A Myrtle Clover Christmas

Chapter Eight

Later, Miles dropped them off at home. Wanda was full from all the food and happily stumbled off to bed for an early night. Myrtle read for a little while. She'd decided to pick up Christmas books at the library and had a very satisfying collection. She'd already read some of the short stories in one book, including a re-read of O. Henry's The Gift of the Magi, Twain's A Letter from Santa Claus, and Hans Christian Anderson's The Little Match Girl. Now she was settling into Dickens for the grand finale with A Christmas Carol.

Curled up with the book, she heard a scratching at the door.

"Dear Pasha," she murmured, going to open it.

Pasha swiftly entered, throwing a furtive look behind her.

"Was there someone out there?" asked Myrtle with a frown.

Pasha looked backwards indignantly, prompting Myrtle to step outside into her yard.

She blinked in the bright lights. Some of the lights were spotlight-type snowflakes that swirled on Erma's house. There was a huge inflatable Santa with spotlights shining on him. Red, green, and blue lights twinkled and blinked on Erma's roofline and throughout her yard.

Myrtle gazed at the ghastly display in horror.

It was then, belatedly, she noticed Erma standing to the side, admiring her handiwork. Unfortunately, Erma had already spotted her and sprinted over, a grin on her donkey-like features.

"What do you think?" she asked excitedly.

Myrtle, speechless for once, shook her head.

"Isn't it great? I put the lights up earlier today and realized I hadn't set up the timer before Tippy's party, so I went ahead and turned it on."

Myrtle stared again at the light show.

"Oh, you're probably wondering about the lights on the roof. Yep, I even did those myself! I'm pretty coordinated, though. I don't think you should do it." She gave a raucous laugh as she looked at the cane Myrtle held in one hand.

Myrtle subdued the fleeting, overwhelming instinct to whack Erma with the cane.

"Well, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Merry Christmas, Myrtle!"

With that, Erma sprinted back to further revere her creation as Myrtle walked slowly back inside.

Pasha gave her a sympathetic look as she entered the house. Myrtle plopped on the sofa and reached for the black cat. Pasha jumped next to her and leaned against Myrtle.

"It's awful, that's what it is," muttered Myrtle. "It's quite late to put up such a display, too, which makes me think she's going to have the things up until February, at the very least. Plus, I have the sneaking suspicion those horrid lights are going to keep me awake tonight."

Soon, it was time to test her theory. After she'd let Pasha back out into the darkness again, she turned in. Sure enough, multi-colored lights moved in circular patterns on her walls, despite the blinds being pulled. Myrtle groaned in annoyance.

After a restless night, Myrtle finally managed to fall asleep around four. This time, it was she who woke up with the smell of breakfast cooking. She noticed with amazement that her bedside clock reported it was nearly eight o'clock.

"Mercy!" said Myrtle. It felt as if it were the middle of the day. She slid her feet into her favorite slippers and pulled on her bathrobe.

Wanda grinned at her from the kitchen. "Got you some eggs and bacon this mornin'."

"I'm surprised you didn't come into my room to check for a pulse. I don't think I've slept this late for decades."

Wanda chuckled. "Heard you snorin' so figured you was okay."