Christmas

My first published piece ever. Look for it in the Fall 2008 Ubiquitous, Pratt's creative journal published twice a year and soon to be co-edited by two lovely ladies, Chanice Greenberg and Jenny Stohlman.

Christmas

Santa does not drive a sleigh across state lines. He rides in a blue Winnebago.

Betty and Prometheus sit in the back.

They play license plate games and count railroad cars.

When they fall asleep, Santa turns on the radio to hear someone else's voice.

Earlier in the day, Prometheus had said, "Oceans."

"Correction, Prometheus! Rain is more forgiving."

Betty agreed.

And the three kept rolling.

Santa does not care for road trips. He rides in a blue Winnebago.

Betty and Prometheus whisper in the back.

They play license plate games and count gas stations.

When they draw a line down the middle, Santa turns on the radio to avoid their voices.

Earlier in the day, Prometheus had said, "Sand."

"Correction, Prometheus! Earth and sunlight and nothing more."

Betty put on her sunglasses.

Santa parkes the blue Winnebago.

Betty and Prometheus crawl through the woods.

They run their palms over the bark and each other's knees.

Before they race back, Santa falls asleep to the static of dead air.

Earlier in the day, Prometheus had said, "Living."

"Correction, Prometheus! We wash through this life like the unconscious."

Betty woke up.

Santa snores.

Betty and Prometheus fuck in the back of the blue Winnebago.

They try to muffle the thuds of their fumbling feet against the door.

Santa turns on the radio to stifle the noise.

Earlier in the day, Prometheus had said, "Love."

"Correction, Prometheus! You are only a child."

Betty covered her mouth.

Santa wants in the backseat. He hadn't asked to drive.

Betty and Prometheus lock the door.

They play license plate bingo and ask for Dairy Queen.

When they fall asleep, Santa brushes his fingers over the tips of Betty's eyelashes.

Earlier in the day, Prometheus had said, "Now."

"Correction, Prometheus. I only know the past."

Betty looked for change.

Santa asks Prometheus to drive the blue Winnebago.

Betty laughs and Prometheus pulls the curtains closed.

They want Santa to hear.

When they fall asleep, Santa crushes pills into their Blizzards.

Earlier in the day, Prometheus had said, "Fire."

"You son of a bitch. You deserve to have your liver eaten a thousand times."

Betty broke the window.

Santa cuts the brakes in the blue Winnebago.

Betty and Prometheus pour champagne in the backseat.

They toast to a painless ending.

When Santa let go of the wheel, the radio crooned about a girl and a blue bayou.

Earlier in the day, Prometheus had said, "Time."

"You know, Prometheus, I'm beginning to think you're right."

Betty undid her seatbelt.

And the three rolled into the forgiving ocean.