Join Date: Feb 2003
Location: Winnipeg, Canada
Christmas with Louise
CHRISTMAS WITH LOUISE
As a joke, my brother used to hang a pair of panty hose over his fireplace at Christmas. He said all he wanted was for Santa to fill them. What they say about Santa checking his list twice must be true because every Christmas morning, although Jay's kid's stockings were overflowing with presents, his poor panty hose hung sadly empty.
One year, I decided to make his dream come true. I put on sunglasses and went in search of an inflatable love doll. They don't sell those things at Wal-Mart. I had to go to an adult book store in the seedier part of town. If you've never been to an X-rated store, don't go. You'll only confuse yourself. I was there for over an hour saying things like, "What does this do?", "You're kidding me!", "Who would buy that?" Finally, I made it to the inflatable doll section. I was looking for a standard, uncomplicated doll that I could also substitute as a passenger in my truck so I could use the car pool lane during rush hour.
Finding what I wanted was difficult. Love dolls come in many different models. The top of the line, according to the side of the box, was capable of doing things I've only seen in a book on animal husbandry. I settled for "Loveable Louise". She was at the bottom of the price scale. To call Louise a "doll" took a huge leap of imagination.
On Christmas Eve, with the assistance of an old bicycle pump, Louise came to life. My sister-in-law was in on the plan and let me in during the wee hours of the morning. Long after Santa had come and gone, I filled the dangling panty hose with Louise's pliant legs and bottom. I also ate some cookies and drank what remained of a glass of milk on a nearby tray. I went home, and giggled for a couple of hours.
The next morning my brother called to say that Santa had been to his house and left a present that made him VERY happy, but had the dog quite confused. She would bark, start to walk away, then come back and bark some more. We all agreed that Louise should remain in her panty hose so the rest of the family could admire her when they came over for the traditional Christmas dinner.
My grandmother noticed Louise the moment she walked in the door. "What the Hell is that?" she asked. My brother quickly explained, "It's a doll." "Who would play with something like that?" granny snapped. I had several candidates in mind, but kept my mouth shut. "Where are her clothes?" granny continued. "Boy, that turkey sure smells good, Gran," Jay said, trying to steer her into the dining room. But Granny was relentless. "Why doesn't she have any teeth?" Again, I could have answered, but why would I? It was Christmas and nobody wanted to ride in the back of the ambulance saying, "Hang on Granny, hang on."
My grandfather, a delightful old man very poor eyesight, sidled up to me and said, "Hey, who's the naked gal by the fireplace?" I told him she was Jay's friend. A few minutes later I noticed Grandpa by the mantel, talking to Louise. Not just talking, but actually flirting. It was then that we realized this might be Grandpa's last Christmas at home.
The dinner went well. We made the usual small talk about who had died, who was dying, and who should be killed, when suddenly Louise made a noise that sounded a lot like what we used to hear from my father in the bathroom in the morning. Then she lurched from the panty hose, flew around the room twice, and fell in a heap in front of the sofa.
The cat howled. The dog raced in circles, barking. I passed cranberry sauce through my nose, and Grandpa ran across the room, fell to his knees, and began administering mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. My brother's chair fell over backwards and he wet his pants. Granny threw down her napkin, stomped out of the room, and waited in the car.
It was indeed a Christmas to treasure and remember. Later, in my brother's garage, we conducted a thorough examination to determine the cause of Louise's collapse. We discovered that her demise had been caused by a hot ember to the back of her left thigh. Fortunately, thanks to a wonder drug called duct tape, we restored her to perfect health. Louise went on to star in several bachelor party movies. I think Grandpa still calls her whenever he can get out of the house.
Life's journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a pristine, well-preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally used up and worn out, shouting "Holy Shit...what a ride!!"