Man…I’m dusty and exhausted, not to mention starving. But I’m finally here, at this waffle place everyone keeps talking about! Usually when I ask about it people say, “None of your business, Luke” or something like that. But this time I was determined to go, because I think I should tell people where Adam is, as he can’t be here himself, you know?
That’s right, it’s me, Lyle? I’m on Adam’s blogger account because he told me to go to this Christmas party and get the word out. We met on the internet or something and he’s like my hero now…anyway that’s why I told Mom I really wanted to go to the annual Christmas party this year.
Well, so much for that. I can’t believe they forgot about me AGAIN. They always leave me behind, always? And I end up having to spend Christmas with the Playground Hobo or at my Tae Kwon Do studio. This year I had to follow them all the way here to Texas just to be included.
I finally found them at a table toward the back of the cafe…
“Hey, son, you made it! Did you walk or something?”
“Yeah. Listen, there’s something I need to talk to you about–?”
“Look, Sandra, it’s Larry!”
“Oh,” she smiled, “Merry Christmas, young man.”
“No, Mom, it’s me, your son Lyle.”
“Oh, that’s right,” she said, “Want some waffles?
“No, Larry doesn’t like waffles,” Dad interjected, pushing the steaming plate away.
“Yes I do,” I started to say, but just then Claire jumped in.
“Like, yay! Waffles!” She said, and started to eat them. “Oh, hi, Barnaby.”
“Yeah, hi. Anyway, Dad, about Adam Monroe–“
“Son, don’t talk about things you don’t understand,” said Dad, wandering away.
So I kinda started mingling with the rest of the crowd, listening in on the other conversations and stuff?
“I wonder where Adam could be,” said one middle-aged guy with a bald spot.
“I know where he is,” I said.
“Yeah, wouldn’t he be here by now?” Said a blonde chick who kept sparking.
“He can’t come,” I said.
“Maybe he’s stuck in traffic,” the girl guessed.
“Would this Adam fellow be the four century year old Englishman we had previously discussed? Perhaps he neglected to reserve the date on his calender,” an Indian man joined in.
“No, he always remembers the Christmas party. I’ll bet he ran into trouble.”
“Something to do with the virus perhaps?”
“Ha, I wonder if that Asian chick finally caught up with him.”
“No, she didn’t,” I managed to butt in, “he’s trapped in a box somewhere in–“
“Oh, hi there, you must be Landon!”
I gave up. There was so much to keep me entertained, anyway, there was a fat Santa, a slightly creepier Santa lurking in a corner, a couple of gold statues, muffins, a Black guy, and I bet a bunch of people here have superpowers. As I sipped my egg nog, a waitress was electrocuted, and some emo dude ran sobbing at my sister with a butter knife.
I walked unobtrusively over to the tree and stood next to Mom, who was staring at all the pretty little lights.
“Want some egg nog?” I asked her. “It makes you feel all warm and tingly.”
“God, Lucas, you talk too much,” Said Claire from behind me.
“Shut up, Claire!”
“Oh, is that you, Louis?” Asked Mom, pulling me into a warm embrace. “Come look at these cute glowy things with me.”
Well, I guess this party isn’t too bad. I’m with family. This place is indoors. There are lots of presents around the Christmas tree. Who knows, maybe I’ll actually get one this year!
Love, Ly…sander? No, Lyle. It is Lyle, right?
OMG Barry, you are such and attention hog! Geez, why not let me have the spotlight, just for once?
Are you sure you aren’t called by the name of Loofah?
Hey kid. Kill yourself now, before two of your girlfriends die and/or get lost in a future that doesn’t exist and your sibling gets killed and…
Well, we’ll get into that tomorrow. God, this world is full of despair.
Peter!
Be a dear and go find Simon. I think Elle is talking to him.