Ten Christmases Ago

[Jay Furor]

Laying his head back, Jason gave a loud, yet cheery, yawn, as he smiled, content with the night's sleep. Christmas Eve... Fun day, right? Haha! Looking to his side, his face shrunk away into a glorious grin of confusion; it seemed his girlfriend had left in the middle of the night, with his wallet, his watch, and his... Pants. Ah well, it wasn't the first time. Sitting up, he stretched, and slashed an X onto his calender with his pocket-knife, which had escaped theft by being sneakily hidden. That, and the fact it could hardly stand up to a butter knife; it was rusty, dull, and cheap, but he liked it. Standing, he stretched once more, before putting on a pair of pants, and opening his safe, taking from it a wallet, stocked with a hundred dollars. Yes, he kept a safe to store his wallets. When one out of every nineteen girlfriends robbed him in his sleep, it was a necessity. He should probably stop sleeping around, actually... It'd give at least one of his wallets a rest. No matter.

He walked into the kitchen and fixed himself a glass of eggnog- Furor family recipe, of course-, and a sausage biscuit. Taking a long sip of the eggnog, savoring the flavor of its secret ingredient especially; four ounces of Jimmi's Gold Scotch. At fifty-nine years old, the bottle was fairly valuable, and, lucky for Jason, not a well-known brand. Indeed, Jimmi's Gold had closed down ages ago, and the twenty-four bottles Jason owned were given to him by his great-great-grandfather, Jimmi Furor, himself. He assumed Jay had received the same gift, as well. Ah, Jay...

He still remembered the day, all that time ago. He hadn't known a thing then. All he knew was that he'd survived. He had no idea at the time if anyone else had. With his alkahestry and a fire axe, he'd taken down two assailants, and escaped with cuts and bruises, but his life. It was only years later that he found out Jay was alive, but he didn't want to seek her out; he'd been a coward, he'd ran, and hadn't even tried to help anyone else. He was her twin brother, he was supposed to have protected her, no matter what, and he hadn't. He didn't let it keep him down, though; biting into his biscuit, and taking another swill of eggnog, he laid back slightly in the comfortable chair in his bachelor pad. Grabbing a newspaper, he flipped to the military news section, and stifled a laugh as an article noted Colonel Furor's Christmas Gifts To All Female Officers. It said that nobody knew what the gifts were, but from the way she'd wrapped them, in the picture, he knew the packages were all tiny miniskirts and bikini tops. Laaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaawl. SO MUCH like her... He sometimes almost regretted showing her his secret stash of Playboys, byahaha~ Meh, he was eight, and had no idea why the pretty ladies weren't wearing clothes.

Finished with breakfast, he stood again, and slung on his leather jacket and shoes, before stepping out the front door. And he laughed like a cheerful little child at what he saw; schnuuuuuuur!! It was a white Christmas Eve in Central!~

And the neighbors gave him strange stares, but he didn't even pretend to care. Instead, he dashed around, barely dressed, making snow angels, building snow men, and throwing snowballs at his car. One of which contained a rock and kind of busted his window. Ahhhhh crap. OH WELL!~ His car, he could bust the window if he wanted to! Even if it WAS an accident... An expensive accident... OH WELL~ Finished with his playing in the snow, and deciding against cleaning shattered glass from the driver's seat, he started jogging to his favorite cafe, and slipped on some ice, blacking his eye on the sidewalk. Oh, bad luck, why do you stalk the poor lad...? Well, why-ever bad luck surrounded Jason, he didn't seem to notice; an optimist at heart, he took it all in stride.

Arriving at the cafe, he took his usual seat, and ordered the usual; two slices of honey-and-caramel-topped carrot cake, and a vanilla milkshake, with a side of watermelon Cerisian Ice. As he started his meal, he noticed a girl sit down, with a lizard chimera guy, a huge bearded man, and the beard-guy's pretty wife, a few tables over. His attention was on the blonde girl with the automail. He almost laughed and waved, with his cheery grin, but deigned from doing so. So that was what Jay looked like these days? Like himself, if he was a chick! They even had the same droopy little tuft of hairs that hung down between the eyes! Eating casually, he snuck a few more glances. She looked happy... And to be honest, no amount of beautiful girls, no amount of tasty sweets, and no amount of roller-coaster rides would ever make his Christmas more magical. With epic skill, he whipped out his phone all casual-like and, while appearing to text, snapped a sneaky photo of Jay, before returning to his meal.

The chances the two of them would be in the same place at the same time were slim. Christmas Eve miracle, maybe? The waitress came by to collect his empty plates, a tip, and the check, and he quickly jotted a message down on a piece of paper. Merry Christmas, little Jay-Jay <== Fram Drachma weeth lav! He didn't sign his name. He didn't need to, he knew she'd know. And if she didn't, that was fine too. He only credited it to an old reference to a movie they used to watch together a lot. Jay'd always wanted to be like James Bond, and Jason had to hand it to her, she was doing pretty well, punching bad guys left and right. He handed the message to the waitress, tipped her a twenty, and paid his bill of ten dollars. Tipping 200% since 1993!~ Pointing to Jay, he made his leave, thankless, and walked to the sidewalk, turning only to see Jay receive her little card. She seemed to blink with surprise, and did a spit-take, before turning to look around, only stopping when she realized he wasn't there. He smiled to himself, and whispered; "Merry Christmas, little Jay-Jay... Love you sis, happy early birthday." Smiling, he turned to cross the street, and a van sent him tumbling down a few steps sideways, as the driver got out to see if he was okay. He stood up rather quickly, considering he HAD been hit by a van, albeit, a van that slammed on brakes just in time, and quickly apologized to the driver, before dashing across, narrowly avoiding a cyclist, on his way home. Good day... God day.