Christmas Lights

Harold plugged in the cord and the christmas lights blinked on with a burst of holiday illumination. Colored light danced across the bricks and shrubs, reflecting merrily in windows trimmed with holly.

Then the lights dimmed.

"Is it Christmas? Again?!" A fuse blew and the 't' in 'christmas' went dark. "Why do you only put me up at Christmas? Am I just an ornament? Is that all I am to you?" Only the red lights were lighting now, a sullen pulsing.

"Not again." Harold felt a tightness in his shoulders. "Look at you. Look! You're a string of christmas lights. You spell out 'christmas' for crying out loud!"

"And that's somehow inappropriate for the rest of the year?" The lights were a frosty blue and white now. "Would I embarrass you?"

Harold's santa mittens clenched into fists. "You're supposed to be spreading holiday cheer. Igniting smiles in the young and young at heart. It says so right on your box! Do I have to get the box?"

The lights flared with a sharp intake of electricity. "What are those?" A series of blinks focused Harold's attention on the ground below the front window. A pair of plastic garden lights nestled amongst a cozy bed of red and gold mums. "I bet those lights stay out all year. And... and...," the illumination became low and trembling, "you bought them flowers!"

"Oh for the love of God!"

The lights started in on a hysterical display. "I want a yard sale! I want a yard sale!"

Harold yanked the cord from its socket.

Fifteen minutes later there was a box on the neighbor's front porch. Harold was already starting to feel the joy of giving. He whistled as he flipped on the garden lights.