To my dismay, my husband finally did it. He invited our neighbor, Nilbog, to join us on Christmas Day. I’ve never gotten along with him. It’s not because I dislike goblins, I just don’t like Nilbog. He’s a troublemaker and his nasty makeup is appalling.
He arrived at noon and knocked on the door so loud he scared the grandchildren and caused me to drop a pan of gravy. My eldest son ran to the door like a crazed ninja. When the annoying little creature stepped in and said, “Merry Christmas,” sounding like a tipsy Irishman with a lisp, I was convinced ... letting Nilbog into our home wasn’t going to work.
While my husband made the introductions, Nilbog grinned; displayed his crooked teeth and mumbled something under his foul breath. In an instant, the entire family gathered around him in a stupor and grinned from ear to ear. Nilbog had already cast his spell.
As I cleaned up gravy, my family marched behind Nilbog and paraded to the living room. Soon, I heard exuberant laughter followed by an eerie silence. Then five-year-old Lisa came running into the kitchen. “Come and see Nilbog’s magic trick, Grandma.”
I hurried to the living room and gasped when I saw our Christmas tree upside down in the middle of the floor. Nilbog sat under it, eating scented soap, a gift to me from my husband.
I grabbed a pointy ear and ushered our guest to the front door. “Go home, Nilbog.” He looked into my eyes and grinned and without a word, he turned and trotted away.
It’s New Year’s Day now and my husband is still wearing that stupid grin. He just informed me he has invited Nilbog to our Fourth of July celebration. I’m not sure why, but I grinned and said, “That sounds like fun.”