You’re a Mean One

Celia bustled inside, trailing a profusion of gift bags, tissue paper, and her husband John. His head was barely visible above a series of boxes. A cloud of chatter surrounded her.

“Can you believe those crowds? And the lines. I was only pointing out the lady behind us was closer than the floor sticker suggested. Can you believe how angry she got? Dump those by the tree, dear, would you? Mind the cat.” She sat her baggage down on the floor and collapsed into the nearby loveseat.

He joined her after depositing his own packaging, mute and frowning. He checked his phone. “The door was locked when you came in, wasn’t it? I didn’t get an alert on the security app.”

Celia had taken off one of her shoes and was massaging her foot. “Of course it was locked. Locked before we left and locked when we returned. Oh! Did that naughty cat get into the tree again and knock things over?” She hopped on one leg to inspect the tree, still holding her foot.

“No,” John said. “It’s that odd bottle of wine below the tree. Behind that yellow bag from the shop with the smelly soap.”

She sniffed and put her foot down, then pulled off her other shoe. “Can’t be wine.”

“Looks like wine.” John tapped his fingers on his knee. “Don’t know where it came from.”

Picking up the bottle, she studied the label. “You were right. Bright green, but wine it is. Who knew it came in pistachio flavor?”

A red bow snugged around the glass neck of the bottle, contrasting with the vibrant contents. “Looks like that cartoon guy. You know.” John hummed, dropping his voice to low rumble.

She snorted. “Well, after that – tart in the store, I’m in the mood to try some. Would you like a glass?”

“Of alcohol from mysterious origins that appeared in our home without explanation?” John raised an eyebrow and rubbed a clean-shaven jaw. “I think not. And don’t recommend you do, either. I’m going to take a look outside and see if I can figure out how it got here.”

Celia poohed and rolled her eyes, but set down the bottle on a nearby table. “I’ll get going on wrapping these, then.”

Ten minutes later, John returned. “Still can’t figure out how anyone got inside. The neighbors didn’t see anything – Celia?”

The tree was knocked over, ornaments smashed in a rainbow of vicious glitter shards. A fire burned merrily on the wall, the tip of the tree smoldering as unseasoned wood flickered with the beginnings of flame. The cat cowered from where it hid under the desk, covered in tinsel. Celia cackled, a package in her hands only briefly before smashing one of her purchases onto the floor.

She grinned at him. “Christmas is cancelled at last!” Laughter erupted from her throat in a crescendo, wild and eager.

A glass of green wine sat next to the open bottle, half-empty.

***

I’m not sure this grumpy story is quite where nother Mike’s prompt about unexpected wine should have gone, but I had fun writing it.

My MOTE prompt was a direct trade, and did he ever make the tomatoes wake up and rock on!