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Christmas 101 and a Half

PG for now

Keith is teaching Carson the meaning of Christmas.  Lesson One---Shop till you drop.

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Baast started it, I swear.

She pattered around us constantly now, with the bouncy, overcharged aspect of an anime neko.  She rubbed Carson's ankles, darted over to whack at an errant butterfly, then ran back to roll at my boy's feet.  I couldn't quite understand why she purred at Carson and gave ME attitude.  She'd hailed me as wizard, for one thing! And though Carson was aware of her presence, I think he SAW her only in fits and starts.  But anyone who tries to comprehend a cat's logic, well, he's lost the war from the get-go.

Still. I just cracked up when she said curtly, "Wizard, you are very strong.  But I suggest you learn to control your pets!"

Now a feline of all creatures saying something like that---well, maybe only the cat-owned will understand the cruel irony.  But in this case she had a small point, this being after about the tenth butterfly.

My magic was out of control.

Shopping was the main reason, of course, why I ducked into one of my favorite stores.  I needed to wipe out the taste that Gump's had left in my mouth.  It was sorta like the metallic nastiness left over when you're dumb enough to take a swig of diet soda because you're out of the real, sugary stuff.  Yeh, it had turned out kinda groovy and I'd made a new friend, but that was almost accidental; the store itself had been Asswipe Central.

Now, Cost Plus was certifiably a fun store, and I intended to have some!  Fun, I mean.  And I also wanted to show Carse what *real* Christmas shopping could be like, with a guy like me let loose without a budget.

But also, the outside world was a little scary at the moment. My cat girl had nailed it; I needed some downtime just to get a grip.

"Outside" San Francisco seemed to hone in on the fledgling magic in me, and amplify it to the max.  The air out there danced around my body in a thousand stained-glass patterns.  I seemed to taste music and exhale butterflies at every breath.

Now that may sound all Disney theme park and far-out-man, and I'm the first to admit that I sometimes pay handsomely for just such effects. Trouble was---all this didn't seem quite as illusionary as I woulda liked.

I mean, shimmering colors in the air are very groovy and attractive viewing for the stoned audience.  But I was far from stoned, more alert than I'd ever been in fact, and every so often these dazzling sheets of fire and flowers would just snap over and wrap around my eyeballs like artistic Saran wrap.  Carson had to grab my arm a few times when I tripped over my own feet and nearly fell in the gutter due to this crap.  Fortunately a run of quick blinks cleared my sight until the next assault; if I'd been seeing nothing but kaleidoscope images permanently I'd damn sure be panicking and throwing fits.

With the butterflies added in, I very nearly was anyway.

These little jewel-colored buggers were also semi-real, and wheezing them out my mouth and nose *hurt*.  Accidentally gasping in surprise and re-inhaling them felt like breathing cotton candy.  Not much substance, just enough to sting.  Baast offed a few of them just being a cat, but there were legions more.

I choked and hacked and went "Ptooey, ptooey!" like someone spitting in a cartoon show.  Bits of foil-bright wings spewed forth in hundreds of jellybean colors.  "Get outta my fuckin' lungs, you free-loaders!" I roared, and that seemed to stun the flock; they hesitated, then gave me up as a lost cause and pinwheeled away across Market Street.  I was staggering around by now like I was on a three-day drunk; I probably woulda landed right on my keister without the support of my goth muscle-boy.

I wondered what he was thinking of all this.  As if in answer, he hugged me hard.  He knew what was going on; he'd given me the computer games, after all.  Support was there, in spades.  He knew I wasn't loaded, at least not in the usual sense.  Maybe he didn't see all, but he knew most.  And would believe in me no matter what happened.

I didn't know where that came from.  Maybe we wouldn't even need it, till later.  But it warmed me to my bones, I tell ya.

And speaking of drunk! Just then a crew of bums near the Burger King turned into Smurfs, and started cussing and beaning passersby with cartoon fruit that had begun life as beer cans.

Yup, I knew this feeling---not to mention the images---from acid trips. But there were two significant differences here.

Number one of course, I hadn't gobbled any drug that would start this up, and for some reason that made me feel outta control to the max.  I hadn't CHOSEN to experience this by stupidly popping a grungy bit of paper in my mouth.  So I had no kind of fix on how far it would go or for how long, not even a dingy doper's estimate.

And number two, it also seemed as if *other* people got antsy around me, just on the verge of seeing what I saw and mighty nervous about it without knowing why.  A few, mostly kids, stared at me in awe.  Normally this would make me strive to be even more entertaining; for the moment, though, it was all too much to handle.  Especially since I wasn't sure why I seemed so fascinating to others on the street.

Oh, and three.  This all seemed a bit too solid.  Much as I told myself I was just inside a really good special effect, it was fairly disconcerting overall.  I had a feeling like, not that I couldn't tell the difference between reality and fantasy.  It was more like it *all* was real; it just boiled down to perception and choice thereof.

I winced as some of the Smurf fruit bounced off a grouchy-looking shopper's noggin.  She didn't notice (did that mean it didn't really happen?) but the Smurfs chortled and one of the smallest ran over to her, bent down, and peeked up her skirt. "Blue unicorns!" he caroled triumphantly, looking me straight in the eye and grinning.  "Can't judge a girl by her expression, I guess!"

Omigawd, did this stuff go on around us all the time and we were just too blind to notice?

Kinda cool, actually!  I grinned back at the Smurf-bum, then choked a bit---no, what was I thinking here?  It was sensory overload, was what!

Just then the Cost Plus sign swirled into view, and I hustled Carson into "my" store to take a breather.  Not sure why I knew indoors would be safer, but it was so.

In 1999, Cost Plus wasn't quite as cool as it was in the '80's before the tourists took it over.  But although the prices inflated as the selection shrunk, it was still an excellent shopping place for anything you could imagine, and some things that you couldn't.  You could get wicker trunks, samurai swords, elephant-foot trash cans, 200 varieties of incense and bells shaped like cats' head (Baast insisted I throw a few of those into the cart my boy was pushing).  You could get various flavors of syrups to put in your coffee, as well as the coffee itself from diverse countries.  And you better believe that at least five nation's worth of caffeine were in that cart almost instantly.

We accidentally detoured into the incense row, due to Carson's unfamiliarity with the store, but that was no problem; I just started loading up on that product too.  I like incense, much to George's allergic dismay.  I'd just never had enough bucks to go crazy before.  Now I was demented.  Carson looked on bemusedly as I threw handfuls of sticks, cones and coils into the shrinking area of the cart, but his eyebrow didn't really elevate until I began struggling with a fat elephant-headed statue that was nearly big as I was.  Hindu, I think it was.  It had eight arms and a platter on its lap to hold the goodies; I'd never seen anything so tacky in my life and I was determined to have it.  "C'mon, Ravenstreet; a littleoof!--help here!  This bitch is heavy."  Expensive too, but that was part of its charm to me now.

"I've created a monster," Carse observed, somewhat rudely I thought, but he did step forward to help.  Baast sat invisibly out of harm's way, giggling as we wrestled my new toy into submission.  "Will it fit in your flat, or must your manager rebuild?"  Carson was definitely dissing me, but I noticed the pleasure in his smile; the sight was enough to make me even crazier and more power-mad.  I informed him tartly that it was going in the garden and went on shopping.

Magic still splashed around me in this smaller area, but it was more like a gentle lapping pool than a big, crashing ocean wave.  I could think and see normally again, with a little effort.  And believe it or not, normal thought could be a relief at times like this.  Normal thoughts such as---hey, I got a few thousand bucks here instead of my usual nineteen dollars and ninety-five cents!

Magic?  Pooey, it can wait. I didn't want Carson to think I wasn't appreciating his generosity.  First---burn a big hole through the excess cash!  Then worry about Smurfs and stuff.

Though I was very democratic as I roared about the place, my main goal was the candy counter at back of the store.  The stuff here was mostly specialty, fancy truffles and nut mixtures sans peanuts.  And sure as shit, there was Darlene behind the counter, sneaking a bite of her own product as she awaited customers.  I swooped on her and she jumped guiltily before realizing who it was.

"Shit, Mr. McIntyre, scared me to death!"  Even two years out of my class she still called me Mister; made me feel a bit old usually, but nothing could age me today.  "Lessee, half a pound of salted almonds and what kinda truffle today?"

"If your memory'd been that good in Ancient History, Darla, you might of passed the class."

"Like I told you then, no Ancient History gonna help me in the real world."

"Speaking of that, how's Kenny?"

She blossomed, eyes glowing as she bagged the nuts.  "Growin' like a weed.  You gotta come see him now he's walkin'."

"Maybe I will." I watched her grin cagily at me as she added another unweighed quarter pound to my nut purchase, as usual.   She'd been 16 and pregnant, one of the students I couldn't save for the school but managed to hold onto for a friend.  "By the way, you might wanna up my order; came into kind of a windfall."  I made a mental note to drag Carson to Toys R Us to grab a present for Darlene's rugrat.

"You?  Money?  And first thing you think of is spend it here?  No wonder you never get ahead.  Well, what's your pleasure?"  She waited for me to order nuts by the pound or add a couple truffles to my usual malted milk indulgence.

"I don't wanna be greedy---geeez.  Okay, five pounds of every variety of nut you got.  And oh, truffles---" I glanced back at Carson, who had moved back some to give me shopping room.  He was obviously a little startled that I was so chummy with a clerk, too!  My boy was a bit of a snob, to be honest.

I'd re-discovered that although his diet in general was insanely sparse and boring, he did have a monster sweet-tooth that he struggled uselessly to control.  Dig it, he'd come in one night, hanging his head and shooting me nervous looks. I'd been a little freaked out, sure that he'd changed his mind about our relationship and was gonna tell me Sorry, but he was heading back to the East Coast.  I mean, I expected this on an hourly basis so what the fuck.

Then he made his big confession. Turned out he'd devoured an entire box of Ho-Ho's he found in a drawer while looking for silverware; he acted like he expected me to paddle him for it.

I laughed until he looked more ready to strangle me than apologize any more. And then I punished him most severely for stealing the treat I'd forgotten all about. That was one of the make-out sessions that actually had George pounding on the wall and begging us to finish already and let him get some goddamn sleep!
"I DO need more chocolate than usual for some damn reason.  Well, you got about ten varieties of truffle---gimmee three each, we can always come back for more.  Or fill it out with cheaper stuff----"

She recovered from damn near toppling off her little stool, and hopped to her feet, pacing up to eye me like a jungle cat.  "MISTER McIntyre, I'm a workin' girl.  I got no time for this shit from you today!"

"Wounding me deeply here.  Next she'll be calling me a honky and yellin' for security," I informed Carson sadly.  He scowled uncertainly, not yet used to my notions of playing where other people were concerned.

Darlene ignored my remarks save for one sarcastic snort, and eyed me up and down.  "You dressed just as tacky as ever, how do I know? Although you DO seem to sparkle a lot.  Been to the costuming shop too, I bet, dumping glitter on y'self; Halloween's over, I hope you know!"  I tried to look as innocent as was possible for me.  Darla was a very down-to-earth gal; if she saw something strange in my appearance, the normal San Fran fruitcake would be seeing an Ent or something. "I hope you won the lottery," she continued in the insulting manner of good friends everywhere.  "'Cause you sure ain't got brains to rob no bank.  Show me the cash before I waste my time baggin' this up."

"Think I'd try to cheat you?  You outweigh me by forty pounds, woman!"  I showed her Carson's wad of money self-righteously.  She shook her head in disbelief, but I saw the grin struggling to break through her scowl as she began to package my order.  "Better set aside a truffle or two for the rugrat, my treat."

"Oh, no, I know better than to spoil a baby with this stuff before he even has all his teeth yet.  I'll eat a couple myself just to please you though, and since I'm glad you got good fortune finally."  She cocked a curious dark eye Carson's way; he was pretending to study a rack of flavored wines a few rows down.  Baast was serenely rubbing her head against his ankles, and his usually pale color looked a little high.  I wondered belatedly if he was just as uncomfortable in my type of haunts as I was in his.

"He a relative?" Darlene "whispered" in inquiry.  Carson's blush deepened, as a couple of shoppers turned to study him with interest.

Now, what should I say here?

Believe me, I bloody well didn't care what anyone including Darla thought of what me and Carson *did*.   And we didn't do as much as I wanted come to that!  Still, I had no idea what she felt about two guys in the sack, and from what I remembered her family at least was ultra-religious.  But we had history, and I didn't wanna upset her.  At least not at her work, where she'd be liable to roar out her opinions and get her ass fired!

But she'd asked about our relationship.  And truly, I was unsure of that one myself.

Me and Darla never boinked or anything, but we were pretty tight nonetheless.  When she'd decided to leave high school because of a college boyfriend knocking her up I'd told her in very blunt terms she was making a mistake.  She'd stared at me and actually managed to say something that stunned me for an instant.  "Mr. McIntyre---you are the best teacher I ever had.  But you not black.  Don't judge what black people do."

"You calling me prejudiced?"  I was more than astonished.  She started laughing herself at the very idea, but I was already insulted.  "Hey look, lady, I may not know black folk that well.  But black, yellow, red, green or fucking purple people eater, I know an asshole when I see one!  They come in every color, and your friend Dwayne is as puckered as anyone I ever encountered!"

She'd hopped a mile and told me off, as she had every right to I guess.

"Fuck you! Dwayne loves me, he'll be a good father for my baby and you a stupid fucker, Mr. McIntyre!"  Well, I guess being called "mister" and "stupid fucker" in one sentence cancelled each other out, right?  Well maybe not quite.

I was briefly nonplussed when she showed up at my door a few weeks later, roughly the size of a killer whale and asking for a place to stay because Mr. Kool had wanted no part of the pregnancy scene. Plus, she discovered he had five other girlfriends on the side---surprise, surprise! as Gomer Pyle would say. I coulda told her that, if she'd been inclined to listen past "He's an asshole."

She'd dumped him rather than the other way around and I was proud of that, but her dad had temporarily blown his cork and thrown her ass outta the house.  But I was kinda happy.  Not because she was in trouble or that I'd been right, but that she'd chosen to seek help from me---that rocked, to have someone's trust like that.  Even better that she hadn't chosen to hang tough and go down the tubes on her own.

Four months of barfing black female and sly innuendos from George kinda soured my enthusiasm, but the end result had been worth it.  Kenny was a helluva kid.  And thank the stars, once her dad was a grandparent all was forgiven.  She moved back in with him while seeking a pad, and I was relieved of responsibility except as godfather---a cool movie title that swelled my head a little, I admit.

But since then Darlene had taken an interest in my love life that bordered on nosy.  She wanted me to find a woman "good enough" for me, and had been loud in her disapproval of Vicky, my fiancée.  My occasional boinks including Lori hadn't impressed her much either.  And now here was Carson, the boy who'd brought me back to my magic self.  Someone I knew from---before.

My mind tried to kite, and I chopped it down brutally before it could fly.   Yet still the thought came.

Arthur. King of legend he'd been and still was, needing only the nervous wizard's help to rule the world.  Under my wings.  Under my wheels.  So hard to admit it, this needing of someone.  Not for him for me.

And yet I did.

I had to admit it, or give up everything I'd learned to become.

I *needed* to be his wizard.  I needed---him?

She was waiting expectantly.  Carson looked up from his assumed interest in wine and met my eyes, expressionless.  He wouldn't give anything away, of course.  It was my call.

"Nope, no relative!  A friend!"  Omigawd, what stupid thing had I said? I saw Carson's eyes, carefully neutral before he went back to studying wine.  Baast seated herself comfortably by his feet, and glared at me with wicked green-yellow eyes as if tempted to come on over and scratch my dick off. "I mean, an extremely good friend!" C'mon, what was wrong with friend?  Friend was good, right?

Baast not only continued to glare.  She changed form, into a sinuous black-skinned girl with smoky blue eyes. Of course "black" is relative here; Baast's skin was flat ebony suede with silver sparkles, not a warm brown like Darlene's human coloring.  Dig it, she didn't look the least bit human although attractive as hell of course.  But since no one except me could see her this was kinda irrelevant.

She wrapped her arms around Caron's neck protectively.  Memory struck like sparks from her look alone.  She was after all the goddess of desire.

Memory: I woke up that morning with him wound around me in sleep, his moist velvet breath tickling the hollow of my throat.  I'd stiffened, not used to people who chose to snuggle.  I mean, I'd been alone for a long while.  And Vicky always preferred to go back to her own digs immediately after sex, as if to distance herself from the messy act and the damp sheets.  My place, my cleanup.

Carson would eventually screw like a wild man and not mind dozing off in the wet spot.  But he held me, too, afterward.  Passion versus tenderness.  Or maybe, the two were not at war here in the least.  For now, we just made out like crazy.  But still, though probably frustrated as hell----he snuggled me.

I pulled back enough to study his face nearsightedly.  Relaxed, faintly blissful.  I didn't even know I was gonna touch his lips with my fingers until I actually did it.

I didn't expect him to nip at my hand softly---until he actually did it.  Sleeping?  Oh, sure.

Just resting until I got up, is all.

Did I say "got up"?  Not an erroneous statement in the least.  We'd spent most of the morning at it.  Being "friends", I mean.  Touching only, nothing heavy yet.  But it would come very soon.  Oh---you bet it would.

But something else, something more important than banging each other brainless, had come long before this.  And if Darla was uncomfortable with it, that was tough.

I got you under my wheels---

Alice Cooper rattled in my brain, meaning something to me that he'd probably never meant at all.

"Come back," I whispered, and Darla eyed me warily.  I'd still been in the habit of spacing out and randomly quoting song lyrics back when she knew me better, and she hadn't liked it then either since our musical tastes were some worlds apart.  "In the morning.  Come back *hard.*"

"Er, Mr. McIntrye, it's okay if you don't wanna---"

I made my decision via the sizzling magic inside me and my memories of Mr. Cooper's music.  "He's my lover, Darla.  Got a prob?" I hissed nastily, as she goggled at me in disbelief.

And then---I was in disbelief myself.

I had actually---finally--defined our relationship in a fit of annoyance.  Lover, was it?  It damnsure was.  Nothing wrong with that.  Groovy, in fact!

I did more or less whisper the news rather than bellering, but I coulda spared the effort; my former student eyed Carson cynically and voiced her opinion to half the large store.

Now, I couldn't remember discussing sex with Darla at all, except of course when we were arguing about her former beau. And gay sex?  Not likely! I expected the worst to be honest; though I didn't intend to apologize about my doings I was kinda braced for a dispute at least.  So in a way, her response stunned me more than it did the complete strangers in the place.

She grinned at me knowingly.  "I kinda thought 'friend' wasn't the word you wanted.  Hell, I could use a 'friend' like that, give me a wallet fulla hundred dollar bills.  Lover makes lots more sense; about time you hooked a decent one! And he cute, too, for a white boy.  Hey, you with the nose!  Leather-jacket boy!  You treat Mr. McIntyre right, now."

Huffing, she passed me the grocery bag of nuts and chocolate, accepting some bills as I giggled helplessly at her referring to Carson as "you with the nose!"  He certainly wasn't beaky, but he had a strong face rather than a cutesy one and his nose was definitely an asset to that structure.
He just stared at Darlene with a rather wild look, and grunted something that seemed to satisfy her.

I accepted a hug from the lady as she popped out from her counter to offer same.  "Keith, you a fool!" she whispered, the only time she'd called me by my first name rather than the teacher special.  "Why you think I'd hate you for this?  Love is a good thing, however it's packaged.  And I been prayin' you'd find some. Long as he treat you right---and handing you his wallet must mean he's head over heels!"  She twinkled at me as I stood and stuttered.  "Now Merry Christmas---and don't be TOO good!"

"Not likely!  And Merry Christmas to you and the kid," I muttered, as I tottered over and dropped my loot into the already half-full cart.  "Now THIS is shopping!" I exulted, red as a beet and trying to pretend nothing major had happened.

"Really," Carson observed in a somewhat subdued voice, but he smiled at me in a way that---wow.

Definitely more than just "friendly."  But to my relief, he didn't start reciting poetry or dredging me with mush.  If it hadn't been for that smile, I woulda been kind of afraid he didn't care if I admitted we were more than pals to someone who's opinion I actually gave a damn about.  Funny I guess, but that would've hurt even though I was *trying* to be casual about it.

But he seemed to realize that this was a little different than groping each other in front of strangers.   Some line had been crossed.  It was a tad scary.  I squeezed my money for reassurance and scuttled out to find yet another store, meanly leaving Carse to pay for the loaded shopping cart with a credit card while I booked with the cash.

And Baast?  Oh, she'd unwound her arms from Carson's neck about the time I admitted we were lovers.  She looked me right in the eye, and purred like thunder before turning back into a cat.  She trotted to me decisively and head-butted me hard.  She informed me she intended to explore this town, but would find me before we chose to leave.  If I could find her a purple collar with rhinestones, she would be in my debt.  Nothing slavish, mind.  Something tear-away, for an active girl!

Well---what the hell.  It was Christmas.  I'd do my best.