The Christmas Present
It was just after five o’clock in the morning on December twenty-fifth. My wife was playing Santa Claus, and I was the specially selected present.
I knew from earlier (before I was blindfolded that is) that a few feet above my head to the left stood the fabulously decorated Christmas tree. Hundreds of multicolored lights shone everywhere on it, gilding the shiny ropes and streamers of tinsel and reflecting from and being refracted by all the spectacular (and spectacularly expensive) cut-crystal ornaments. Hundreds of rainbow spots danced all around the walls, ceiling and floor and played endlessly over both me and the dozens of beautifully wrapped packages piled nearby – all containing accessories to be used on me when Lauren finally surprised her three best friends
