2 Chapter 2
Hornfuzz Icicle: A horny mixed Cock-a-poo with a bad attitude. He passed away in August. Please bow your head and take a moment to reflect. Show some respect. The poor thing accidentally got out of the house, jumped the fence, and ran into Ross Street. Ninety-year-old Mrs. Humm from Cheshire Street ran over him with her blood-red Mercedes. She sent flowers, food, and a sympathy card. The Icicles refuse to talk about Hornfuzz, or to Mrs. Humm. Case closed. Moving on.
These are the Icicles in a bitter nutshell. Swallow them if you dare. Run away from them for your sanity’s sake. But if you decide to stick around and spend Christmas with these loons, beware that you might enjoy yourself, fully.
* * * *
Again, like last year, Jonah and Sandy load up Sandy’s 2017 F-250 truck with luggage, gifts, and festive food (an arrangement of cookies, dried meats, cans of nuts, fruit roll, and wine; three boxes of red wine and six boxes of white) for the holidays. They make the two-hour drive north to Channing, Pennsylvania, specifically to 393 Ross Street, where they will be staying at Jonah’s parent’s house (a two-floor Tudor) for the next three days (not including this evening): Christmas Eve, Christmas Day, and December 26. God willing.
“Don’t forget my family is a bunch of upside-down ducks,” Jonah says. “All of them are off their rockers and mentally messed up. Especially my mother. Pam’s like a blizzard, cold and dangerous.”
“I haven’t forgotten,” Sandy says behind the wheel, driving northward bound, out of the city. “I just hope your brother-in-law doesn’t try to fuck me again. That was awkward for me last year. Granted, he’s a good-looking guy with plenty of muscles, but he’s married to my future sister-in-law. As I always say…the family that eats Christmas duck together shouldn’t fuck together.”
Jonah laughs. “Bobo can’t help what he does. His dick has full control over him. Hypersexuality does this.” He pauses and looks out the truck’s passenger window. The day is chilly and cold. Wind and snow blows in funnels over the Pennsylvania landscape. Icy spots cover Interstate 79. When Sandy passes the West View exit, he says to his boyfriend, “What’s this idea about Willa being your future sister-in-law? Do you think I’m going to ask you to marry me, or what?”
“Don’t fool with me. You’ll ask me to marry you by spring, or the end of summer next year. I can see it on your face. A man wears a marriage proposal on his face like a whore wears naughty underwear.”
“How’s that?”
Sandy laughs again behind the steering wheel. “They can’t wait to release and expose their goods.”
A smirk shines on Jonah’s face. “Don’t expect me to ask you to marry me this Christmas, especially not in front of my family. I want my proposal to be low key and private. The Icicles don’t need any more drama than the basics.”
“Let me guess. Your mom will be pissed because she doesn’t like me.”
“Not true. She’s still getting used to you. She just happens to like other people more than you.”
“Remember your ex-boyfriend Lucas Beam? She kicked him out of her house and told him never to return.”
Lucas Beam was Jonah’s previous boyfriend. Twenty-eight-year-old Lucas with his long blond hair and shining, bright blue eyes. Artist Lucas with his broad shoulders and soccer player build. A delicious looking man that Pam learned to hate because he called her Easter ham salty. How dare he live on planet Earth after such a comment!
Sandy’s point is simple: if you can’t tell a woman her ham’s salty, what can you tell her?
“Forget about Lucas. He’s out of the picture.”
“She’ll get rid of me just like she did him. She’ll find fifty reasons to hate me.”
“Not true. She loved the spa treatment day you bought her at Fine & Smooth for her birthday. She’s still talking about it.”
“That was your idea, Jonah, not mine.”
“Hush, Sandy. Everything’s going to be fine between my mother and you. Pam’s growing a soft spot for you in her heart.”
“A salty one,” Sandy chatters, smirking.
Enough. Jonah shuts his trap. He looks out the window and thinks about nothing. Not the snow. Not the wind. Not Lucas Beam. And not his mother. Silence takes over his numb and vague thoughts. Just the way he likes it, similar to how his father Bill lives.
* * * *
Ricky Malonni, Jonah’s first boyfriend when Jonah was sixteen, sends him a text: Here you’re visiting Channing for three days. Maybe we can hook up for Christmas? Can’t wait to see you. Hit me back.
