‘Martin... Joel Martin...”

“Huh? Whazzat? Who’s clanking those chains? Oh, for the love of – Do you know what time it is?”

“Joel Martin...”

“Yeah, we got that part straight. Cripes! Can’t you people give me a break? I spent all last night with the Ghost of Christmas Pluperfect Subjunctive. I swear, if I’d had to look at one more Christmas-that-might-have-have-been, I’d’ve stabbed him in the neck with a sharpened candy cane. Did you know that there are over 60 different ways to make wassail? I do now. In detail.”

“Take it easy, that’s not my department. I’m the Spirit of Christmas Presents.”

“Christmas present? That was done long ago. You’re living in the past, pal.”

“No need to get tense about it. I said ‘Christmas presents.’ As in gifts.”

“Oh, that’s no problem. I’m an excellent gift-giver.”

“Um, well, that’s what we need to talk about. Fact is, you’re not.”

“Sure I am. Everyone says so.”

“Everyone? Would that include your nephew? You cheaped out and got him an ‘almost new’ chemistry set with all the labels missing.”

“So? He figured it out. Kid’s a genius.”

“But now he’s a genius who has 11 toes, glows in the dark and perpetually smells of paint thinner.”

“Yeah, well, that could have happened to anybody.”

“And the time you gave your in-laws that liqueur from some obscure valley in Tajikistan?”

“Hey, that was a real coup. Do you know how hard that was to find?”

“I sure do. And I know that it left the hazmat crew with PTSD and they’re now legally prohibited from selling their house for 400 years.”

“But they don’t want to move anyway. No harm, no foul.”

“And since you bring up fowl –”

“I didn’t.”

“There was that time you sent a Christmas goose to your cousin and his family.”

“I thought it was a nice gesture. Like in the song, ‘Christmas is coming, the goose is getting fat...’ It’s a tradition.”

“But you didn’t read the fine print. The service delivered a live goose to the house. It pecked their Yorkie to death, treated their living room like a statue in the park, busted out a window and flew away.”

“Hmm. I wondered why they hadn’t spoken to me lately.”

“It’s always like that with you. Always. I mean, who gives a nail gun to a six-year-old? Face it, Martin, you need to leave the Christmas shopping to your wife.”

“Can’t I even do the stocking stuffers? I have some really good ideas for that.”

“Like the turbocharged Pez dispensers last year? I hear your daughter’s candy extraction surgery went well. Pity she’ll always have that dent in her skull. And let’s not even bring up the...”

“Okay, okay, you win. I’ll let my wife take over this year. So why don’t you tell her that yourself and let me get some sleep?”

“You nuts? You think I’m gonna wake that woman up at this time of night? Not me, buddy.”

“Smart ghost.”

Joel Martin can be reached via email at jmartin@columbiabasinherald.com.