Carols
Erin wakes up the morning after their drunken eggnog party with a raging headache and a pillow clutched in her arms in place of her girlfriend. She blinks into the too-bright light of the firehouse.
“Morning, sunshine,” Abby says from her desk.
“Where’s Holtz?” Erin’s voice is croaky from sleep.
“Lab.” A pause. “You’re aware that you’re not wearing pants, right?”
Erin blushes. “Eggnog made me do it.”
“I specifically told you guys—”
“The instructions were unclear.”
“You weren’t that drunk, Erin!”
“I was pretty drunk,” Erin mumbles. “Have you seen my pants?”
“If you didn’t want to lose them, maybe you shouldn’t have taken them off, that’s all I’m saying.”
“Abby. It’s Christmas. Please?”
Abby is clearly smothering a laugh. “Try the freezer.”
“I’m going to kill you.”
“It was your girlfriend’s idea.”
Erin tugs her sweater down as she heads towards the kitchen. “No, it wasn’t. Nice try! She doesn’t prank me anymore.”
“You keep telling yourself that.”
She removes her pants from the freezer and leaves them on the counter to warm up, then heads to her locker to grab the stash of clean clothes there in case of ectoplasm emergencies. After she gets changed, she pours herself a cup of coffee and tries to will away her hangover. She goes to say good morning to Holtz briefly, then settles down at her desk for a quiet day of work.
It’s about 11:00am when it starts.
The music is quiet at first, but it usually is.
“On the 1st day of Christmas, my true love gave to me a partridge in a pear tree.”
Erin groans quietly.
“On the 2nd day of Christmas, my true love gave to me two turtle doves and a partridge in a pear tree.”
At this point, Holtz has started singing along and the music has turned up just a smidge.
“Why this song?” Patty says without looking up from her book.
“On the 3rd day of Christmas, my true love gave to me three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree.”
The music gets louder still. Erin rubs her temples.
“On the 4th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree.”
“Mr. True Love needs to realize that not everyone wants a hundred birds for Christmas,” Abby says.
“On the 5th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me FIVE GOLDEN RINGS…four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree.”
“Why do you assume it’s a Mr. True Love?” Erin asks.
“You think a woman would come up with a present that stupid?”
“On the 6th day of Christmas, my true love gave to me six geese-a-laying, FIVE GOLDEN RINGS…four calling birds, three French hens, two turtle doves, and a partridge in a pear tree.”
At this point, the music is loud enough that they have to talk above normal conversational volume.
“Shoulda stuck with the jewelry, man.”
“See, and the geese are all a-laying, which means there’s gonna be baby birds too. Imagine.” Abby shakes her head.
Erin squeezes her eyes shut.
“ON THE 7TH DAY OF CHRISTMAS MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME SEVEN SWANS-A-SWIMMING, SIX GEESE-A-LAYING, FIIIIVE GOLDEEEN RIIIINGS…FOUR CALLING BIRDS, THREE FRENCH HENS, TWO TURTLE DOVES, AND A PARTRIDGE IN A PEAR TREE.”
“Erin, make her stop.”
“What makes you think I can make her stop?”
“She’s your girlfriend!”
“ON THE 8TH DAY OF CHRISTMAS, MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME EIGHT MAIDS-A-MILKING, SEVEN SWANS-A-SWIMMING, SIX GEESE-A-LAYING, FIIIIVE GOLDEN RIIIIIIIIINGS…FOUR CALLING BIRDS, THREE FRENCH HENS, TWO TURTLE DOVES, AND A PARTRIDGE IN A PEAR TREE.”
“YOU CAN’T GIVE HUMANS AS GIFTS,” Patty shouts.
Abby is holding her head in her hands. “Make it stop.”
“Okay, you don’t get to complain, because there’s no way you have a hangover like I do right now.”
“ON THE 9TH DAY OF CHRISTMAS, MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME NINE LADIES DANCING, EIGHT MAIDS-A-MILKING, SEVEN SWANS-A-SWIMMING—”
“HOLTZ,” Erin shouts.
“—SIX GEESE-A-LAYING, FIIIIVE GOOOOLDEN RIIIIIIIIINGS…FOUR CALLING BIRDS, THREE FRENCH HENS, TWO TURTLE DOVES, AND A PARTRIDGE IN A PEAR TREEEEEEEE!”
“HEY, SUZIE-SINGS-A-LOT,” Abby calls, “I HOPE ONE OF THOSE GOLDEN RINGS IS FOR YOUR GIRLFRIEND, BECAUSE YOU’RE LOSIN’ HER. BETTER LOCK HER DOWN FAST.”
Erin throws a pen at Abby’s head and blushes.
“ON THE 10TH DAY OF CHRISTMAS, MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME TEN LORDS-A-LEAPING, NINE LADIES DANCING, EIGHT MAIDS-A-MILKING, SEVEN SWANS-A-SWIMMING, SIX GEESE-A-LAYING, FIIIIIIVE GOOOOLDEEEN RIIIIIIIIINGS…FOUR CALLING BIRDS, THREE FRENCH HENS, TWO TURTLE DOVES, AND A PARTRIDGE IN A PEAR TREEEEEEEE!”
“Lord have mercy. HOW LONG IS THIS SONG?” Patty gets up and strides over to the bottom of the stairs. “HOLTZY.”
“See, but the real question is: Does Mr. True Love give all these things every day in addition to what came before? Or does he only give the new items? Erin, help me out on the math on this.”
“ON THE 11TH DAY OF CHRISTMAS, MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME ELEVEN PIPERS PIPING, TEN LORDS-A-LEAPING, NINE LADIES DANCING, EIGHT MAIDS-A-MILKING, SEVEN SWANS-A-SWIMMING, SIX GEESE-A-LAYING, FIIIVE GOOOOLDEN RIIIIIIIIINGS…FOUR CALLING BIRDS, THREE FRENCH HENS, TWO TURTLE DOVES, AND A PARTRIDGE IN A PEAR TREEEE!”
Erin pinches the bridge of her nose. “There’s only one more verse, guys.”
“ON THE 12TH DAY OF CHRISTMAS, MY TRUE LOVE GAVE TO ME TWELVE DRUMMERS DRUMMING, ELEVEN PIPERS PIPING, TEN LORDS-A-LEAPING—”
“Erin, come on, are you making any headway on those numbers?”
“—NINE LADIES DANCING, EIGHT MAIDS-A-MILKING—”
“Really, Abby?”
“—SEVEN SWANS-A-SWIMMING, SIX GEESE-A-LAYING—”
“Humour me. How many total gifts, if each day he gave everything listed, not just the new item?”
“FIIIIIIIIIIIIIVE GOOOOLDEEEEEEN RIIIIIIIIIIIIIIINGS.”
“Three hundred and sixty four. Three hundred and sixty four gifts.”
“FOUR CALLING BIRDS—”
“How many birds in total?”
“—THREE FRENCH HENS, TWO TURTLE DOVES—”
“One hundred and eighty four. Not including potential babies from the geese.”
“—AND A PAAAARTRIDGE IN A PEAR TREEEEEEEEEE!”
Patty lets out a whistle. “That’s a lotta birds.”
“That’s what I’ve been saying!” Abby throws her hands up.
Erin points at the ceiling. “The song is over.”
“Thank baby Jesus. I was one maid-a-milking away from going up there and taking one of her lead pipes to the damn stereo.”
“I forgot what quiet sounds like,” Erin murmurs.
Less than two seconds later, a new song starts.
“Oh my God. Erin. Do something.”
“Why do I have to go? You have legs!”
“I repeat: She’s your girlfriend.”
“You’ve known her longer!”
Abby points at the stairs.
“Patty? Please? I have a massive headache already,” Erin pleads.
Patty lifts an eyebrow. “That’s your own damn fault. I didn’t ask y’all to drink all my liquor. You owe me. Go.”
With a resigning sigh that the others probably can’t hear over the music anyway, Erin stands from her desk and trudges upstairs. Up in the lab, the music is ear-splitting, and Erin is reminded just how much soundproofing Holtz has already installed.
She takes in the sight in front of her. Holtz is leaping and spinning around the lab pretending that the proton wand from the pack strapped to her back is a guitar and wailing along to that really intense sounding Christmas song that Erin always forgets the name of (the one that sounds like Christmas on steroids). Bells, something?
“HOLTZ,” she shouts.
Her girlfriend doesn’t seem to notice or hear her.
Erin tries again. Finally, she marches over to the stereo and shuts it off.
“DA NA NA NA, DA Na..na…oh.” Holtz looks surprised to see her. A little embarrassed-looking, she holsters the wand. “What’s up, buttercup?”
Erin chooses her words carefully. “While I really…appreciate…your festive spirit…I think the music might be a little loud.”
“Whaaaat?”
“I appreciate a good Christmas carol as much as the next person, but I also have a pretty bad headache. So…”
Holtz winces. “Ah, shit. From the music?”
Erin frowns. “No, from the…aren’t you hungover?”
“Holtzmanns don’t get hangovers,” Holtz scoffs.
“That…explains some things.”
“I’m sorry about the music, though. I thought you guys were just joking around about turning it off.”
“Wait, you could hear us?”
“Oh yeah. Holtzmanns have supersonic hearing.”
“Somehow I doubt that’s true.”
“Wouldn’t you like to know. Don’t worry, if I did have supersonic hearing, I would only use it to listen for the sound of reindeer hooves on the roof. And to find out what people really want for Christmas.”
Holtz stares with a half-smirk for a few moments, then winks in a very deliberate way.
Erin clues in. “Wait, Abby was kidding about...the five…uh. You know that, right? She didn’t…I mean I don’t…I mean…”
“Relax, sugarplum, I’m joking…I don’t really have supersonic hearing.”
“Oh.”
“I just have regular old great hearing. By the way, a hundred and eighty four birds is a lot of birds to be given in a span of less than two weeks. I’ve never thought about that before. Now I know what not to give my true love for Christmas.”
“I think maybe…nothing from that song should ever be given as gifts.”
“What, you don’t want ten lords-a-leaping under the Christmas tree this year?”
Erin laughs and gives her girlfriend a playful shove. “I’ll let you get back to work. Try to keep the music choices away from the loud or irritating songs, okay?”
Holtz shoots finger guns. “On it.”
Erin smiles and pats her arm, then heads back downstairs.
She gets halfway down when that godforsaken Chipmunks Christmas song starts playing. She can feel a vein in her forehead pulsing.
“Seriously?” she mutters under her breath.
“SORRY, ERIN,” Holtz hollers over the music. “HOW DO YOU FEEL ABOUT NEIL DIAMOND?”
The opening chords of the Jewish superstar's lively rendition of 'Joy to the World' cut in. Holtz begins singing along, and Erin can't help but laugh at the ridiculousness of it all.
“I tried,” she says when she reaches the bottom of the stairs.
“Poorly,” Abby replies.
“Let her have her fun,” Erin says with a smile. “It’s Christmas.”