Bittersweet

The smell of Raab’s dirty socks was enough to make her think twice about Christmas as a whole. Perhaps it would be better if she were Jewish, or simply refused to celebrate the holiday on the grounds that it led her to do insane things which put herself and others in danger.

But Bam would never go for that.

Lenny bit down on her lip and swallowed tightly in hopes to keep herself from gagging.

She shifted her weight from foot to foot as she contemplated what she had deemed No Man’s Land in her mind. This had so better be worth it. It better be a new laptop, or a new desktop, or that black leather jacket she’d had her eye on.

Lenny sighed when she thought about it. She had hinted broadly to Bam, having him walk by the shop that sold it every time they were in King of Prussia.

I never did see him buy presents for anyone, Lenny thought to herself. She was scraping towards the bottom of the laundry basket. There, stuck to the plastic at the bottom were the grungiest, blackest, smelliest socks that she had ever laid eyes on.

The tip of a folded piece of notebook paper was peeking out of one of them. She went ghost white, and then faintly green.

“The things I do for love,” she mumbled as she reached out with trembling hands and grabbed the socks. It was almost like she could feel the germs searing into her hands.

Bile rose in her throat as she tossed the disgusting objects across the room. She opened the paper, aware of the fact that it smelled just a bit like the socks themselves. How had Bam managed to do this, anyway?

This next note opened with congratulations, and a statement that he had of course known that she would get past the Evil Socks of Which No One Would Ever Speak Again. Lenny smiled just a little.

You know that April made bowls and bowls and bowls of mashed potatoes for dinner tonight. I hid your next clue in the bottom of one of them. I won’t say which. Oh, and yeah, you can’t just transfer the contents to another container. I’ve locked all the dish cabinets and hidden the key.

And you can’t reach that high anyway.

Helena’s cheeks flushed as she read the note. He would have to make a joke about her height, wouldn’t he? She crumpled the note in her hand and flounced with as much dignity as she could muster, wearing a t-shirt and still looking green.

She snuck down the stairs. Everyone was still around the tree, wrestling with each other, talking quietly about Christmases they remembered. Carefully, she tiptoed around April.

That poor woman would be so mad if she knew what Lenny had to do. Silently, feeling much like a six year old sneaking a snack before dinner, she reached into the fridge and pulled out the five huge vats of potatoes.

“Oh God,” she moaned. The sight of all the good made her stomach roll. She washed her hands thoroughly in the sink and then found a huge metal spoon in one of the drawers.

“I wonder what’s taking Lenny so long.” April said out loud. Bam just smirked at her.


“Relax, Ape. Do you really think I’d have her off doing something that could hurt her? Like I don’t take better care of her than that!”

The conversation melted back into the murmur she had been hearing earlier. Ears burning hot, Lenny peeled back the Saran wrap and began to dig through the potatoes with her hand and spoon.

She dug through the first one and stopped. She smirked and licked her lips. Of course he’d put it in the last one. Best to just skip the middle man and go right to the last bowl…

…But Bam was smarter than he let her think. It wasn’t in the last bowl, or the second to last, or the third to last but in the second bowl.

Fucker.

Lenny sighed, potatoes sticking to her face and bangs, under her nails, and slopping over the bowls onto the counter. There was the note, neatly folded and tucked into a
sandwich bag.