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The Most Wonderful Time of the Year
This comedy has been specially written for the
lovely Jayne, who is a fan of Mart and Dan. I hope you enjoy it, my friend! “The
Most Wonderful Time of the Year” is a standalone story and doesn’t fit into
any particular universe. It had been many years
since Trixie and Honey’s adventure in Minnesota. The Bob-Whites had all grown
up, as teenagers are prone to do, and gone their separate ways to various
colleges on the East Coast. The girls were now juniors at NYU, while Jim and
Brian were doing their post-graduate work three-and-a-half hours away at Four years ago, Mart
had thought it was a wise decision to attend college in Piscataway, New
Jersey. He liked the charming town where he went to school, truly he did.
However, on this particular Christmas Eve morning, Mart Belden just wanted to
go home. Although Mart had been anxious to travel home the night before, he’d had a final exam in one of his evening classes and hadn’t returned to the apartment he shared with Dan until after 10:00 that night. Since it was only an hour-and-a-half drive to Sleepyside from Piscataway, they had decided to wait until morning to make the trek home. It had seemed like a good
idea at the time, but now Mart wasn’t so sure. He had to be in Sleepyside for Christmas Eve. If anything kept him
from going home… “Dan!” Mart bellowed
impatiently. “Aren’t you ready to go yet?” “I’m right here, Mart.”
Dan chuckled as he exited his bedroom, baggage in hand. “I know you’re anxious
to get back to Sleepyside, but there’s no need to holler. I’m handsome, not
deaf.” “Are you packed?” Mart
asked ignoring his friend’s attempt at humor. Dan held up his small
suitcase and shook it. “What do you call this?” “Smart aleck,” Mart muttered
with a roll of his eyes. “I’ve been packed since
last night,” Dan told him. “I kept hoping your chemistry final would be
canceled last night so we could get a head start.” “You and me both,” Mart
agreed. “I tried to finish the test early so we could drive home last night,
but there was no way; it was a killer. I just pray I got above an 80% on it.” “Don’t even try to kid
me, dude.” Dan assumed a wicked grin. “The only figure you’re interested in
is 36-24-36, which just happens to be waiting for you in Sleepyside.” “Hey, how do you know
Di’s measurements?” Mart demanded with feigned anger. Dan held up his hands in
surrender, pretending to cower out of Mart’s reach. “A lucky guess, I
promise!” “Lucky for you,” Mart
said with a sniff of importance. “So, do you have any presents here that need
to go to “Nope, they’re already in
Sleepyside. How ‘bout you?” “I left mine there, too,”
Mart answered. “Di was going to wrap them for me. Which reminds me…” He
stopped speaking suddenly and patted the inside pocket of his winter coat.
“Yep, I got everything.” Dan cocked an inquisitive
brow, but didn’t pry for details. “Well, I guess we’re ready to take off,
unless we want to have breakfast before we go.” “We can grab something on
the road.” Mart tipped his head in the direction of the door. “I just want to
get home.” Dan whistled through his
teeth. “What? Mart Belden, passing up the chance to eat? What’s the world
coming to?” He grinned at his friend’s insulted expression. “Did you warm up
the car? You know how delicate my baby-soft skin is.” “And have someone steal
my ride when I go back inside to get you?” Mart snorted in disbelief. “Forget
that!” “You would’ve warmed up
the car for Di,” Dan goaded. “Well, when you smell like a delightful mixture of
jasmine and sandalwood, have hands like a Swedish masseuse, and can fill out
a bra, we’ll talk.” Mart motioned towards the door. “Let’s hit the road.” The boys locked up their
apartment and walked down the long hallway to building’s entrance. They both
gasped as they stepped outdoors. Several inches of freshly fallen snow
covered the ground, completely coating the vehicles in the parking lot. The
storm didn’t appear to be slacking off, as millions of snowflakes were still
tumbling downward from angry-looking dark clouds. “Wow,” Dan muttered as he
beheld the virtual whiteout. “It’s snowing.” “Ya think?” Mart cracked
sarcastically. He led the way to his 80’s era sports car, which was parked in
one of the spots directly in front of the apartment complex. After brushing
the snow from the lock, he opened the trunk of the classic, sienna-brown
colored Camaro, and he and Dan placed their suitcases inside. Before he
slammed the trunk shut, Mart pulled out two ice scrapers. After tossing one
to Dan, he began brushing the precipitation off the windshield and then
scraping off the ice underneath. “Do you think we’ll be
able to make it home?” Dan asked doubtfully. Mart shrugged.
“Probably.” “Probably?”
Dan repeated, a critical brow arched. “Dude, I don’t want to be stranded
along the side of the road, especially on Christmas Eve. Will we make it or
not?” “We won’t be stranded. I need to get home, and Connie won’t let
me down.” Mart sighed wearily. “Have some faith in me.” “Oh, I have faith in you,” Dan retorted. “It’s just this
rear-wheel drive clunker of yours that I’m worried about. In the snow, this
stupid car isn’t any better than a sleigh.” Mart assumed a wounded
expression. “Don’t be dissing Connie Camaro, man.” He pounded on his
breastbone with his fist. “She’s a part of me.” Dan hooted with laughter
once his friend finished his passionate defense of his beloved automobile.
“Well, I suppose there is some
truth to that. Her gas tank’s always empty, and she’s absolutely worthless in
the snow.” “She can’t help it that
her big V-8 only gets eight-miles-per-gallon,” Mart said with a scowl. “I’ll tell you what. If
that old dinosaur of yours can get us to Sleepyside in one piece, then I’ll fill
up that honkin’ gas tank of hers on the way home.” “It’s a deal,” Mart
agreed. “And she’s not old; she’s a classic.” “A car has to be at least
twenty-years-old to be a classic,” Dan argued. “Well, Connie’s an ’85
model,” Mart retorted smartly, “so that means she is a classic, so ha!” “Why don’t you scrape
instead of gloat?” Dan suggested, motioning to the precipitation still
coating the windows. Once the car was
sufficiently rid of snow, the boys got inside. Mart put the key in the
ignition and turned it, but instead of the engine cranking, it merely
sputtered and died. “What’s wrong?” Dan
questioned warily. “Won’t she start?” “She’ll start,” Mart
insisted gruffly. “She’s just cold.” To prove his point, he turned the engine
again, but the car refused to come to life. “Oh, great,” Dan murmured
under his breath. “Stuck in “Shhh!” Mart hissed.
Instead of turning the key again, he took a moment to lovingly pat the
Camaro’s dashboard. “Dan didn’t mean it, Connie. Don’t let the mean man hurt
your feelings.” Dan huffed loudly,
shaking his head in disbelief. “Give me a break.” Mart shot a dirty look at
his friend before shifting his attention back to the task at hand. “I’d be
glad to,” he muttered, turning the key again. This time, the engine fired up
and the car rumbled loudly. “That’s what I’m talking
about!” Mart whooped triumphantly. He leaned over and kissed the steering
wheel. “That’s my girl.” Dan grinned. “It’s no
wonder Di’s jealous of this hunk of metal. Now how about some heat? I’m
freezing.” Mart hastily snapped on
the heater, as well as the defroster. Unfortunately, both Mart and Dan knew
that it would be several minutes until hot air began filtering out of the
vents. “On to Sleepyside, Jeeves,”
Dan commanded as he motioned forward, inadvertently pointing to the side of
the brick apartment complex. “How about we head in the
opposite direction and avoid hitting the building?” Mart shifted the engine
into reverse and gently put his foot on the gas pedal. However, instead of
going backwards, the car remained in the same spot. “Hmm… There must be a
layer of ice under all that snow that’s making her tires spin.” “Give it a little more
gas,” Dan suggested. Mart nodded and pushed
down a tad bit farther on the pedal. However, the additional fuel only served
to make the tires spin more quickly in the same spot. “We’re not going
anywhere,” Dan commented dryly as he looked out his window to observe chunks
of dirty snow flying up from the tires. “You’re not helping,”
Mart answered in a sing-song voice. He leaned down to rub the dashboard.
“C’mon, baby. C’mon.” He pushed the gas pedal down as far as it would go, but
except for fishtailing from side-to-side, the Camaro didn’t budge. Mart let
out a frustrated howl and banged his head against the steering wheel. “There’s no use wasting
gas, buddy,” Dan said in a consoling tone. “Shut her off and we’ll just wait
for the maintenance guy to scrape the parking lot.” “But that could take
hours.” Mart winced as he imagined being stranded in “Well, unless we’re
planning to walk there, we might as well go inside.” Dan thumped his best
friend on the back. “I’m sure it’ll blow over in a couple of hours. By then,
maintenance will have the parking lot scraped and salted, and you’ll make it
home before Moms gets dinner on the table.” Mart exhaled noisily, his
sandy brow wrinkled with worry. “I guess you’re right. I’d better go call
Di.” “I assume you’ll also be
calling the woman who gave birth to you?” Dan inquired with a cheeky grin. After blowing a raspberry
at his friend, Mart vacated the now-warm vehicle. He opened the trunk and
pulled out his suitcase, and Dan quickly followed suit. “We could’ve just left
our luggage loaded since we’ll be leaving in a couple hours anyway,” Mart
said in an afterthought once he’d slammed the trunk closed. Dan gazed upward at the
dark, swirling clouds in the sky. It was on the tip of his tongue to say that
he doubted they’d be going anywhere that night, but he decided to keep that
thought to himself. “Might as well take them
in now,” Dan hedged, wondering how on earth they would ever get home in time
for Christmas.
“Moms?” On the other phone line,
Helen Belden gasped in relief. “Oh, Mart! I just tried to call you ten
minutes ago! I was afraid I’d missed you and that you’d already left!” “I did leave, but my car got stuck,” Mart informed her glumly. “Where?” Helen asked, her
voice frantic with fear. “Is it on the highway? Did you wreck on the ice? Is
it in a ditch?” Mart couldn’t hold back
his annoyed groan. For some reason, it irritated him greatly that his mother
was worried he had been in an accident, when in reality, he hadn’t even been
able to get onto the main road. “Connie’s stuck in our
apartment’s parking lot,” he answered tersely. “She won’t budge an inch.” Helen breathed another
sigh of relief. “Mart, your father and I tried to tell you that that sports
car wouldn’t do well in the snow,” she couldn’t resist lecturing. He slowly released a
loud, labored sigh. “Moms, could you hold off on the ‘I told you so’ lecture
until I’m in Sleepyside?” “I’m sorry, dear,” his
mother apologized. “I’m just worried about you, and you know how I get when I
fret.” “I know how you get.”
Mart rolled his eyes in exasperation, thanking God that Brian was the
recipient of the Johnson Worrywart gene. “Moms, do you think someone could
come and get me and Dan?” “Sweetheart, I-95 is
closed because of the snowstorm,” she reluctantly told him. “The bad weather
caught everyone off guard. I heard on the news that crews are frantically
working on it now, trying to get the interstate cleaned off for all the
holiday traffic.” “All weathermen are
stupid and should be sentenced to live in “What was that, son?” “Nothing,” Mart said with
a rueful shake of his head. “How are we supposed to get home?” “I’m afraid you’ll be
stranded there until the roads reopen,” Helen answered gently. “I’m sure
you’ll be home, safe and sound, by Christmas morning.” “But what about Christmas
Eve?” Mart hated the plaintive quality in his voice. “I kinda had plans…” “Diana will understand
that you can’t escort her to the Christmas concert tonight,” she said in a
vain attempt to console her middle son. Mart closed his eyes
tightly, not wanting to witness his carefully made plans being shattered
before him. “Yeah, I guess she will,” he finally choked out. “Don’t worry,
sweetheart,” his mother replied warmly. “It’ll all work out. You and Dan stay
put. As soon as the interstate opens back up, we’ll send the cavalry for
you.” “Okay,” Mart agreed with
a heavy sigh. “Son, you’d better call
Diana,” Helen suggested. “She was expecting you to pick her up at “Actually, I called her
before I called you,” he admitted. “But that was before I found out the roads
were closed…” Miles away in Sleepyside,
Helen Belden smiled. It was obvious her little, towheaded boy was growing up;
she was no longer the most important lady in Mart’s life. She found that
thought incredibly bittersweet. “I’m glad you called her,
sweetie,” Helen told him. “She would’ve worried sick about you. You should
probably call her again, though. She may not know that I-95 has been
temporarily closed.” “Could you do it for me,
Moms?” he requested in a tight voice. “I don’t want her to know how
disappointed I am.” “Of course I will,
sweetheart,” Helen promised, glad her son still needed her. “Now don’t you
worry. I’m sure the roads will be clear in no time. We’ll call you before we
leave.” “Okay,” Mart muttered
without much enthusiasm. “I’ll talk to you later, Moms. Love you.” “I love you, too, son.” Mart hung up the
telephone, a frown marring his handsome features. “Is it that bad?” Dan
inquired weakly. Mart nodded, his blue
eyes stormy. “The turnpike’s closed. Even if I could get Connie out of the
parking lot, we still couldn’t make it to Sleepyside.” “What’re we going to do?” “Wait for the cavalry,”
Mart replied flatly. “Hope they’re wearing
snowshoes,” Dan commented as he opened the blinds and peeked outside at the
falling snow. Mart exhaled noisily,
purposely ignoring Dan’s statement. “Well, now that my Christmas Eve is
officially ruined, I’d better find something to eat.” Dan studied his best
friend quizzically. Mart rarely allowed anything to rain on his parade, so he
found the middle Belden boy’s behavior quite perplexing. Mart, unaware of Dan’s
scrutiny, walked the short distance from the small living room to the even
smaller kitchenette, and began pilfering through the cabinets. “Great, our
cupboards are emptier than Old Mother Hubbard’s.” Dan shrugged his
shoulders. “We weren’t going to go grocery shopping until we got home from
break. Remember?” “What were we thinking?”
Mart exclaimed, his tone forlorn. “I’m starving, and we don’t have anything
to eat.” “Sure we do.” Dan pointed
to a few items in the cabinet. “Why, there’s a ton of stuff in here. A couple
cans of tomato soup, a box of macaroni and cheese, a half a loaf of bread,
two cans of tuna…” Mart snarled his nose in
distaste. “But you have to cook all
that junk. I wanted some snack cakes or maybe some Pop Tarts. Besides, you
don’t eat tuna for breakfast unless you meow and use a litter box.” “We finished off the junk
food yesterday.” Dan pulled down a box of Frosted Flakes. “How ‘bout some
cereal?” “Do we have milk?” Dan opened the
refrigerator, ignoring the mysterious funky smell that had been lingering
inside ever since they moved into the apartment three years ago. He pulled
out a jug of milk, checked the expiration date, and handed it to Mart. “I
think it’s safe.” “With my luck, it’s
probably chunky.” With great apprehension, Mart opened the milk and took a
sniff. “It’s good,” he declared in surprise. He opened another cupboard and
found a mixing bowl, in which he poured a heaping mound of cereal. Before he
added the milk, he spied one banana on the counter. He reached out to grab
it. “Hey!” Dan yelled. “That
banana’s mine.” “I don’t see your name
written on it.” Mart made a show of carefully examining the yellow peel.
“Unless your name is Chiquita, that is.” “There were six bananas
in the bunch we got at the store,” Dan explained. “You ate three of them, and
I ate two, which means that that
banana is mine.” “You knew we were leaving
for Sleepyside this morning,” Mart commented. “If you wanted this banana so
bad, why did you leave it here?” “Maybe I was saving it for when we got back.” “It would’ve turned black
by then,” Mart informed him grumpily. “If you aren’t going to eat it for
breakfast, can I have it with my cereal?” “For your information, I
was saving it until this evening,” Dan retorted. “But we were supposed to
be in Sleepyside this evening.” “Maybe I’m psychic and
knew we’d be stuck here until New Year’s.” Dan grinned because it was obvious
he had struck a nerve with that comment. “Are you going to eat the
banana for breakfast or not?” Mart questioned wearily. “I prefer to have cereal
in the evening as a snack.” Dan began shuffling through the cabinets again
and yanked out a can of Spam. “I’d rather have potted meat for breakfast.
I’ll be having cereal with banana for my Christmas dinner.” “Knock yourself out,”
Mart huffed, waving a hand in resignation. He poured milk on his Frosted
Flakes, and then carried his breakfast into the living room. After taking a
huge bite, he found the television remote and hit the power button. He
quickly flipped it on the Weather Channel, in hopes that he’d receive news
about a sudden heat wave moving into their area. Unfortunately, the right
side of the A few minutes later, Dan
joined his friend on the couch, a plate of buttered of toast in his hands. Mart glanced over at him
in between bites. “What happened to your potted meat?” “I decided I was in the
mood for toast,” Dan said with a sheepish grin. The two munched in
not-so-companionable silence. It was Dan who finally spoke first. “So, is our
cable out, or is this a documentary on static?” Mart merely tossed a
scowl over his shoulder, only removing the foul look long enough to take a
bite of cereal. “How ‘bout we declare a
truce?” Dan suggested. “If we’re going to spend Christmas Eve here, we might
as well make the best of it.” “I don’t want to make the best of it,” was
Mart’s clipped response. “I want to go home so I can take Di to the Christmas
concert in the park tonight.” “I don’t see why you’re
so anxious to hear some symphony play,” Dan commented with a raise of his
eyebrows. “Especially considering the concert’s going to be outside, in the
freezing cold and snowy weather.” “Sometimes you’re willing
to sacrifice balmy temperatures so you can have the privilege of listening to
such a fine musical presentation.” “I had no idea you were
such a fan of music without words,” Dan answered, his words laced with a
touch of cynicism. “I also like books without pictures,” Mart shot back testily. “Do
you have a problem with that?” Dan just shook his head.
“No, but I have a problem believing that all of a sudden you’ve gone from
Stone Sour to the Philadelphia Philharmonic.” He observed his friend through
narrowed eyes. “There’s something you aren’t telling me.” Mart’s face clouded over
just as quickly as the sky had last night. “I was going to… I had a surprise
ready for Di at the concert,” he finally admitted. “I’m just upset that
everything’s going to be ruined.” “I’m sorry, man,” Dan
said with genuine sympathy. “I’m sure it’ll all work out.” “Thanks,” Mart murmured,
his broad shoulders drooping. “So, how about calling
that truce? I know we’re both bummed about being stuck here, but it shouldn’t
ruin our holiday.” Mart nodded in agreement.
“I guess you’re right. I’m sorry for being such a jerk. I’m just disappointed
about everything and took it out on you.” “Me too, dude.” Dan’s
dark brow knit together thoughtfully. “You know, we could… Oh, never mind.
It’s a stupid idea.” “What?” Mart prompted.
“My calendar’s been wiped clean for the day. I have time to listen to a
crummy idea or two.” “We could have Christmas here,” Dan offered. “I mean, the holiday
isn’t canceled just because we’re stuck in New Jersey.” Mart pondered his
friend’s suggestion. “Yeah, that might be fun. But it’ll be hard to get in
the holiday spirit without any decorations.” “We can decorate,” Dan insisted. “How hard could it be?” “What’re we going to use
for a Christmas tree?” Mart questioned wryly. “I don’t think the campus would
be very happy if we went out and chopped down an evergreen.” Dan grinned, undeterred
by his friend’s lack of enthusiasm. “We’ll think of something.” “But our presents are in
Sleepyside.” “I’m sure we could scrape
up a gift or two.” Dan punched Mart in the arm. “Besides, Christmas isn’t
about expensive presents or decorations.” “I know, but…” “C’mon, it’ll be fun,”
Dan cajoled. “It’s better than sitting around pouting. We could even scrape
together a bountiful feast!” “A bountiful feast, eh?”
Mart cocked his head pensively as he mulled the possibilities. “All right,
I’m in. But since this is your idea, you get to handle all the planning.” “That’s fair enough,” Dan
agreed. “You take care of the decorating, and I’ll handle the cooking. Okay?” “Okay.” As hard as he
tried, Mart couldn’t match Dan’s enthusiasm. “You just wait, Mart,”
Dan remarked as he hopped up from the couch. “This’ll be the best Christmas
ever. After all, it is the most
wonderful time of the year.” Mart watched as his
friend raced into the kitchen. Although Mart wanted to be excited about Dan’s
plans, all he could think about was the Christmas concert he was supposed to
attend with Diana, as well as the special song he knew the orchestra would be
playing. He sighed sorrowfully. “The most wonderful time
of the year,” he mumbled. “Not as long as I’m stuck in
Mart furrowed his brow as
he shook the sticky strip of red construction paper off his finger, wiping
the glue residue on his jeans. Gritting his teeth, he picked up the would-be
link to his paper chain and tried again to hook it onto the yellow one on the
end. Once the ends of the red construction paper successfully stuck together
forming an O, he let out a triumphant war whoop. The garland could finally be
added to their “tree”. In lieu of the
traditional pine or spruce, Mart had chosen a more original species to serve as their symbol of the holiday season—
the coat tree. After dumped the many jackets that had collected on the coat
tree’s “branches” onto the floor, he had dragged it to the middle of the
living room. For a tree skirt, he located a green tablecloth that someone had
mistakenly thought he and Dan would put to good use on a tabletop. A pack of construction
paper that had been leftover from an English project had proven to be quite
helpful. Although he was not as artistic as his girlfriend, he managed to
sketch a believable star on a piece of yellow paper, which would serve as
their tree topper. Pictures of the Bob-Whites (the majority of which
strangely only featured Diana Lynch) were taped on the oak coat tree as
ornaments. His spirits lifted
considerably, Mart hummed the traditional Christmas tune, “O Christmas Tree”,
while he wound the paper chain garland around the coat tree. After moving
around some of the “ornaments” to fill in the empty spots, he stood back and
appraised his work. “Not half bad,” he
murmured appreciatively. A loud racket coming from
the kitchen drew Mart’s attention from the tree. “I’m okay,” Dan called in a
harried voice. “Do you need some help in
there?” “I’m okay!” Dan repeated. Now that their tree was
trimmed, Mart focused on the rest of the living room. On top of their
battered coffee table, he placed the two large candles which he and Dan lit
during power outages. Since the candles were blue, he wound red construction
paper around one, and green around the other. Using several sheets of
typing paper, he decided his next project would be to make snowflakes and
hang them from their ceiling. Although “making snowflakes” wasn’t exactly the
manliest thing a guy in college could do, Mart resolved to take a bullet for
the cause and be crafty. It had taken a few tries
for Mart to create a decent-looking likeness of a snow crystal because, after
all, he hadn’t made a snowflake since elementary school. However, once he
began his task, he found it difficult to quit. Soon the floor was littered
with almost as many snowflakes as there were outside. He decided it was time to
quit when he wished he had some glitter. Another loud clatter
echoed from the kitchen. “I’m okay… mostly!” Dan rushed out of the kitchen
with a wet paper towel wrapped around his right index finger. He bounded into
the bathroom and came back out five minutes later, a Band-Aid replacing the
paper towel. “I’m not going to find
your severed fingertip in my food, am I?” Mart inquired, cocking one sandy
brow. Dan shook his head. “Nah,
I just got burned.” For the first time, he noticed the festive décor around
him. “Hey, you did a great job, Mart. The place looks awesome!” “Thanks,” Mart replied,
beaming with pride. “Cool tree.” Dan nodded
in appreciation. “And those snowflakes look good.” “You don’t think I
overdid it?” Dan looked up at the
ceiling. Or rather, the hundreds of paper snowflakes which now blocked the
ceiling from view. “Of course not! Those big water stains on the ceiling
weren’t very festive. I’m glad we can’t see them now.” “What do you think about
the candles?” “Very nice,” Dan
murmured. “A bit of a fire hazard, but festive nonetheless.” Mart inhaled deeply. In
spite of years of practice sniffing food, he couldn’t quite determine the
identity of the source of the aroma. “Something smells good in the kitchen.
Is dinner ready?” “Uh-huh,” Dan answered.
“Do you want to eat now? It’s past time for lunch.” “I’m always ready to
eat,” Mart remarked with a pat of his stomach. “You go ahead and sit
down, and I’ll bring you some lunch.” Mart sat down at their
tiny two-person table as the chef bustled around the kitchen preparing
plates. With a flourish, Dan plunked a dish laden with a variety of
delicacies in front of Mart. “Wow,” Mart proclaimed,
hoping he sounded truly pleased. “You really outdid yourself, Dan. I’m not
sure where to start.” “I’d recommend the
macaroni and cheese with tuna,” Dan offered. “It was made with the cheese
sauce in a can, not that crappy powder stuff. Only the best for our holiday
feast!” Mart nodded thoughtfully
as he scooped up some with his fork. “I can tell,” he said in what he hoped
would be an appreciative tone. Gingerly, he took a bite, trying not to wince.
“Cheesy.” “My secret is that I
added some spray cheese to it,” Dan told him. “Now try the Beanie Weanies.” “I can’t wait!” Mart
pretended that the baked bean/hot dog concoction on his plate was Moms’
spiral-sliced ham as he forked some into his mouth. Once he’d swallowed, he
mustered a smile. “Yummy.” “Don’t you think the chili
powder adds a kick to it?” “Definitely,” Mart
gasped, reaching for his drink. “What do you think about
the creamed corn?” Mart stared down
quizzically at the third food item on his plate. “I don’t remember ever
buying creamed corn.” With great trepidation, he scooped up some and put it
in his mouth just as Dan began to speak. “It was here when we
moved in. But canned goods don’t go bad, right?” Thankfully, there was a
napkin close at hand. Mart grabbed it and spit the foul-tasting substance out
of his mouth. Dan’s dark brows knotted
in a deep groove above the bridge of his nose as he studied his own puddle of
the vegetable in question. “At least I think
it was creamed corn. The label was missing, but it looked like creamed corn when I dumped it out of the can.” After taking a huge swig
of his cola, Mart broke the news as gently as possible. “It didn’t taste like creamed corn. In fact, the
only thing I can compare it to is that worm I ate in first grade.” “Well, there’s lots of
other stuff for us to eat,” Dan said congenially. “And don’t forget to save
room for dessert!” Mart’s intestinal tract
quivered with fear. “What’s for dessert?” Dan leaned forward in a
conspiratorial manner. “Cherry and lime Jell-O. Very festive.” Mart breathed a sigh of
relief. Surely nobody could ruin Jell-O. “And just wait until you
try it!” Dan exclaimed proudly. “You’ll never guess what secret ingredient I
used.” Mart made a mental note
to make sure the can of tomato soup was still in the cupboard before he tried
Dan’s dessert. “Dig in!” Dan pointed to
his friend’s food. “Once you clean your plate, we’ll open presents.” “What about the creamed
corn?” “Well, you’d probably
better leave that. I’m not sure if we could make it to the Emergency Room in
this weather.”
For the first time in his
entire life, Mart breathed a sigh of relief when his plate was nearly empty.
Only the mysterious lumps of toxic vegetation remained, and thankfully he
wasn’t required to eat those. As the boys moved to the
couch to exchange gifts, Mart peeked outside. “Well, it stopped snowing.” “That’s good.” Dan
pointed to the telephone. “Maybe you could try to call home.” Mart nodded and quickly
dialed the number to Crabapple Farm. After a few moments, he sadly hung up
the receiver. “The phone lines are down.” “Oh, man,” Dan murmured
in disappointment. “But that isn’t a surprise, really. The slightest thing
brings down those lines. It doesn’t mean that the storm’s worse in
Sleepyside.” “Yeah,” was all Mart
could manage to say. “Present time!” Dan,
determined to cheer up his friend, reached under the coat tree and produced
an odd-shaped package which was wrapped in a page torn from Sports
Illustrated magazine. He plopped the gift into Mart’s lap. “Hope you like it,
buddy!” Mart stared down at the
boomerang-shaped present. “Gee, I wonder what this is.” He tore the paper
away to reveal a banana. “Thanks, Dan,” he said with a genuine smile. “I
thought you were going to eat this later?” “You like bananas better
than I do,” Dan told him. “Besides, it’s better to give than to receive,
right?” “I shall treasure this
forever,” Mart announced grandly. “Well, at least until I put it in my cereal
tomorrow morning, that is,” he added with a sheepish grin. “Now it’s your
turn.” Mart pawed around in the
make-do tree skirt until he pulled out an envelope. “Merry Christmas, Dan,”
he said as he handed it to his friend. Dan grinned as he slit
the top and pulled out a strip of paper. “ ‘I, Martin Andrew Belden’,” he
read out loud, “ ‘being of relatively sound mind and rockin’ bod, do hereby
grant my boon companion, one Daniel William Mangan, the usage of my esteemed
automobile for his New Year’s date with the beauteous Jayne Muir.’ ” “Turn it over,” Mart told
him, stifling a smile. Dan did as his friend
requested, and then continued reading. “ ‘Disclaimer: If the aforementioned
Daniel William Mangan puts one scratch on said automobile, Martin Andrew
Belden will be allotted proper restitution. Such restitution includes: a
tenth of all Mr. Mangan’s worldly goods, Mr. Mangan’s firstborn child, a lung
or kidney if needed…’ ” “That’s fair, don’t you
think?” Mart inquired with an impish grin. Dan chuckled heartily. “I
promise to treat Connie with the utmost respect,” he vowed. “Thanks for
letting me borrow your wheels, dude.” “It’s the least I could
do,” Mart told him. “What do you want to do
now?” Mart shrugged his
shoulders. “I don’t know. I thought someone would be here to pick us up by
now. It’s almost “Maybe we’ll still make
it home by morn—” “I need to be home by
this evening,” Mart interrupted. “If I don’t make it back to Sleepyside by
then, I might as well not go home at all.” Dan rolled his eyes to
show his impatience. “I daresay life will go on if you miss that stupid
concert, Mart.” “You don’t know how
important ‘that stupid concert’ is to me!”
“Yeah, because you
haven’t shared that information with me!” Dan shot back testily. With a weary sigh, Mart
bounded from the sofa and grabbed his winter coat from the pile of jackets on
the floor. He pulled out something from the pocket, and then tossed the
object to Dan. “Open it.” Dan lifted the top of the
small black jeweler’s box. He gasped in surprise as he beheld the
princess-cut diamond ring nestled inside. “Oh, Mart. This is all so sudden…” Mart tossed the coat he
was still holding at his smart-alecky buddy. “It’s not for you, you nitwit.
It’s for Di.” “I kinda figured that
out,” Dan said wryly. “So is this
why you’re so anxious to get back to Sleepyside?” Mart nodded glumly as he
sat back down. “You don’t have to be at
the concert to ask her,” Dan pointed out. “I’m sure Di would say yes, no
matter where you popped the question.” “But I had it all planned
out,” Mart explained. “The orchestra was going to perform Christmas songs
from all over the world. One of the numbers on their playlist was written by
an Irish singer who Di really likes. Some guy named Paddy Noonan.” “What was the song?” Dan
closed the box and set it on the coffee table. “ ‘Will You Marry Me for
Christmas?’,” Mart answered. “It would’ve been the perfect moment to propose.
She loves listening to the symphony, and I thought it’d be a romantic
setting, under the starry sky.” He looked over warily at Dan. “You’re going
to make fun of me now, aren’t you?” “I wouldn’t do that,
Mart.” Dan placed a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I think Di would’ve been
touched by all the care you’d taken.” “Thanks.” “So, how were you going
to word your proposal?” Dan inquired. Mart grinned. “Actually,
I hadn’t decided on anything yet.” Dan clutched his heart
dramatically and gasped in surprise. “What? The eloquent Sleepyside
Shakespeare doesn’t know what to say to his beloved?” “Absurd, isn’t it?” Mart
chuckled. “But this isn’t spouting off wisecracks. This is asking the woman I
love to spend the rest of her life with me.” “Well, you’re going to
have to say something,” Dan
commented. “You can’t just stick the ring under her nose. She’ll be expecting
a fancy speech.” With a snap of his
fingers, Mart mumbled, “Curse my reputation for eloquence.” “If you want to, you can
practice on me,” Dan suggested. “After all, I am known as the master of romance.” Mart’s eyebrows shot up
in surprise. “What do you mean?” “Pretend I’m Diana, and
propose to me.” Dan waggled his own brows. “I promise not to shoot you down
too harshly.” “You aren’t going to
secretly tape this and send it into ‘ “Of course not!” Dan
insisted. “I just thought I could help.” “Well, I guess I don’t
have anything better to do,” Mart reluctantly agreed. “Let’s get this over
with.” Dan began flipping his
shaggy black hair as well as he could, and blinking his eyes repeatedly. “What in the name of all
that’s holy are you doing?” Mart demanded. “Getting into character,”
Dan replied, with a roll of his eyes. “Haven’t you ever seen Di flip her hair
and bat her eyes?” “Oh, brother,” Mart
murmured under his breath. “What have I gotten myself into?” “I’m ready,” Dan told
him. “Let the games begin.” Mart cleared his throat.
“Diana?” “Yeeees, my cute widdle
stud muffin?” Dan drawled out in a falsetto voice. Mart groaned loudly.
“Don’t talk like that! You don’t sound like Di; you just sound stupid!” “You called me stupid!”
Dan retorted, still speaking in his high-pitched voice. He buried his face in
his hands and pretended to weep. “If you don’t ask me to marry you soon, I’m
going to eat chocolate and cry all day.” Gritting his teeth, Mart
began his speech again. “Diana, for years I have stood in awe of your
pulchritudinous form—” He was interrupted by a loud buzzer sound coming from
Dan. “Ding, ding, ding! Wrong
answer!” Dan cried in his regular voice. “Dude, ditch all the fancy words and
speak to her from your heart.” With a sigh of
resignation, Mart silently acknowledged Dan was correct and started over.
“Di, I can’t live without you—” Once again the buzzer
interrupted him. “Wrong answer!” Dan interjected. “Avoid any hints of death.
It makes you sound like a stalker.” Mart nodded, easily
seeing the logic in Dan’s words. “Okay, I think I’ve thought of something sure
to get a yes out of Di.” He cleared his throat and then spoke in an earnest
voice. “Diana, oh my love, my darling, I’ve hungered for your touch a long,
lonely time. And time goes by, so slo—” Dan gave the buzzer sound
again. “Nice try, but no song lyrics allowed. Your proposal should be
original, not some Righteous Brothers knockoff.” “You’re right,” Mart
grumbled. “This is harder than I thought it would be. How do you tell someone
that she’s more important to you than the oxygen you breathe in?” “You just tell her
exactly what you told me just now,” Dan advised. Mart took a deep breath,
and then plunged forward. “Diana, ever since I saw you for the first time, I
knew you were the girl for me. Of course, you were covered in peanut butter
and jelly, but when I was six, I thought that was a good thing. Anyway, I
love you with all my heart, and I promise to love you that way forever, if
you only say you’ll marry me.” “Oh, Mart!” Dan
exclaimed, once again using his falsetto voice. “I thought you’d never ask!”
Before Mart could blink an eye, Dan cupped his friend’s cheeks in his hands
and planted a chaste kiss on Mart’s cheek. “Hey!” Mart yelled,
frantically trying to rub off Dan’s germs. “What’d you do that for?” Dan laughed heartily
until tears gathered in his eyes. “Sorry, dude. I couldn’t resist.” “Gross,” Mart mumbled,
still wiping the tainted area with his shirtsleeve. “I can’t believe you did
that. Now I’ve got man-germs.” “At least I didn’t kiss
your mouth,” Dan pointed out through chuckles. “If it makes you feel any
better, that speech was a winner. I guarantee that Di will be putty in your
hands.” Before Mart could
respond, there was a loud knock at their door. “Oh, great,” he muttered.
“That’s probably the neighbors upstairs complaining about the noise again.”
However, when he opened the door, he was greeted by five familiar faces. “Merry Christmas!” Brian,
Jim, Trixie, Honey, and Di chorused. Di pushed her way through
her friends and leaped into her boyfriend’s arms. “Oh, Mart! I’m so glad the
interstate finally reopened! I was so afraid that you’d be stranded here
until after Christmas!” “How did you get here?”
Mart murmured in surprise, kissing her hair. “Daddy let Jim drive his
Ford Excursion,” Di told him. “He couldn’t bear the thought of hearing me cry
on Christmas Eve.” “Actually,” Trixie
corrected with a saucy grin, “Mr. Lynch just got sick of listening to her
whine.” “That might be true,
too,” Di agreed with a giggle. “Your dad’s such a great
guy,” Mart said. “A-hem?” Jim cleared his
throat. “And what about the guy who risked life and limb to drive the Excursion over 70 miles on
slick roads to get here, and will be driving an additional 70 miles to take
you home?” “He’s a great guy, too,”
Mart replied with a sheepish grin. “Thanks, Jim,” Dan added.
Honey looked around at
Mart and Dan’s apartment. “My goodness! What festive holiday decorations!” Brian stared curiously at
their impromptu Christmas tree. “Why are our pictures stuck to your coat
tree?” “I think that’s their
Christmas tree, silly,” Honey told him. Trixie took a deep
breath, and then immediately wrinkled her nose. “Ugh. What’s that smell?” “That was our Christmas dinner,” Mart informed them. “Dan made
it.” “Oh.” Trixie hoped her
face wasn’t as red as it felt. “It sure smells yummy, Dan.” “We have leftovers, if
anyone’s hungry on the ride home,” Dan offered. “No!” six voices chorused
at once. “Daddy doesn’t like for
us to bring food in his new SUV,” Di quickly added. “Well, it’s a “Need help carrying
anything out?” Brian asked. “I think we’ve got it,”
Mart said. “You all go on outside, and Dan and I will be there in a minute.” “Okay,” Jim agreed. “We’ll
be waiting for you in the car.” “Hurry,” Di urged as she
followed the other four Bob-Whites out the door. Dan glanced towards the
kitchen. “I made a huge mess in there.” “We’ll clean it up after
break,” Mart told him. “With the two of us scraping and scrubbing, it won’t
take long. And if that mac and cheese is caked on our dishes like cement…
Well, we can always throw them away and buy paper plates.” “Okay,” Dan agreed,
grinning. He bent down, picked something up from the table, and then tossed
it to Mart. “Don’t forget this. You might need it tonight.” Mart looked down at the
ring box he now held. “Thanks. It might’ve put a hitch in my plans if I
didn’t have this at the concert.” He quickly put it back in his coat pocket. “Well, I guess we’d
better hit the road.” Dan picked up his suitcase. “I guess so.” But instead
of picking up his bag, Mart placed his hand on Dan’s shoulder. “You know,
this Christmas Eve wasn’t half bad.” “Only because we’re
finally going home,” Dan snorted. “No, that’s not it,” Mart
disagreed. After a long pause, he added, “It’s because I was with my best
friend in the whole world. Thanks for cheering me up, buddy.” “Hey, that’s what friends
are for, dude,” Dan told him with a shrug. “Does this mean I’ve got the best
man gig in the bag?” Mart laughed. “Could
there be any better man?” “Not really.” Dan blew on
his fingernails and brushed them against his shirt. Mart laughed and thumped
Dan on the back. “Even if you’re stranded in “And don’t forget, this best friend is also the best
man,” Dan added with a grin. “He certainly is,” Mart
summarized. As he followed Dan
outside, Mart thanked the heavens above for his many blessings. A good
family, good friends, good health… It was enough to make every day feel like
the most wonderful time of the year.
Merry Christmas from AprilW and The Cameo, Jayne! You weren’t
picky at all about requesting what you wanted, so that made my task a bit
more daunting. I peeked at your profile and saw that Dan and Mart were your
favorite Bob-Whites, and since I enjoy writing for them so much, I decided
this feature would focus on them. I hope you enjoyed this (as well as your
cameo at The Cameo!), and may your Christmas be full of love, peace, and
happiness. Thank you ever so much to the lovely Steph H, who edited this
story. Steph is my usual editor, and she volunteered to edit all the
Christmas exchange stories. What a gal! Not only did she do a terrific job
looking over this, she is a wonderful cheerleader and friend. I love you,
Steph! {{{hugs}}} The title of this story comes from the song, “It’s the Most
Wonderful Time of the Year”, was written by Eddie Pola and George Wyle in
1963, and has been sung by many artists. Mart’s car (the sienna-brown Camaro affectionately dubbed
“Connie”) is based on the car Damon had when we began dating. Okay… She’s a
complete knockoff, all right? For the record, I was very jealous of Connie,
and she did totally suck in the snow. Soon after we married, one of Connie’s
tires (ONE, mind you!) was on ice, and she wouldn’t go anywhere. Needless to say,
the next winter we had a Jeep Cherokee. Interstate 95 is the actual highway between Pop Tarts and Frosted Flakes are real foods that taste good. Buy
some today. Spam is potted meat. I don’t recommend it, but of course, I’ve
never tried it. But I can recommend
the Weird Al song about it. According to Steph H’s
husband, the band Stone Sour is very popular with the college crowd. Hey,
that was good enough for me. Damon is very against Mart making snowflakes for any reason.
Although I saw his logic, there were just too many funny lines for me to
merit cutting it. So just pretend that Mart protested loudly before filming
that scene, okay? Yes, people do put tuna in macaroni and cheese. However, I do
not. I find it very gross, although opinions may vary. And the thought of
adding spray cheese to it… *gag* Beanie Weanies are another real food that I don’t particularly
find appealing. Again, opinions may vary… No comment on what the mystery vegetable was. Jell-O is a popular brand name gelatin. Buy it because there’s
always room for it. Unless it’s made with tomato soup, that is. *wink* Sports Illustrated is a popular magazine most often read by men,
which contains articles about sports. Most likely, the page used to wrap
Mart’s banana was not from the swimsuit issue, because I seriously doubt that
Dan would’ve desecrated something he found so precious. For the record, I am
against the swimsuit issue and wonder what it has to do with sports. J “Will You Marry Me for Christmas” is a real Irish Christmas song
by Paddy Noonan. I reserve the right to use this title in another story
because I find it so awesome! *G* “America’s Funniest Home Videos” is a show where people make
absolute fools of themselves on videotape, and then America gets to view the
tapes while sad, out-of-work comedians do horrible voice-overs in the
background. If you’d like to make something to be shown on this show (if it’s
still on, that is), hit a man in the crotch and send it in to the producers.
It will be an instant hit! The Righteous Brothers song that Mart quoted in the proposal
nixed by Dan is “Unchained Melody”. I gave Mr. Lynch a Ford Excursion… just for Steph! Smoochies to
you, my darling Ford Fanatic!
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