll notice it more!"

This isn't ideal, but he's right. We need more security with the poles. I move to help him stick it in the chimney.

"It's too far down; Santa's too close to the chimney! He looks like he's about to crash."

We both move to pull it up, but it won't budge.

"Pull harder, Taylor."

"I can't, sir. I think it's caught on something."

"Fuck! It's dark down here!I" I say, sticking my head down the chimney. "I can't see where we put it." I point my iPhone flashlight and move it around until it's in view. "It's caught between some bricks." I try and reach my hand down, but it's impossible to grab.

"Silver Bells... Silver Bells..."

I can hear the carolers getting closer. I look. They're at the house below mine—The Francinis—which is still a good hike away, but still it's too close. And caroler feet move fast.

"What happened to your hand, sir?" he asks, looking at my black sooty paw.

"It touched my soul." I roll my eyes and wipe it on my jeans. "Taylor, crawl down the chimney!"

"Excuse me, sir?"

"I need you to dislodge the pipe from the bricks while I supervise."

"Crawl in, sir? Like with my feet?"

"No, you can't see anything with your feet! The front end, so you can grab it." He looks confused. "Make diving hands and go on in. I'll hold you." Now confusion has morphed into terror. Is the trust between us so thin?

Reluctantly, he steps over to the bricks, kneels down, and like he's sacrificing himself to the gods, sticks his head inside. He's so dramatic. I grab hold of his feet—Jesus, they're Sasquatch like. He nearly takes me out with his toes—as he inches his way down. Then he stops.

"Did you find the spot?"

"No, I can't move."

"What's wrong?"

"I think my chest is too big for this, sir."

"What? No, keep going. You've got plenty of room." He's not a abominable beast—barely.

I edge him down a little farther, until he really can go no more.

"I have it, sir!"

"Good! I'll pull you up."

I pull him, but he doesn't move—he's stuck.

"Taylor, suck in your gut!"

"It's not my gut, sir. It's my rib cage and pectorals." He would try to brag about the size of his pecks at a time like this.

"Just shimmy a little."

"What does that mean, sir?"

"You know—shimmy." How do I explain shimmying to a guy like Taylor? Shimmying isn't the sport of a gorilla. "Move around a little until you feel air in places again."

He wiggles and frees up a little space, but as he does this Santa's slay starts swinging, encouraged by the wind. Jesus, if he shimmies anymore Santa's going to have a crash landing. He's moving around his lower region like he's John Travolta all of a sudden and he's got the fever of a Saturday night.

"Hold your hips still, Taylor. I'm going to get you out!"

"We wish you a Merry Christmas..."

The carolers! Well, at least I closed the gate... But, why are they getting closer? Why are they walking up the drive? Why are they lining up and singing right in front of me? Fuck, I didn't close the gate!

"Just one verse tonight, kids," I say as they finish the first verse and then immediately start in on the second. They don't even care that I'm on the roof with a man head first and halfway down the chimney. It's like they're pre-programmed to just keep on singing come rain, come snow, come POLICE SIRENS!

"Oh shit."

"What, sir?"

"Just stay calm and don't move!"

"I can't move, sir."

About twenty police cars are charging down the road. For a moment I allow myself to think that they're not coming for me, then common sense takes over—that fucker Dam Lumis called the cops!

Within seconds the house is surrounded!

I look up and see a police helicopter and two others from news stations swarming overhead. Of course cable news is here; they always come running when they smell blood. They don't realize the ratings gold they have here—Billionaire family burglarized by themselves. The police light shines down on me.

Suddenly the gates open and cop cars speed up the drive—lights and sirens blaring. Damn it, why didn't I shut the gate?!

"What's going on, sir?" Taylor's words echo from place in his hole.

"I think we're being arrested for breaking into our own house."

"Put your hands over your head!" A cop says over a mega phone.

"They are!" Taylor says, but nobody hears him but me.

"What the hell is happening?!" I ask.

The carolers have finally stopped their singing and are now screaming.

"Run!" Their teenage chaperone tells them and they flee. That's one way to get rid of them.

"What are you doing up there?" The cop on the megaphone yells.

"Putting up my Christmas lights! This is my house!"

"Put your weapon down"

"What weapon?"

"In your hand!"

I look to my hand. I'm holding onto the end of the pole.

"This isn't a weapon, this is a pole—to hang my sleigh."

"Well, let go of it." I do and the sleigh starts to wobble.

"Listen, I can explain!"

Just then, the wind kicks up and starts talking for me. I don't like what it's saying. The sleigh starts to swing. I try to catch it, but I can't. Like it's Christmas Eve and Santa's late for his last drop, it flies through the night and into the crowd, crashing into the window of a cop car.

"Taylor?"

"Yes, sir?"

"Do you have the checkbook?"

#######

It's nearly 6pm on judgement day and the neighborhood is aglow. It's not just me who's gone all out—the Bensons, the O'galleys, The Chous... Even that cheap bastard Joe Mortimer sprung for a paltry string across his awning. He probably dug it out of someone's trash, but it's the spirit that counts. But, not one can touch my spirit—I'm like Christmas past, present and future all rolled into one and lit on fire. Taylor and I—after the cops all left with their entire holidays paid for by the Grey family dime—spent the entire night patching up that sleigh and finishing the decor. And though today I feel like a truck hit me, I also feel like a winner.

"So, what is this surprise that you've been working on that almost got you arrested last night?" Ana asks, sitting beside me in the back of the SUV as we head for home with the kids. I was going to try and keep my rooftop run-in with the authorities hush-hush, but I can't keep secrets from my Ana. Like I said, she extracts the truth from me with her eyes. Plus, carolers talk and it was all over the news.

"Patience Ana," I say.

Daddy, did you get almost 'rested last night?" Teddy asks me, bouncing up and down on his seat like grasshopper. How does this kid have so much energy at the end of the day?

"No, Daddy got no rest last night, son. Trust me." I rub my eyes that are so puffy they rival the marshmallows in my cocoa river. l hope Taylor remembered to turn the heater on for that thing. I don't want chocolate milk instead of hot Christmas cocoa flowing in my rapids.

"I'm sure Daddy will get plenty of rest tonight." Ana says, pointedly my way. "I'm going to make sure all Daddy gets is sleep." Fuck, is she saying no sex?! She can't still be mad at me! Maybe she'll change her mind once she sees everything. Either that or instead of dessert tonight, ot'll be all desert.

"Slow down! I want to check out the competition!" I say, as Taylor drives us toward home. He doesn't even look tired. Even when we finished at seven this morning and we basically went straight to the office, he didn't miss a beat. Which makes me wonder if he's not really one of those vampires that never needs to sleep and just hang upside down all night. I shake my head; this lack of sleep is making my thoughts batty—literally.

"Look Daddy, it's the man with the fires in his lunch baggies!" Phoebe says, pointing out the window. That fucking luminaria guy is at it again, lining the sidewalks and driveways with his bags. He's so obsessed with those things, I wonder what he does the rest of the year. He forces them on everyone like he's some sort of candle-in-a-sack rapist.

I open the window and he looks up at me. "Hey, don't put those sacks of sand by my house!"

"I'll put sacks of something else by your house! My sh—"

I shut the window before he can finish.

"Chester, do you like the lights?" Phoebe asks the rodent who is now perched on her shoulder dressed in a emerald green jogging suit.

"Where did he come from?" I ask.

"Uncle Taylor brought him for me."

I give Taylor a look. He shrugs. He can't say no to my girl. Who am I kidding?—neither can I.

"What is that thing on Reardon's lawn?" I point to what I think is supposed to be a snowman, but looks more like white boxes stacked up and something sticking out of the top of what's supposed to be the face.

"I believe that's a snowman made of teeth and his nose is a toothbrush, sir," Taylor says.

I look closer as we pass. He's right; those are three stacked up molars. Leave it to that dentist to make a mockery of holiday decor by using this contest to advertise his practice. I guess he figures even if he doesn't win, he wins.

"Okay, everyone get ready!" I say, clapping my hands together. I was probably a bit too loud and enthusiastic, considering everyone jumped.

"We gotta get ready to go home?" Teddy asks. "I thought that's where we get unready in our pajamas."

"You're not going home," I say, building the suspense in my voice. "You're going some place far more magical." Why do I suddenly sound like I'm British and my boxer briefs are too tight?

"We are?" Phoebe asks, eyes large.

"Christian, why are you acting so strange?" Ana asks.

"I'm not strange, I'm excited!" I clap my hands again. Chester flashes his teeth. "Because we're about to enter Christmas Land!"

We reach the house and the gates open to my world to the tune of White Christmas played on loud speakers. And boy is it white—and red and green and silver and gold... They've done an excellent job with that snow fluff everywhere. And the bricks they've made to look like ice blocks are truly a sight to behold.

Taylor stops the car and I help Ana and the children out.

"What are we doing?" Ana asks.

"Taking a sleigh ride." I point to a sleigh.

"You got real reindeer?" she asks.

"They're actors on loan from a Hollywood tamer," I whisper in her ear.

"Daddy, it's Rudolph!" Phoebe says, pointing to the one in front with the red nose. I'm glad that thing stayed on. He was more ornery than we thought. Taylor has a hoof print in the nuts to prove it.

"We'll have to feed them magical carrots later to get them to fly." If you'd have told me seven plus years ago that I'd say that—ever—I'd have sent you to Flynn.

I help my family into the sleigh and we're off. Thankfully the professional sleigh operator doesn't talk much. I value that in employees.

We dash through the fake snow along what used to be the drive up to our house, but is now Candy Cane Lane—there's even a hand painted sign by an artist from France. He's the number one street sign painter in the world. I don't know how you get that title, but I don't fucking care as long as my signs look good. And they do! The apple trees blink red and white and mechanical Christmas characters say holiday greetings in seventeen languages. My favorite is Scrooge and Tiny Tim speaking in Japanese.

"Is that Santa's house?" Teddy asks, pointing in the distance all the way down Reindeer Road—there's a sign for that, too.

"Yes, and there's the workshop where they make the toys." I point.

"Santy lives with us now?" Phoebe asks, awed.

"When he's not in the North Pole."

"Daddy, there's little mans running in our yard!" Phoebe squeals.

"No, those are the elves."

"You got elves, too?" Ana asks.

"They're here to pass out cocoa from the river to the neighbors." I'm glad they all got here on time. They were at a Christmas carnival in Tacoma until noon. They're such divas—they demanded first class accommodations and triple pay just because they won first prize in their elf division. I don't know what they had to do. I think it involved synchronized marching and timed toy assembly.

The kids are spellbound. Watching them watch all this is the best Christmas present I could ever ask for.

"How did you do all of this?" Ana asks.

"I have to admit, the grounds were done by professionals, but Taylor and I did all the lights on the entire house by ourselves."

"This is what you were doing?"

I nod.

"This is—"

"Breathtaking? Awe inspiring?" I hope...

"Crazy!" I frown, but then she smiles. "But, incredible." I'm awarded for my efforts with a kiss.

We make our way up to the house and I help Ana and the kids out of the sleigh.

"Why is the house dark?" she asks.

"I'm waiting to light it for the contest. I want it to be a surprise."

"Daddy, this is the coolest ever!" Teddy runs and attaches himself to my leg like a monkey. "We get to live in Christmas!"

"Yay, Daddy!" Phoebe says and attaches herself to my other leg. No need for further gifting—I got matching Grey leg weights for Christmas. "When does the fairy make your lights twinkle?"

"When I tell Taylor to flip the switch, which won't be long now."

"Well, well, well, if it isn't my old buddy, Grey," I hear Bent Dicks before I see him, because he's so fucking short and blends into things like the Hobbit. He's nearly out of breath, surely from the trek up to my place from his shack at the end of town. He was so eager to live in my neighborhood he bought a closet.

I move away from Ana and the kids to see what the fucker wants.

"What is it, Bent?"

"I saw you caught soot-handed on the news last night. I have to admit, I didn't think you'd get all of this done in time. I underestimated you, Grey."

"That seems to be an issue with you—small thinking."

He laughs, but no sound comes out. Except if you listen closely you can hear every pore in his body screaming asshole.

"Impressive that you got your lights hung in time. Must be all your muscle." Is he looking at my muscles? Things just got strange.

"I saw you did, too. Of course it only took half a strand to cover everything."

"You know you're still not going to win."

"Oh yeah, how?"

"I've handpicked the judges. They fucking hate you."

"Everyone hates me me, but I still always win."

"Not with this trio."

"Who?"

"Do the names Mickey Hill, Jim Freebanks and Lily Landmarker ring a bell?" Mickey Hill—the guy I beat the shit out of in the eighth grade for calling my sister cute. Jim Freebanks—the guy I fired for failing a drug test and spared no mercy after he claimed it was only "one bad weekend with a hooker at a rave—maybe two." And who the fuck is Lily Landmarker? Lily... Lily...

"Lily? That friend of my sister?"

"She's no friend of yours. She has a big problem with you, Grey."

"What did I ever do to her?"

"Nothing. That's her problem—and my solution."

"Are you saying you've purposely sabotaged me with the votes?" Damn, these people hold grudges. I thought Lily got married to a chiropractor. Maybe she did and he's not adjusting her correctly.

"I'm saying I've waited a long time for this day." He raises a brow that has more hair on it than his whole head—weave included. "As long as one other house has lights on, they win and you lose."

"This is absolutely illegal! You're saying there's no way I can possibly win?" How the fuck did this guy get dictatorial reign over this contest, anyway?

"Oh—it's possible. Only if everyone else's lights are out and you're the lone man standing." He eyes me up and down. Does this man have a thing for me that I never knew about? Is this the source of his wrath?

He walks off, laughing along my red and green jolly bricked road as he goes. I think I even saw him skip. One of the elves approaches him with a cup of cocoa.

"Don't give him anything!" I yell and the elf pulls it away from his greedy paws, quite violently. I'm about to tackle him, but I realize my children are watching. I plan to have Welch get him in trouble with the IRS Instead. I walk back to my family, defeated. That's not a feeling I'm familiar with, nor do I want to get to know well.

"What's wrong?" Ana asks.

"This stupid contest. I'm going to call the whole thing off." I run two hands through my hair and pull.

"No Daddy, I wanna see the lights!" Teddy says, jumping up and down.

"Yeah, me too!" Phoebe says. "I want to see what Daddy did for us!" And in that moment, it hits me. I didn't do all this for some stupid contest. Sure, it was an added incentive to beat Bent Dicks to a proverbial bloody pulp. But, I did it for the three most important smiles in my life—my son, my daughter and my wife.

"I'm sorry I said that; I'm not calling it off. I can't wait for you guys to see it!" I reach my hand out to Ana and she takes it. I pull her in close and kiss her hair as the kids hug around us both. I have all three holding onto me. Holding on to a body I thought could never be touched.

This is Christmas.

"Sir," Taylor comes up. I notice he got most of the soot off from last night. He's not dark charcoal like he was this morning, only one shade of gray...

"What is it?" I ask.

"The judges are here."

I look around to see three of the most miserable people walking the earth—all who wish I would leave it.

"Is that Lily?" Ana asks. Lily gives her the once over and scowls. Damn that woman is vile. She missed her calling; she could make a fortune as an actor playing creatures from black lagoons.

"Unfortunately, yes."

"Grey," Mickey says as he steps up to me, but he says no more. And thank God for that—his breath smells like it got lost in the sewer for a long holiday, two days after the feast of the seven fishes.

"Who's about to be assed out after doing their job now?" Freebanks asks. "Huh? Huh?" I can see the drug use wasn't a one time thing. I pull my family back.

Lily walks over to us and does her impression of a smile. It's less happy and more like a shark with a bad episode of gas. She still hasn't fixed those overly bleached snaggleteeth.

"Lily, lovely to see you. You remember my wife and children."

"I'm married now, too. And happy!" She says happy like it's a dagger to be used to stab me.

The judges move into judging position, which is really just standing there and waiting for something to happen.

"Are you excited to see it, guys?" I ask the kids, as I pull Ana in closer.

"Yay! Lights, Daddy!" they holler. Even Chester looks excited. That jogging suit he's wearing makes him look less like he's about to exercise and more like he's about to bust out a hard core rap.

"Ready, sir?" Taylor calls out to me.

"Ready!" I call back.

And with a flip of the switch the house is ablaze.

"Wow, Daddy!" Teddy says. I can see the twirling snowflakes dancing in his eyes.

"I never seen so many lights in all my life," Phoebe says.

"In all 4.4 years?" I ask, smiling down at her, and petting her hair.

She nods, mouth open wide in awe.

"It is amazing, Christian." Ana tilts her head up to me. "You did all this?"

"Yes, for you." I kiss her forehead and take a moment to enjoy the scent of her hair. "For my family," I whisper against her brow.

Mine.

Suddenly the lights start to flicker.

"What's happening?" Ana asks.

"Is this part of the show?" Teddy asks.

"Yay a show!" Phoebe squeals. "Is Santy coming?"

"No," I say, watching the sleigh lights flash on and off. "I think he's going!"

I run over to Taylor.

"This isn't right. Do something!"

All of a sudden the lights go out. But, not just mine. The lights of the entire neighborhood. I've taken out the grid!

"Taylor! Start the generators!" Thankfully, I'm always prepared.

"Right away, sir!"

He runs to the garage.

"Christian!" Ana calls out. "Where are you?"

I turn on my iPhone flashlight. Damn this little thing comes in handy.

"I'm right here, baby."

I make my way back to them.

"I'm scared of the dark!" Phoebe holds to me.

"It's okay, I'll keep you guys safe."

The only thing good about the pitch black is that I don't have to look at Lily. Oh wait, she must be smiling— I can see her teeth.

After a few minutes my lights flicker and then they're back on.

"Yay!" The kids cheer as the bears begin to skate again and the snowmen begin to sing.

"I wonder when everyone's power will come back on?" Ana asks, always concerned with the well being of the neighbor-kind.

"They'll be fine."

I turn and look down at the pitch black hill down below.

"The neighborhood is dark," I say, coming to that suddenly wonderful realization.

"Yes, I know. All those pretty lights are out."

"Yes!" I hold my arms up in the air and shout. "The neighborhood is dark!"

I run over to the edge of the hill that looks out over the community. I probably look insane, but I don't fucking care—the neighborhood is dark!

"I won!" I yell, holding my hands high in victory as my words echo. "I won!"

"Damn you, Grey!" Bent's voice echoes back. That's right Bent, cheaters may sometimes prosper, but fuckers never do!

And like that, amidst the darkness, the Ho-Ho-House King has been crowned.

#######

"I'm happy you won tonight," Ana says, crawling into bed with me as I lay flat on my back. No part of me can move—well almost no part. Those tits in that satin number are getting something moving. I hope she's changed her mind about the no sex and Daddy's getting dessert.

"Who would've thought the generators I bought would come in so handy," I say. "See, it's wise to plan ahead for a cloudy day. You never know when those clouds might turn into rain and flooding and disaster..."

"You're always such an optimist."

She looks absolutely delicious in her nighty. I can't resist a nibble.

"What are you doing?" she asks as I take her earlobe between my teeth and simultaneously stroke her hardening nipple.

"Celebrating."

I move my lips to her chest, kissing her through the satin of her gown until I reach her belly. I inch her nighty up so I can feel her bare skin on my lips.

"We definitely have a football player here." I kiss her ever-expanding bump as she runs her fingers through my hair.

"You know it's a wonderful thing you built that Christmas wonderland in our yard."

"You like it?" I smile against her belly and kiss my way farther down. To my delight, Ana's not wearing panties. Good girl.

"I love it," she purrs and bucks around as I nuzzle her. "Because now we can host the Kreative Kidz Christmas party on Christmas Eve day.

I stop and look up.

Oh. Fuck.