Merry Tidings

Fall leaves should bring joy, but not in the Simmons House, because in the Simmons House, fall brings horror. But not the kind of horror expected in October. Not the kind of horror expected on Halloween. Because within the walls of 1428 Elm Street, something worse than horror was about to arrive. Because within the walls of 1428 Elm Street, it wasn’t Halloween. It was Christmas. 

“When is she coming?” Trent Simmons asked, knowing the answer, but stuck in a reality where asking a question with an obvious answer could somehow undo the circumstances. Trent was bent over a large cardboard box. Slathered on the box in green paint were the words “Merry Tidings!” Trent, the oldest Simmons sibling, had danced with this box for many years. Being careful to open it gently. Being meticulous with the removal of every single Christmas ornament inside, placing each one gingerly on a series of towels laid around the box. 

“This isn’t the day for stupid questions, Trent.” Lydia Simmons replied. “She’ll come when she comes, and we know when that is.” Lydia didn’t mean to be so short with her son; she had endured her older sister’s “tradition” for longer than Trent existed, and she was in no mood to cater to a teenager who picked today of all days to invite stupid into the living room. 

“Sorry, Mom.” 

“Sorry-ditto.” Lydia replied. “You know how I get this time of year, but I need to work on not getting how I get.” Sorry-ditto was a family phrase, coined by Lydia’s sister because, in her words: 

“Saying sorry back isn’t enough when you have done the wronging, my darlings. Sorry-ditto is that extra oomph you need to truly put things right.” 

Sorry-ditto was one of many “Penolologisms” that had permeated every facet of the Simmons household, one of the easier ones to accept. 

“Why do we deal with her?” Sarah Simmons, at the foot of the stairs, in her hand a large candy bucket shaped like a jack-o-lantern. “Can’t we tell her, ‘Look, Aunt Penelope. Back here on planet Earth, Christmas hasn’t happened yet.” 

Trent and Lydia exchange a look. “This isn’t the day for stupid questions,” they both said in an eerie cadence. 

“She’s family, Sarah,” Lydia replied. “We deal with her because she’s family.” 

“In the courtroom of my mind, that doesn’t hold up, counselor.” 

“The courtroom of your mind? Gross. What’s with the pushback this year?” Trent asked. “You’ve done this almost as long as I have.” 

“I’m fed up.” Sarah declared. “I am General Custer, and I’m making my last stand. This bullshit needs to end.”

“Custer and his men were all slaughtered.” Trent pointed out. 

“So? The point is they fought.” 

“They fought a losing battle, honey.” Lydia reminded. 

“I don’t intend to lose.” 

“Sarah. It’s one day,” Lydia assured. “We give Aunt Penelope one day, and we move on.” Lydia noticed the candy bucket in Sarah’s hand. “And put that away. It’s not appropriate.”

“Really?” Sarah held the candy bucket high. “Not appropriate to have a bucket of candy on Halloween to give out to the trick-or-treaters because it’s Halloween and on Halloween kids get candy because it’s Halloween?!” 

Lydia sighed. “Don’t do this. Aunt Penelope has her traditions. I endured them longer than both of you have, since being her sibling, I really couldn’t escape.” 

“Yeah, Mom. Her sibling. But this isn’t her house. I don’t understand why she’s allowed to just impose on us like this.” 

“Because she’s family,” Lydia said with a finality she hoped would close the discussion. 

“Oh. Because she’s family? So I can be a crazy person and change when things happen, and it’s allowed because I’m family?”

“No.” Trent, now on top of a step ladder, with a star in his hand. “Penelope can be the crazy person. The rest of us have to be normal.”

“Huh,” Sarah scoffed. “We’ll see about that.” 

“How about we not see about anything, except finishing these decorations? Your Aunt will be here soon.” 

“When?” Sarah asked.

“She’ll come when she comes, and we know when that is.” Trent and Lydia had developed quite the eerie rhythm. 

“You two exhaust me.” Sarah went to the hall closet and chucked the candy basket inside. “There. No more candy. I’m going to go to the kitchen to grab some cleaner.” 

“Why?” Trent asked.

Sarah stopped and turned. A little too dramatically, but still, she turned. “I am glad you asked, Big Brother. I am glad you asked.” Sarah pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket. A yellow substance stained the very center of the paper.  “While you two were out buying a Christmas tree, I found this tacked to our door.” Trent took the paper.

“Enough is enough.” Trent read. “What does that mean?” 

“Look at the stain, Trent.”

“Ok. Looking...what is that? It’s sticky.”

“Yeah,” Sarah remarked. “Sticky. That’s egg, good sir. EGG!” 

“Calm down,” Lydia said. “We don’t need drama on Christmas.”

“It isn’t Christmas, Mom!” Sarah shouted. “It’s Halloween, and that note is a threat!” 

“Are you serious, right now?” Trent inquired. 

“We have been indulging Aunt Penelope’s lunacy for years now. That message is the town telling us that they’re done. Years of kids knocking on our door and either getting no answer, or, when we blink and let Aunt Penelope answer, the kids walk away with no candy and a ‘Merry Tidings!’ Before the night is over, we’re going to get egged. EGGED. HARD.” 

The ominous message from the youngest Simmons sibling failed to hit as hard as Sarah hoped. 

“Hand me that garland, Trent,” Lydia ordered. Trent handed Lydia the garland and the work on the tree resumed. 

“Ok, fine. Continue to Christmas. Fine. Don’t expect me to wipe the egg off of your face.” Sarah stormed into the kitchen. 

Trent sighed. “She is right, you know.”

“Trent, don’t start,” Lydia said. 

“But she is, Mom. The town is fed up. Really.”

“It was a note and some egg.” 

“Ugh. I didn’t want to tell you this, but it’s not just the note and the egg. I was at the grocery store last week stocking up on eggnog, because you know Aunt Penelope...”

“I need egg for my nog, darlings!” The words came out of Trent and Lydia’s mouths in perfect sync. 

“The judgmental stares I got in line, Mom. The fact that I had to have one of the staff go back to the storage room because they hadn’t planned on stocking eggnog for public purchase so soon. Parents and kids with bags and bags of candy, wondering why the hell I had two baskets of eggnog on October 20th. This town loves Halloween, Mom. Loves it. And thanks to Aunt Penelope, we’ve become the Halloween haters. Do you know what the kids call us at school?”

“I assume not exuberant and focused?” 

“The Sinister Simmons,” Trent replied. “The evil family on Elm Street that whips it out and pisses on Halloween.” 

“Trent!”

“Their words, Mom. Our address is the same as Nancy Thompson’s, for crying out loud.” 

“Who is that?”

“Come on, Mom. A Nightmare on Elm Street. You introduced me to that movie. What is happening to you? To us? When did this stop being a horror house? When did we trade terror for tinsel?” 

Lydia put the tinsel in her hand down and sat on the floor. “We can’t cross Aunt Penelope.” Lydia sighed. “I can’t cross my sister.” 

Trent joined Lydia down on the floor. “Ok, Mom. Look. Aunt Penelope is not Aunt Gladys. At least I hope not. But that doesn’t mean we can’t break a stick, swarm her and rip her to shreds.”

“Trent, that’s graphic.” 

“Yeah, it is. And it’s Halloween. The one time of year imagery like that belongs. Aren’t you tired of celebrating Christmas twice?” 

“It would be nice to have more time to buy presents.” Lydia stood up. 

“Yeah, it would. Let’s face it, Mom - the quality has taken a dip.” 

“What? You kids don’t like Peeps?” 

“Peeps belong in the microwave and then the trash, Mom.”

The doorbell rang. Trent and Lydia’s heads snapped to the front door, newly covered in Reindeer-themed wallpaper. 

“She’s heeeere.” Trent uttered. 

“Was that a Poltergeist reference?” 

“And she’s coming back.” Trent got up. “I’ll get it.” Trent walked to the door and opened it wide. Standing there, clad in emerald green and ruby red with a bedazzled “P” embroidered on a ridiculously “Happy Holidays” sweater vest, was the incomparable Aunt Penelope. 

“Merry Tidings, darlings!” Her voice rang out as if trying to summon the most cheerful spell ever. Lydia appeared next to Trent. 

“Penny!”

Suddenly, Aunt Penelope wrapped Lydia in a hug filled with sisterly joy, and a whiff of something Lydia couldn’t figure out. 

“Penny? What’s that smell?”

“Thrilled you noticed! It’s a new fragrance I concocted. ‘Reindeer’s Promise.’” 

“It’s...pungent.” 

“Hmmm...yes.” Penelope turns to Trent. 

“Trent! You’ve...” She trails off and hugs him. “I would say you’ve grown, but that’s quite cliché, and I don’t believe you have shot up one inch since I last saw you.” 

“Merry Tidings, Aunt Penelope.” Aunt Penelope released Trent and stepped into the living room. She made a beeline towards the center of the room and stood there, her head raised towards the heavens. 

“Penny? You alright?” Lydia asked.

“Just soaking in the Christmas spirit,” Aunt Penelope replied. “Glorious.” Aunt Penelope looked at the tree. 

“Hmm...the tree isn’t finished.” 

“Sorry, Sis. We got caught up.” 

“No worries. The half that’s done is beautiful. Hmm...where is Sarah?” 

“She’s in the kitchen,” Trent answered. Aunt Penelope headed into the kitchen. The sight on the linoleum floor was disturbing, or would be if it were anyone other than Aunt Penelope. 

“Hmm.”

Lydia and Trent joined Aunt Penelope in the kitchen doorway. Lying on the floor, covered in ketchup and eggnog, was Sarah, terror lacerated across her face. Aunt Penelope assessed the display. 

“Hopefully, that’s not all of the eggnog.” Aunt Penelope wished. 

“Sarah, honey, what is this? What is this mess? You were in here to get cleaner, and now you’ve made this mess, and we’ll need the cleaner, because you’ve clearly made a mess--”

“Mom, you’re rambling.” 

“Trent, I can ramble. There is ketchup and eggnog on my floor.” 

Aunt Penelope gingerly stepped towards the body of her niece and knelt. “Merry tidings, Sarah.” She never broke her gaze, a large smile plastered over her face. Eventually, Sarah broke character. 

“Merry tidings, Aunt Penelope.” 

“Sarah, you never struck me as a theatre person.” 

“I’m not, Aunt Penelope.”

“You could have fooled me. This is quite...theatrical.” 

“Sarah, please get off my floor and get yourself cleaned up. Penny, I’m sorry.”

“Nothing to be sorry about, Lydia.” Aunt Penelope, with utmost calm, went to the kitchen cabinet, pulled out a small glass, opened the refrigerator door, and removed a carton of eggnog. “I guess it had to happen sometime.” She poured herself a glass and began to sip. Once finished, Aunt Penelope let out a sigh - not as joyful as it should be and went back into the living room. Lydia confronted her daughter. 

“What were you thinking? You’ve upset your Aunt. You...you...could have left the eggnog out of this.” 

“Mom, I--just wanted--”

“I know what you wanted, Sarah. Believe me, I do. And I understand, but staging this...this ridiculous--”

“Eggnog murder,” Trent interjected. 

Lydia collapsed on the floor, but made sure to steer clear of the mess. “We just had to give her one day. One.” Lydia sighed. “Halloween is important to this town, but family matters more. Do you two think I have siblings growing on trees?”

“I mean, that would be a sight--”

“Not the time to get cute, Sarah.” Lydia snapped. “No one picks up the phone for her. I pick up the phone. No one pulls out the Christmas decorations at the top of October. I pull out that absurdly heavy box. I am all she has. I am the one who answers.”

“Sorry, Mom.” Sarah meant it. Truly. “I just don’t get why it’s so important to Aunt Penelope.” A voice from the other room.

“A bit dramatic, Lydia,” Aunt Penelope called out. Lydia stood up. 

“Trent, Sarah. Clean up this mess.” 

“Wait. I have to help clean up the eggnog murder?” Trent objected. 

“Yes, you do,” Lydia stated. “And you, young lady. You’re lucky there we have a back stairwell so you don’t track all of this into the living room.” Lydia leaves Trent and Sarah. 

“Eggnog murder?” Sarah asked.

“Not my best,” Trent replied. 

Lydia found her big sister nestled under the Christmas tree. Lydia sat down on the couch nearby. 

“Did you see this coming, Penny?” Lydia wondered. 

Aunt Penelope sighed. “Of course, I did. Children love Halloween, even those who have outgrown it.”

“I will talk to them,” Lydia assured. 

“Please. Don’t. There is no need.”  

“But it’s tradition.” 

“My tradition.” Aunt Penelope laughed. “I am surprised I don’t hate Halloween, Lydia, if that’s what you’re thinking.”

“I’m not thinking anything.” 

“And you’re not all I have, by the way. I have quite the friend group, if you must know.” 

“Oh.”

“Oh, indeed. The book club would go up in flames without my stewardship.” 

“Keeping flames away from books is always a good thing.” 

“Halloween is scary, Lydia. Scary.”

“That tends to be the theme, Penny.”

“Halloween was never a good time. Terrible costumes, and I couldn’t have any candy.”

“Wait. We shared a childhood. What do you mean you couldn’t have any candy? I got candy.” 

“Well, lucky you, little sis. The window for trick-or-treating is a small one, and by the time you came along, I was past it. And suddenly our parents realized candy wasn’t so bad after all.”

“Penny, I didn’t know.” 

“I know you didn’t know. It’s not something I ran down the hall screaming. Favoritism, Mom and Dad! Stop playing favorites!” Aunt Penelope sighed. “I kept it all in, and eventually, I was pulling the Christmas tree out of the basement the first week of October. Christmas was the holiday where I felt I mattered, so I wanted it to start sooner and last longer.”

“I kept stealing candy,” Lydia confessed. 

“What?” Aunt Penelope was taken aback. 

“When I was little. Every time Mom took me to the store, if there was candy within reach, I took it. It became a thing, and I guess Mom and Dad didn’t want me to turn into a shoplifter later in life.”

“Stealing things is wrong, I hear.” Aunt Penelope was still in a bit of shock. “I knew none of that.”

“Well, it wasn’t something I ran down the hall screaming, Penny. I want candy and I will steal to get it, Mom and Dad!”

Aunt Penelope and Lydia burst into laughter, a laughter that had been dormant for a long time. Lydia got up from the couch and went to the hall closet. She rummaged through it. She closed the closet door with a victorious slam. Lydia dashed to her big sister and plopped right down next to her on the floor, a pumpkin candy bucket in her hand. 

“Merry Christmas, Penny.” 

“Candy!” Aunt Penelope couldn’t hide her excitement. Aunt Penelope’s voice rang out so loud that it summoned Trent and Sarah from upstairs. 

Trent and Sarah couldn’t believe what they saw upon reaching the living room. Sitting under the Christmas tree was their Aunt Penelope, her mouth filled with chocolate. 

“Why is Aunt Penelope’s mouth filled with chocolate?” Trent asked. The two sisters looked at each other. 

“This isn’t the day for stupid questions, Trent.” They both said. 

A crack against the front door broke Aunt Penelope’s candy-eating spree. They all turned towards the door. 

“I told you!” Sarah shouted. “I told you!” A cacophony of cracks pelted the front door.

Sarah stormed to the door and flew it open. The front door was caked in egg and shell. Trent, Lydia, and Aunt Penelope joined Sarah in the doorway. 

“Good heavens! What a waste of eggs.” Aunt Penelope remarked.

“The town has marked us. We’re screwed.” Sarah said. “It’s going to be smashy-smashy-egg-egg for as long as we’re here.” 

“Don’t fret, Sarah.” Aunt Penelope declared. She placed the candy bucket on the porch. Trent removed the egg-note from his pocket. “Mom, you have a pen?”

“One second.” Lydia left and returned with a pen and handed it to Trent. Trent quickly scribbled onto the back of the egg-note. 

Sarah read the note out loud. “Halloween is a work in progress. Trick-or-Treat. You think that will work?”

“I don’t know. This town is stubborn. We’ll see.” Trent replied.  

“Ok, time to open presents!” Aunt Penelope cheered. 

Lydia, Trent, and Sarah gave her a look. 

“We’ll open presents at Christmas next year,” Aunt Penelope decided. “Until then...”

“Merry Tidings!” All four of them exclaimed. 

The egg-caked front door closed, with eggshells, candy, and a pile of fall leaves on the porch steps. Who knew what would become of it, but at the very least, it was a good start.