The First Day of Christmas

It was the first day of the twelve days before Christmas. Outside, the air was crisp and cool and clear, and the leaves were changing and falling off the trees. The expected highs were in the scant 70s.

California was finally in the throes of winter.

I was tra-la-la-ing as I sashayed through the house, hanging stockings with care, and lights by the chimney, and all that lovely Christmasy stuff. I put Handel's Messiah on the stereo, and made some hot chocolate. I pulled my copy of Dickens' A Christmas Carol off the shelf, settled into an overstuffed chair, and flipped open to the first page.

I had just gotten past "The Marleys were dead to begin with" when suddenly, the doorbell rang.

"Oh it must be my true love!" I cried. I ran to the door, threw it open, and found myself face to face with... A pair of beady little eyes, a sharp little beak, and a fluffing of feathers.

"L-Leo!!" I screamed.

"Surprise!" shouted my true love's voice, and he jumped out from behind the leafy branches of the pear tree in which the malevolent avian creature was sitting.

"Um," I said. "Sweetheart. Shmoopie pie. Would you mind explaining just WHAT THIS IS?"

He beamed. "It's a partridge in a pear tree! I saw it and instantly thought of you."

I glared at him. "Thanks a lot."

"Who's Leo, by the way?"

"Er, nobody. Just someone I used to know."

The bird turned its head to blink at me with one of its eyes, and I couldn't help but notice the grim resemblance to the cowgirl's evil demon-cockatiel, who had supposedly passed away a couple months ago. As if to confirm my suspicions that reincarnation might, after all, be a tenable theory, the partridge opened its beak and gave a loud HISSSSSS! I jumped back.

"Oh he likes you," said my true love, grinning. "I can see you guys are going to get along great."

Inside the house, the Hallelujah chorus began thundering through the loudspeakers. I stomped to the stereo and shut it off. Behind me, my true love was hauling the tree and its seething occupant into my living room.

"WHAT ARE YOU DOING!" I shrieked. "The bird stays outside!"

My true love looked pained. "My darling frogg princess, you can't mean it. It's cold out there. He might die!"

I bit my lip. "Yes, that would be a terrible shame," I said, staring at the bird as very unChristmaslike visions danced through my head.

"He'll be fine right here by the fireplace. He'll sit in the tree, and keep you company!" My (clueless) true love pecked me on the cheek and dashed to the door. "Sorry, gotta run, but I'll be back tomorrow...!"

"Yeah, well, why don't you see if some jewelry might make you think of me next time! Or a ski lift ticket!! OR A SPA VACATION!!!" I called after him, but he was already out the door...