Short Story: Christmas Short Story About an Unusual Gift

When you own a red Ford Mustang, you need a pair of big, fluffy dice hanging from the rear view mirror, right? My husband, Frank,* searched for a set for our son, Larry, and his wife, Linda, but couldn't find any. He finally settled on a single, red Styrofoam die that fit atop a car's antenna. We wrapped it and gave it to them for Christmas.

It took a while, but eventually we thought up a stupendously imaginative and grammatically incorrect name for the thing. We dubbed it the Red Dice. Somehow it turned into a contest to see who could pass it off to the other family without getting caught.

They returned it to us one Christmas in a small box, nestled inside larger boxes. Another time we planted it in a geocache for them to find. When they were expecting their second child, the Red Dice was their official announcement-stuck in a baby bottle and placed in our fridge. It's a good thing I was the one who found it and not my husband or he might have gotten the wrong message-the kind that gives a fifty-year-old man a heart attack.

Several years ago, we were celebrating Christmas with Larry and Linda. The Red Dice had been in their possession for some time, and we'd forgotten about it. That was the beauty of the contest-you never remembered where you'd seen the thing last and who had it now.

As we chatted over the presents we were exchanging, Larry handed me a gift. Ah-ha, I thought. Definitely a book.

I tore off the paper. The book was slightly tattered and more than lightly smudged. Wondering why someone making the salary he did had picked out such a ratty paperback, I did my best to smile broadly. "Wow, a book on-"

Turning it over to the front, I read the title aloud, "UFOs."

"Do you like it?" Larry asked, as Linda looked on.

"Yes, of course," I replied.

"Really? Because I looked through a lot of books before I bought you that one."

"Looks great." Gulp. I could feel my vocal chords tightening and my voice getting higher with every sentence. I knew that if I had to keep pretending to love an old, yard sale book, pretty soon I'd be squeaking out my answers.

Larry said, "Don't you think it's cool? I thought you'd find UFOs interesting."

His remarks sounded so sincere that I felt bad I'd thought of it as an old, yard sale book. It was probably much more expensive than that. More like a thrift shop book.

"Um, yeah. Flying saucers. I've always wondered about those," I replied in a soprano tone reminiscent of Minnie Mouse.

Larry's blue eyes twinkled with excitement. "Look through the pages; there's some pretty interesting information toward the middle."

By now, my cheeks were locked in a frozen smile that rivaled Miss Universe on the last day of the pageant. I didn't dare trust my voice for fear it has risen into the range of a dog whistle.

Nodding dumbly, I flipped the book open to the center. Sitting in a tight hole carved out of the middle of the pages was the Red Dice. According to Linda, Larry had spent hours digging out that space with his pocketknife.

There have been presents in my life that were more spectacular, but certainly none that were more imaginative or brought more laughter.

The Red Dice has passed back and forth several times since. I'm sure Larry and Linda have forgotten that it's now sitting on our kitchen shelf. And I'm thinking it would make the most imaginative present ever-if we could just find a way to encase it in concrete, wrap it in chains and slip it into their Christmas stocking.

*Names have been changed to protect the guilty.

Sources:
Personal experience