O Little Town of Mitchellville: A Mitchell Family Novella Page 6

  My eager granddaughter follows me into the boys room. They left the lights on and the closet doors open, but for the most part it’s clean. Miranda will make them vacuum when she returns and there’s no doubt she’ll bitch about something else they missed in the process.

  With family coming for Christmas, it’s only natural for her to want the house spotless. She goes a little crazy at Christmas, but I think that’s just a woman thing. Every one that I know does it, especially neat freak Van.

  “Why are we taking the chocolate to their room? Are we hiding it from Grandma?”

  “No. We’re going to use it for something.”

  “Oh.” She’s confused, so I feel the need to explain.

  “We’re going to put poop in all their underwear,” I say with a scrunched face. “Gross, right?”

  “Eww,” she replies with two missing front teeth.

  Grabbing all of the underwear from their drawers, We spread them out on the bed and get to work. I show Sarah what to do. “Okay, unwrap your chocolate and then take it and drag it down the fabric like this.”

  She giggles into her hands. “It looks like poop.”

  “I know. That’s the point. It will look like they pooped themselves.”

  A long time ago I played this joke on Colt. He was so pissed. It was a riot.

  For the next twenty minutes Sarah and I work on getting all the skid marks on the underwear. Once done, I fold them up so they won’t be able to tell. Since I know the boys usually dress in the dark, this will be perfect. At some point someone else is going to notice.

  When we’re finished, I have chocolate on my finger and stick it in her face. “Smell my finger. It’s poop.”

  She cowers across the room and squeals, playing around. “No, it’s not chocolate. It’s poop. Oh it smells so stinky.”

  I chase her around the house and tackle her on the coach to tickle her. One thing that’s great about Sarah is that she keeps our top secret missions under lock and key. I think she knows her mother would scold her for listening to anything I say.

  It took the twins three days to discover they were walking around with shit stains in their drawers. Since they insisted on wearing their pants below their ass, the underwear always stuck out. We were at church and a nice old lady came up and pointed it out to Miranda. She said, Cleanliness is Godliness.

  Right away they knew I was the culprit, but the damage was done. Females their age were cringing with disgust and I knew they’d never live it down. Jax went as far as to rub some of it and smell his finger. He was walking around asking people to smell it.

  Sarah must have been watching it all unfold, but I was too busy paying attention to the idiots asking our preacher to smell their fingers. Miranda didn’t talk to me for days. She’s was embarrassed. I’d even told the preacher what I’d done in hopes that it would help, but it didn’t matter. She was as mad as a disturbed hornet.

  That next Sunday night we were all gathered for a dinner. When the family is in from out of town we all eat together in the converted barn. We have a long table that seats everyone, except for the kids. They have their own table. We’re halfway through a ham dinner when Sarah comes up behind me with a smile plastered across her cute face. She sticks out her finger that has a brown tip. “Grandpa, smell my finger.” Assuming she’s playing the chocolate joke, I narrow in and take a whiff. She brings her finger closer and smashes it into my nostril. The next thing I know I’m running for the toilet with vomit shooting from my mouth. I swear I smelled it for days. No matter how many times I cleaned my face and nostril, it still lingered.

  It was shit. Real shit.

  The twins had put her up to it and her little sneaky ass went along with it. I still don’t know whose butt it came from. I don’t want to know, but I can tell ya that I’ve never ever played that prank on anyone ever again.

  Lesson learned

  Cocks and Balls

  Last year Miranda decided she wanted to distribute almost all of our tree ornaments to the kids. She wanted each of them to have the things they’d made through the years. The only ones she kept were red and gold bulbs, which left the tree looking a little plain for my tastes.

  I’m a Christmas Eve shopper through and through. I like watching the idiot people run around trying to get everyone on their lists at the last minute. In my defense I usually only to buy for less than four people. My parents and my wife. Miranda covered everything else, or we picked it up online.

  So it’s Christmas Eve and I venture out with Jake to finish our shopping. He wanted to buy Reese a bracelet so decided to tag along. We’re almost to one of those all year round holiday stores when a lightbulb goes off above my head. “Holy shit! I just got the best idea.”

  “Don’t do it,” he warned.

  “It’s nothing bad. Well, it doesn’t have to be,” I explain while chuckling to myself. “I just figured out what to add to the tree. Your mother will love it.”

  “Last time you said that, Mom spent three days at the cabin to get away from you.”

  In my defense it wasn’t totally my fault. Jax and I tried to do something nice. We were going to turn one of the kid’s old rooms into a hobby area for her. Maybe we should have asked before going through her things to move them. We ended up breaking two china dolls that her grandmother on her dad’s side had given her after she passed away. We didn’t even know we’d done it until I went to set them up. Having no clue, I put them on a shelf and left them with holes in their faces, thinking they were just really old and came like that.

  It was ugly. I felt terrible. Instead of doing her crafts, she went in there to cry. I wasn’t allowed in there after that. I rarely make an appearance or mention it. It’s just one of those things.

  Anyway, not to get off topic, I know I have to be careful when I get an idea. That’s why I always include her. “It will be farm themed. It’s fine.”

  “Farm themed? Don’t you think Mom gets tired of seeing animals and you smelling like shit every day?”

  “I’m not doing flowers or bows.”

  “Still, farm themed. Reese would kick my ass.”

  “You live in a house with white furniture. Or should I say you occupy a house with white furniture. You can’t exactly get comfortable when you’re worried about stains and crumbs, can you?”

  “We like it that way.”

  “Whatever floats your boat, son.”

  We leave the shop with two bags of ornaments that all go with the theme I’m shooting for. Upon arriving home I go to town filling the limbs with all of my new purchases. When Miranda walks in the room she crosses her arms and shakes her head. “I should have never let you talk me into this.”

  “What? You don’t like it?”

  “Chickens? You seriously decorated an entire tree in chickens?”

  Chuckling, and shaking my head, I correct her. “They’re cocks if you must know, and balls. Get it, Cocks and Balls.”

  She tosses her hands in the air. “I give up!”

  The decorations stayed. The were the hit of the holiday. I even took pictures and put them on the internet on Pinterest. If only other people could have my cool ideas and a tree full of Cocks and Balls.

  Dad walks over to me and hands me the binder full of stories I’d given him the day before.

  “So, what’d you think?”

  “I think you’re as demented as they come, but that there was funny as shit. You should have become a writer, son. I would have been a fan.”

  “Really?”

  He pats me on the shoulder. “Just so you know. I am proud of you. Always have been. I just don’t like telling ya on account of it going straight to your head, whichever one you happen to think with.”

  “Damn, that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

  “I look forward to next years stories.”

  “You’ll be the first to read them.”

  Thanks for reading part one of Ty’s Holiday Mishaps.

  Please enjoy a free version of last year’s family novella, Rockin’ Around the Mitchell Tree. Happy Holidays. – Jennifer Foor

  By: Jennifer Foor

  A Mitchell Family Series Novella

  Told by:

  Colt Mitchell

  Tyler Mitchell

  Conner Healy

  Jake Mitchell

  Jax, Mitchell

  Joshua Healy

  Intro:

  Colt sits in the old red recliner he’s specifically hung onto for this particular holiday. It’s become a tradition that after Conner dresses as Santa for all the grandchildren, Colt will tell the story, an altered version of the Night Before Christmas.

  Little wide eyes are staring at him, waiting for him to begin something they’ve all heard each year. They know that when the book reaches it’s last page, Santa is closer to coming.

  As always, each child, even the toddlers have filled up on sweets. They’re fighting the urge to bounce off the walls, but know Grandpa/Uncle Colt won’t tolerate shenanigans. He’s strict, but in a way where the children have learned to respect adults and others. He has a gentle soul, which is something every little one seems to know from the moment he first holds them in his hard working hands.

  His wife Savanna used real family pictures when making the hardback book years ago as a present, when Colt wanted to revise the original story to make it unique for his own family. The one of a kind book holds many years of memories. In the very back are empty pages of photograph slips, so that each year a new family photo can be placed and remembered for generations to come.

  The outside cover is a photograph of the original Mitchell Ranch, the front gate decorated in lavish garland and bows. Poinsettias are situated around the entrance, and topiaries line the way to the main farmhouse where a large nativity scene sits in the center of the circular driveway.

  The family stills goes all out for the holidays, but this will always be the first, the way Colt’s own father celebrated the blessed event, and where the traditions originated from. This is one of those stories.

  Chapter 1

  COLT

  We’ve been celebrating in the barn for years, especially since our homes can no longer fit all the children.

  In the past we’ve taken turns hosting, as our parents did when we were young. It’s tradition that we’re together, and an overpopulated room isn’t about to stop us. That’s why we built the entertainment barn, much like my cousins’ have in North Carolina. The upstairs is full of bunks with four extra bedrooms for the adults who want to stay closer to the children. A lot of times they will double up and use air mattresses to stay together. At night they’ll hang out, or get into a serious game of cards.

  The kids share one huge common space. Us older family members stay in our houses. When my cousins show up, they crash wherever they want. Conner usually takes his wife and stays at the house they grew up in on the ranch. Ty and Miranda sleep at my place. We don’t party as much as we did when we were younger. Age has graced us with the inability to hang out with the younger crew. I don’t mind it too much, because seeing the bright and curious eyes of my grandkids makes life fulfilling. We’ve been very blessed indeed.

  “Simmer down now. You know the rules. I won’t start reading until it’s quiet,” I announce while giving a stern eye to each of the wiggling children in the bunks surrounding me. I can already tell who will give me a hard time about listening. My grandchildren know I’ll correct them, while my great nieces and nephews are a bit more spoiled. Lots of little girls, too chatty and cute to correct without feeling guilty, and boys too rotten to know what to do with them. Besides, it’s Christmas. It’s about forgiving, and being thankful, but mostly appreciating life and the real reason for the season. My families’ faith has gotten us through many hardships. I’ve spent my life being a faithful servant to the Lord. I’ve learned to let the little things go in life because we never know when it’s our time to leave this place.

  I spot my still beautiful wife making her way into the room. She sits down on the side of the chair next to me and offers a smile. “Hey, darlin’. Is everyone else ready?” As soon as I ask I see the room filling up with the rest of the family.

  Ty claps his hands together, taking in the surroundings as he speaks. “Everyone better be quiet, or else the jolly old fat man will leave you piles of coal.”

  “Grandpa, stop it,” Sarah says from her bunk. She’s his oldest granddaughter, and is obviously familiar with his never ending sense of humor. Being almost twelve, she tries hard to voice her opinions and appear like she understands adults. The unknowing little girl still has so much to learn, but a ton of curiosity to guide her along the way. She asked if Santa was real, so we know this will probably be her last year of believing.

  “I’m telling the truth. I got coal a couple times. Ask Uncle Colt.”

  “Is it true, Granddad?” My little grandson, Spencer, Noah’s youngest boy worrisomely questions. He’s seven now, and those little green eyes remind me so much of his father it’s uncanny. Out of all my grandchildren, I think Spence already knows he wants to run the ranch one day. He enjoys spending time with his Daddy out in the fields working with the cattle. It makes me proud to know he’s raising those children the way his mother and I taught him to do.

  I think about Noah now, and how all these children’s parents are busy wrapping and preparing for the big Santa reveal in the morning. While we keep the little ones occupied, they can feel safe knowing the secrets will stay safe for another year.

  Still, with Ty’s inability to ever grow up, I’m stuck reassuring the children that they won’t be getting a stocking full of coal. “Now, now. Don’t believe a word he says. I know for a fact that everyone has been good this year. There won’t be any coal delivered tonight.”

  “Well Lex got in trouble for painting the kittens butts the other day. Do you think Santa knows?” Her twin Olivia responds with her own inquiry.

  I try not to chuckle, but glance at Ty to see him laughing behind his fist. His sons have passed on that gene we all wish would somehow miraculously fade away. They’re so damn ornery they can’t help themselves. We thought Jax having twin girls would give us some peace, but that Lex is a hand full. She cut her sister’s hair off not once, or twice, but three times now. Chopped it so badly it couldn’t be salvaged. She walked around with an almost bald spot last Easter. Her mother, Amber, was devastated. She tried to get her to keep a hat on, but the child was persistent and on the move too much for added accessories. Their little brother Michael is no better. The night before last, upon arriving at the ranch, he managed to tie up a hog and attempt to ride it around. That poor animal bucked him up against a fence, knocking half of one of his front teeth off. He tried to blame it on the hog, but the rope around it’s neck was a surefire giveaway. Olivia is more laid back, but not in a good way. She’s sneaky and she loves to tattletale. I shake my head at Olivia. “I don’t think Santa noticed.” If I don’t give them hope they’ll fight about who is getting more, and we really try to keep the gift giving as fair as possible that way no one has their feelings hurt.

  My niece Jade, who is Conner’s granddaughter, raises her hand. “Uncle Colt, last week Bacon started Daddy’s truck and drove it into the fence. Momma said Santa saw it.”

  I clench my jaw. Maybe it was a mistake to try to fool these kids. I’m out numbered. Her brother Joshua Jr., who everyone calls Bacon is a terror. He breaks everything and is extremely hyperactive. When he was little they had to put him in a helmet to keep him from hurting himself. He kept going up to the television and trying to climb it. They went through three that year, all of them breaking when they tumbled on top of the toddler, sending him to the hospital. The last one was actually bolted to the wall. He’s even wearing the helmet in some old photos, because taking it off risked another trip to the ER. Josh and Tamsyn really have their hands full with that one.

  “Jade, we all make bad choices sometimes. I’m sure Santa can overlook your brother’s actions one time.”

  She rolls her eyes. “He’s bad all the time. He doesn’t deserve presents.”

  “Don’t say that,” Sarah corrects her. “My dad says we shouldn’t talk about people.”

  “Well my dad says Bacon acts like an animal and he’s going to put him in the pasture with the cows,” Jade counters.

  I wave my hands around. “Girls, lets try not to worry so much about who has been good or bad. What if y’all get comfy in your beds and listen to the story? It’s getting late, and I wouldn’t want Santa to skip the ranch on account of you still being awake.”

  They quickly settle, and I’m glad, because I was about ready to hand Savanna the book and hightail it out.

  My lovely wife pats me on the shoulder, reminding me to smile even though it’s getting late. “Maybe you should just start.”

  I open the book to the first page and hear the flicker of something coming on. We’ve gotten pretty good at setting this up ahead. It’s an old time projector Ty has set up with classic family videos that begin to play against the wooden framed wall. It’s crooked, not that the kids care. Something else lights up the ceiling. It’s a light that makes it look like it’s snowing from above. The children scan the room for everything going on, as a gentle carol begins to play. Amy stands next to the machine adjusting the volume so my voice can be heard over it.

  I clear my throat, with butterflies of excitement tossing in my belly, and get right to it.

  “T’was the night before Christmas, and all through the barn, not a Mitchell child was stirring, nor a Healy or fire alarm. The stockings are hung by the chimney with care, in hopes that St Nicholas soon would be here.