It was Christmas Eve and the little boy looked through the window and saw them laughing. He took a step forward. Now he could see clearly. Tables covered with ambrosial food glistened as the dazzling rays of the sun stroke them gently. Shoes were dancing at the melody. The Christmas tree shone like the most expensive jewel, a jewel that costs gazillion euros. He took another step forward. Or, this is what he hoped for. His little red boots longed for the ground. But they couldn’t find anything. They went directly in the gap. He began falling, falling and falling. His tiny body scraped on tree branches full of mighty spikes, enemies that tried to kill him. He continued falling… Around him ...view middle of the document...
It stopped six years ago, in a Christmas that would change his whole life…
It was the 25th December, Christmas Day. He was sitting next to the fireplace alone, the phone in his hands. The battler, the cook and the two maids were there, but he felt alone. His parents were away for Christmas… again. The flames in the fireplace danced around wildly. What would he ask for Christmas this year? Hum hard decision! Not because he had to choose from many things that he wanted, but because he had everything. His own 103-inch plasma high resolution TV accompanied by giga-speakers that caused an earthquake when the volume was turned to its fullest, his own red Lamborghini with its chauffer for whenever he was too bored to drive. As for phone, well he had the latest model, which he would change immediately when another, better model came to the market. He always had what he wanted. “No” as a reply was as distant to him as poverty. He began thinking, thoughts flailing around. “Beep Beep… Beep Beep…” the phone disturbed his thoughts. It was one of his friends. They talked and talked and talked.
“Dude, are you coming tomorrow with us? We are going hunting,” his friend invited him.
“Um I don’t have a gun ,” he replied, quite embarrassed for not having something others did.
“Haha! That’s a good joke bro! Haha!”
“I am serious… I don’t have a gun.”
“Then buy one. Or ask your mummy and daddy to buy it to you… for the Christmas holidays. Or is the baby too afraid that it will get a booboo? ”
“I am not a baby. It is just that…”
He hesitated for a while. A gun? As a Christmas present? He had never thought of that. But, why not? Overall it was the only thing he never owned. The more he thought about it the more intrigued he was in the idea. He was a fish caught in the net. He closed the phone, after pulling out of his mouth a hushed “OK”.
Well, I will be cool. Everyone is going to admire me. And the ladies are sure going to love it. I’ll look like Chuck Norris. My cool-o-metre will boost to the galaxies. Tyrrell, Jayshaunn Jayreeque Tyrrell.
The door suddenly opened wide apart, as if someone bewitched it. A man, around his forties looking a bit like Don Quixote stood there. A child of Eiffel Tower, 2, 5 metres tall, with grey hairs decorating his nearly bald head. Next to him stood a tiny lady with a classical 60s hairstyle, quite chubby but very pretty. Together they looked like “The Fat and the Thin”. They were his parents that returned home. His mum rushed towards him and attacked him with her deadliest weapon, the air raid of kisses and the headlock, the suffocating hug. His mum was the reason he got whatever he could think of, but dad had the control of the money, unfortunately for him. He had to be strategic if he wanted to get the gun. Not that he truly wanted it. Our reputation must be protected with our lives: No good reputation could be life- destroying, especially in such age. First, the vicious monster had to lure the unprotected mother in his trap. ...