A Merry Bloody Christmas

Husband finishes work on Christmas eve, drives home and is looking forward to a relaxing holiday. Things don't quite go as planned.

A Merry Bloody Christmas

      On the way home John was in high spirits, he was looking forward to a nice, relaxing Christmas with his wife cooking while he slithers off to the pub for a couple with his mates. His favourite place is by the inglenook fire staring into the dog-grate cradling the burning embers watching 

the flames dance around. His wife always moaned at him going to the pub at Christmas but this year he was determined to put his foot down.                  

His classic Daimler sat purring, waiting for the green light, hands squeezing the wheel through brown leather driving gloves.

Two hours later in he walked dressed in blue jeans and a jumper. John was middle aged and of slim build, in good shape and looked well with 

Think black hair almost shoulder length. His wife, slightly younger, came to greet him, short blonde hair, slim, nice figure, good looks, and wore a thin blue blouse and matching skirt. Hellen kissed him on the cheek. 

      'Hello dear did you have a nice drive' she said politely.

      'Yes and no, the driving was lovely, the traffic jams not so good.'

      'Well it is Christmas eve and everyone is trying to get home. Anyway I must get on I have some mince pies just about to burn.'

John poured himself a brandy and sat in his favourite chair with his motoring mag, contented. He sniffed the aroma as he swirled the golden 

delight around, he took a sip, this is going to be a nice quite Christmas he thought as a warm trickling glow ran down his inside.

  

    That feeling was about to be shattered as the door opened and in walked Martha, a short fat old crone as John always referred to her - 

behind her back of course - she was a tough old bird, a retired matron of long past. I bet she gave them nurses some hassle, he thought seeing 

her stood there. She was short, overweight with short brown permed hair, a tight jacket and pleated skirt. She had a deep commanding 

voice and a wobble when she walked. She always brought out the worse in John. 

    Hellen came to greet her. 'Come in and sit down aunt Martha' she said, overjoyed to see her.

    'Thank you my dear, oh a brandy how thoughtful of you, I much prefer sherry but this will suffice', aunt Martha said as she swilled it down.

    'Well, actually it's John's but you're welcome to it, he drinks too much anyway' said Hellen hunching her shoulders up and smiling.

    'Well John are you going to stand there with your mouth open all evening? Go and fetch my suitcase in' Martha demanded. 'Come on, chop 

Chop.'

    'Suitcase' John questioned, mouth still agog.

    'Yes I invited aunt Martha for a couple of days, didn't I mention it', Hellen knew full well she didn't.

John reluctantly carried out her order moaning to himself as he went. 'There goes my quite relaxing holiday, it's going to be yap, yap, yap and fetch this, do that, that's not right, merry bloody Christmas'. he said under his breath through gritted teeth.

 

    Aunt Martha and Hellen sat chatting while John, irritated by the gossipy noise, tried to read his magazine. Hellen asked John to fetch Martha 

a sherry and while he's at it to fetch her a glass of white wine. So up he gets for the fourth time, once to make her a coffee, twice to fetch mince 

pies to stuff her fat face with and now a sherry. He pours the drinks spilling as he goes then slams them down on the coffee table. Hellen looks 

daggers at John, 'don't you take that attitude John Jones' she said disgustingly. 

    'Why not I'm not a bloody servant' said John with an angry tone in his voice. 

Hellen came raging back at him, 'And another thing don't make plans for the pub tomorrow either, you can help me prepare dinner.'

    'Well we'll see about that won't we' John said in a raised voice.

Then aunt Martha pipes up, 'you need to show your wife a little respect.'

John tried to hold back as he stood there lips quivering then blurts it out in a stammering voice,

    'why don't you take your opinions, your suitcase and your fat self back home'. There I've said it he thought. 

Aunt Martha stood in shock. 'Don't worry I'm not stopping another minute in the same room with you' she said with a blood boiling expression.

60, 59, 58, 57, John sarcastically counts down the minute while looking at his watch. 

     'Don't you be funny with me my man' Martha said angrily. 

     '42, 41, 40, your minute's running out', as John caries on counting.

Martha grabs her suitcase and storms out, Hellen calls to her, 'aunt Martha wait, I'll come with you let me just get some things together.'

     'I'll be in the car' came the stern reply.

Hellen quickly packs a suitcase and tells John to get out of her way. 'Don't talk to me until you apologize to aunt Martha' she said loud and 

clear.

     'That's not going to happen' said john still shouting.

     'Then you will be cooking your own dinner tomorrow, goodbye John.'

     'And a merry bloody Christmas to you too' he shouts as she hurries out the door giving it an almighty slam.   

John pours himself a brandy, drops down into his favourite chair, strangles his motoring magazine then gives it a quick shake while holding it 

open as if to straighten out the creases.

 

    The next morning, after the storm, John sat calmly in his favourite armchair with a coffee and a home made mince pie thinking how nice 

they taste. Later he walked into his local and ordered a beer and double brandy. The landlord asked John what sort of a Christmas he's having... John smiled... A bloody merry one came the reply as he turned and headed for the inglenook.