A Christmas Eve Story
Posted: Monday, December 21, 2009
by Dianne Lehmann
Artisan Jewelry from SyZyGy
After that whole episode with the aliens ringing a doorbell that was disconnected (if you're curious, please see " Weird and Weirder "), Bernd and I decided that we might as well reconnect the darn thing because disconnecting it didn't really help at all. We did think that perhaps we should find some way to make it quieter. And also, we finally got tired of having to go to the post office to pick up packages when the woman who delivers our mail rings the nonfunctioning doorbell, thinks we are not home and takes the package away with her again.
Somewhere in between disconnecting and reconnecting the power to the doorbell (why is the transformer for it located in the garage, about as far away from it as you can get? Have doorbell transformers exploded in the past necessitating their placement outside of the house?), one of the springs lost all of its springiness and so the doorbell no longer rings "ding-dong," it just rings "ding." All of the testing sent our poor cat, Winnie, into hiding under our bed. That was the main reason for disconnecting it in the first place; it terrifies her when the doorbell rings. Apparently it wasn't the "dong" that was the problem.
Bernd and I aren't much into making a big deal out of holidays. Shoot, we're usually in bed by ten o'clock on New Year's Eve. So it was no surprise that we were both soundly asleep at 11:07 p.m. on Christmas Eve. Winnie was curled up beside me, as usual, and Bernd was snoring away, as usual, when the doorbell rang, "ding ding, ding, ding." Having just reconnected the darn thing earlier that day and having revisited the memory of the night it rang even though it was disconnected, I was a little reluctant to get up and go to the front door. Bernd kept right on snoring. I've mentioned previously that he sleeps with ear plugs in his ears. He has a very sensitive nervous system.
Just as I am about to decide that I dreamed of the doorbell ringing, it rang again, "ding-ding, ding-ding-ding." Winnie had left my side after the first ringing and so, heaving a big sigh, it was no trouble for me to roll out of bed and head, not without some trepidation, for the front door. Also, I had to admit that apparently she had heard it also. It's just not reasonable to assume that we were both dreaming the same dream right?
Why I was sneaking up on my own front door, I can't really explain. My hunched over, tiptoey method of getting to the front door took long enough that whoever was there saw fit to ring the thing again. Can a doorbell ringing have a questioning note to it? Well, that's how it seemed to me. So I thought, "Great. Whoever is there might just get impatient for me to answer and have left by the time I arrive at the door." No such luck.
I turned on the front lights oops! Reflex. Now they know that someone is home and awake. Rats! Experience has taught me that looking out of the vertical blinds covering the living room windows doesn't let me see much of the front stoop. Also, we have replaced all of our incandescent light bulbs with compact fluorescent bulbs. When they first come on they are fairly dim and get brighter as they warm up to peak operating temperature. So considering that it was below freezing outside, the lights took quite a while to warm up. Even so, I thought I caught a glimpse of something red.
The night the aliens came to visit, I said a quiet "Uh.Hi?" when I got to the door and on this occasion, I couldn't come up with anything better. Give me a break, my brain takes a couple minutes to get the revs up. Last time, my utterance was met with a repeat of what I had just said. This time there came a rather high pitched, "Ho, ho, ho," from the other side of the door. So then I was thinking, okay glimpse of red, ho, ho, ho no, I stopped believing in Santa Claus the night he came to visit while my sister and I were still awake. Sure, he rang the doorbell (we didn't have a fire place, unless you count those silly electric look alikes with the fan to blow the plastic around and a red light). Sure, he said "Ho, ho, ho." He had the suit and the white beard, but he sounded an awful like Rod, a friend of the family. Anyway, I was pretty sure that wasn't Santa on the other side of my door.
While I was standing there trying to decide what to do, "ho, ho, ho" came from outside once more. So I finally said, "Who's there?" The response might have made me laugh if it wasn't 11:10 p.m. and my feet weren't freezing on the laminate flooring (next house we buy will have radiant heating under the floor). The rather high, thin voice said, "I am Santa Claus and I have with me an elf. I have brought presents. Let us in."
When the last sentence was uttered, my heart skipped a beat. That was just what the aliens said last time and the voice sounded vaguely familiar. Still, I thought to myself, it hadn't ended badly last time (at least for me, can't know what the aliens thought). Maybe I should have a peek. So I opened the door. I know. I know. It's like in the horror flick when there is a noise in the basement and the silly teenager decides to go down there and see what it was. I'm always telling her, "No. No. Don't go down there. The monster will get you." Of course, I've already seen the monster and so I know what I'm talking about. She doesn't have a clue and she never listens.
I don't know what I thought I might see, but it certainly wasn't what I did. There was a tall, thin Santa standing there. He had the suit and the boots and the big black belt. He had the hat and the beard, but there was no twinkle in his big, solidly black eyes. The "elf" had the whole elf thing going as well, but was a little too tall (though shorter than "Santa") and thin to really pull it off. I started laughing. This caused them to both startle and take a step backwards. But they quickly stepped right back up to the security screen door, practically pressing their nearly non-existent noses against it. When I caught my breath, I said, "Oh, man. You've got to be kidding me. If you're Santa, I'm a donkey," in the hopes that it would completely flummox them and they would leave forthwith.
After my utterance, the pair turned to each other and stared silently for about five seconds, turned back to me and Santa said, "I am Santa Claus and this is my elf. I have brought presents. Let us in." At which point I said, "Again with the 'let us in.' I didn't let you in last time and I'm sure not going to let you in this time either." At this point I made an observation. Largish, external ears are really good for keeping our hats from sliding down over our eyes. Santa and his elf had no such help and were constantly pushing their hats back up to the tops of their heads with very long and skeletal looking fingers.
Eventually Santa said, "Everyone loves Santa Claus and welcomes him into their homes on this night." This started me thinking that they had certainly improved in the area of communication since their last visit. The delay between me talking and them replying was only about five seconds instead of ten and they seemed better able to cope with my use of colloquialisms. Darn. But why are they so desperate to get into my house?
So, feeling a little compassion, I mean they came all this way, I said, "I'm sorry, but I will not let you into my house. Heaven only knows what you will do once you are inside. Maybe you want to eat my face or barbeque my cat. I can't have any of that." In case you are wondering, the compassion part was my use of "I'm sorry." After I spoke, they turned toward each other once more and then turned back to me and Santa repeated, "I am Santa Claus and this is my elf. I have brought presents. Let us in." Obviously, I had seriously overrated the improvement in their conversational skills.
Then I said, "Okay. Fine. If you are Santa Claus, what are the names of all of your reindeer?" This caused them to have another silent face-to-face conference after which they turned abruptly around and walked away from my front door. Oh I should mention that I never saw any sign of any "presents." Neither did I see a sleigh, nor reindeer, nor spaceship. They must have parked it down the street.
Smiling to myself, I quietly closed the door. Once more I had triumphed; outwitted the wily face-eating, cat-barbequing aliens. Satisfied, I headed back to bed and fell quickly to sleep, it never having occurred to me that they might just come back in a fit of frustration and blast my house to pieces with their disintegrator ray guns. Luckily, that did not happen.
In the morning, I once again told Bernd of my newest encounter with aliens at the front door. Once again, he did not believe me. He told me (drum roll please) that I should write it up for SearchWarp again. Ta dah!
Oh yeah, in case you are wondering, the reindeer are: Dasher, Dancer, Prancer, Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, and Blitzen. I did that from memory no doubt here that I am human. Just don't ask me to name all of Snow White's dwarves.
Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!
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Top-level comments on this article: (4 total)Joking and writing about aliens will bring these telepathic elf like beings right to your door but rather than ringing doorbells they'll float right through them like ghosts do.You'll know when they are inside as their general demeanor is bullying and threatening and you'll feel creepy and anxious.Merry Xmas to all and to all a goodnight.Hi Paul.I thought about putting a note to you at the end of the story. I thought that if you read it, you might take offense. I don't know you all that well yet. I hope you didn't.I've often thought that I shouldn't think about such things too much for just this reason. But the rational side of me that me father struggled so to make dominant often says "poo poo."I hope you at least enjoyed it a little.Respectfully,DianneIt was wonderful and no poo poo.Paul Schroeder
Dianne, you are a wonderful story teller. Of course I had to go read Wierd and Wierder too. I kinda wish you'd let them or Santa and his Elf in, or all of the above. :)Hi Joyce.Thanks for the compliment. And you can never know what will happen ...Thanks for reading them both!Merry Christmas,Dianne
A really entertaining story. Merry christmas, now go write another one!Hi Anon.Thanks and that's my plan.Thanks for reading and commenting,Dianne
This was interesting-funny and uniquely individual
Hope they forgot your address this year, sounds like the kind of Christmas surprise one could do without!--Thanks Dianne- Always- EllaHi Ella.
I saw that you selected it for your Attic today. Thanks so much for that!
We haven't heard anything from them in quite a while, so we are thinking that we can sleep peacefully through the night. :)
Happy Christmas!
Hugs,
Dianne
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