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RUB39-11
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1994-11-24
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Copyright 1994(c)
A RUBY CHRISTMAS
Ruby tapped her forehead, and thought.
The fact was, all the good Christmas parodies had been done.
Last year, she'd done Miracle on 17th Street and Kent had done It's
a Wonderful Life, II. The year before, she'd held the annual
snowflake pageant for which she'd kidnapped Dave Barry and put him
in a tu-tu. Aside from The Chipmunks, there was nothing left.
"No pageant, this year?" asked Del. "I'm sure Mr. Barry will
be delighted to hear that."
"I got no ideas," said Ruby.
"And I know I'm very happy to hear that," said Del.
The Freemans waited, but nothing untoward happened. Ruby was
seen hustling packages into the house, but she wrapped them all and
placed them beneath the tree. There were no kidnappings in the
news, and Del and David began to breathe easier.
"She'll do something," David insisted.
"I don't think she's got time," said Del. "Between her new
truck stop on the information superhighway and all the Christmas
shopping she's doing, she doesn't have a spare minute."
"Who's paying for that Christmas shopping, anyway?" asked
David.
"That depends on how many credit cards you're supposed to have
and how many you can actually account for," said Del.
"That's the only good thing about having her steal them,"
David said. "Our creditors can put a limit on her, even if we
can't."
Ruby behaved perfectly normally as Christmas approached, and
Del and David woke Christmas morning to the first in a sparse few
of calm holidays since the advent of Ruby in their lives.
They had breakfast, opened presents and ooh'ed and ah'ed,
noticeably absent the troublesome Ruby.
"Where do you think she is?" Del asked.
"When will you learn an attitude of gratitude?" he asked.
"You're right. Thank you, God," Del murmured. "Imagine if I'd
had to pretend to like that sequined frog-purse she gave me.
Honestly, when Ruby buys somebody else a present, why does she
always shop for Ruby?"
"I don't know, but I don't think I'll ever wear this hot-pink
lycra necktie, either," said David.
They heard a fram, fram, fram, at the door.
"Open up or I'll huff and I'll puff and you won't like 'da
name'a dat tune," hollered a familiar voice from the doorstep.
"You've got your fantasties mixed up, haven't you?" David
asked as he opened the door.
"I done told you all the good parodies has been done," snapped
Ruby, "now hand it over," she demanded, holding out a large, red
sack.
"Who are you supposed to be?" asked Del, eyeing Ruby's ski
mask and the cat-burglar black of her outfit.
"I'm the Christmas Grunch," said Ruby. "Dump all your presents
in here and fork over your cash, too."
"Or, what?" asked David.
"Or I stay," said Ruby. "AND I sing The Little Drummer Boy."
"Deal," said David, scooping up his loot and tossing it in the
sack.
"You plan to take this act on the road?" asked Del, dropping
her presents into the bag.
"Only where I'm known," said Ruby.
"That should be a real thrill for the literary scholars of the
electronic community," said Del.
"The Whos?" asked Ruby.
"Them, too."
END