Holiday Story

Holiday Story

I awakened. There was a smell of a celebration just waiting to happen. As I leaped out of bed, I examined the clock; 6:30 A.M. I knew that if I waited long enough, I would only have to wake up my parents once. Christmas was in the air.
The clock tolled seven times; my parents had rested long enough. I was a bullet as I zoomed into my parent's fantastic room. I knew the faster I went, the faster I could explore the luxurious living room to behold the secrets hidden there. The patterned quilt of little gray flowers is one of the best I've ever seen. Brown carpet blended my brother' feet . . . MY BROTHERS FEET??? When I exposed the light of the hallway upon my parents' bed, I discovered them already roused, just pulling themselves from their dreams, preparing for a new day. My eyes burned as I saw by treacherous brother standing over them with an evil smirk on his face. I know then that if I had infiltrated the chamber only minutes earlier, I would have the infinite honor of the new title, "The Guy Who Woke Up Our Parents and Took All the Blame for it Last Christmas." I reflected upon these facts in the light of a holiday, though, and Christmas spirit won over my melancholy feeling that I lost a very important race.
The air whistled past my ears as my brother and I bolted past our parents like a freight train passing a bum, all the way to the stairs. The taboo that parents must be first down was the only thing that kept us waiting. My heart ready to explode, I loathed my parents for this reason alone, and only for the few seconds (or were they hours?) that it takes the rest of my family to reach the apex of the journey.
Now the finale begins. My parents in front, we walk down the stairs at a tedious rate, and slowly make out way into the darkness that marks the gateway into the wonderful world of a Christmas morning. As I peer into the shadows of the frosty room, I see the gleam of polished metal. The shaft of white light emanating from the small lamp revealed Bicycles! I was happier than a slave gone free, and soon I would be riding the skyline and beyond.
That bicycle was one of the greatest gifts I have ever gotten from Santa. The jolly old man who goes, "Ho, Ho, Ho!" would make a great friend, being so generous and all. I had hoped for it the whole night, and my heart belonged to Santa Claus himself for the rest of that glorious day.