Read Online Duck Boy by Bill Bunn - Free Book Online

lifting another piece off the couch. It
looked a little more sophisticated than the last ornament so, he figured, it
would probably go higher on the tree. He took a wild guess and stuck the kiddie
craft on the branch about chest height.
    “Yes,” she approved absently. “That’s about right.”
    Pleased, he persevered. An angel made out of bent brass wire, he thought,
seemed fairly advanced as a craft, so he placed it a little over head-height on
the tree.
    “Oh no, dear,” Aunt Shannon said with a chuckle. “I helped him with that
one. In fact, I did most of it myself.” Her smile soured. She pointed to where
he had hung the ornament. “He never did make it quite that high on the tree. He
was shorter than you are.”
    Giving up, Steve relinquished the task of decorating the tree to his aunt,
who talked to herself as she placed each thing on the branches. He couldn’t
hear most of what she was saying as she worked, but since TV wasn’t possible,
she was the most entertaining thing around.
    “Time for tinsel,” Aunt Shannon announced. “Start at the bottom, and please
don’t put any tinsel above the top ornament.” The tree was heavily decorated,
but the top foot and a half of the tree was bare, green toilet-brush.
    “Steve, can you put on the star?” The crowning touch was offered to him.
“This was my great-grandmother’s once.” She held a blown-glass star carefully
in her hands. “It’s nearly two hundred years old.”
    Steve set up a chair, and nervously mounted the star on the top toilet
brush. A beautiful crown for an ugly tree.
    When the tree was done, Aunt Shannon took a seat on the couch, a little
winded. “Edward, come take a look,” she shouted into the kitchen. The legs of a
chair squawked as Uncle Edward got up to join them in the living room.
    “Oh, oh, oh. Shannon, my dear, what have you done?” He looked at the tree in
astonishment, looking years younger than he had seconds earlier. “Oh, it’s a
glorious thing. Wondrous.” The glow lasted for another second or two. He looked
as though he might shed a tear, too, but before he did, he dove into his book
again and the emotion on his face evaporated. His age returned. “But he’s dead
now, so I wish you wouldn’t remind me of him.” Like a bad Christmas-light bulb,
the joy that had just been there disappeared, replaced by darkness. He turned
from the room and headed to the kitchen.
    “Did you bring any gifts for Christmas?” Aunt Shannon asked. “Ones we can
put under the tree?”
    “Ahhh. Ummm. No,” Steve admitted. “I completely forgot.”
    “Well, then, we shall go to the mall. We can’t afford anything extravagant,
of course, but I think we need a little something for one another under the
tree. Let’s go,” she commanded, heading off to her room to get ready.
    Steve got his coat and went to meet her in the kitchen, by the back door. It
was kind of a long wait. She came back with her hair in a bun, a thick coat of
overly red lipstick, and a loud polyester-print dress, apparently pleased with
her efforts.
    I’m going to the mall with a cartoon.
    The two headed out into the weak afternoon sun. “It’s warmer than it looks,”
Aunt Shannon said, as she opened the garage door.
    Inside was a white monster. Aunt Shannon’s car was old and very large—a 1966
Dodge Monaco convertible. It was in fairly good condition considering its age.
Kind of like Aunt Shannon herself.
    “I haven’t started her in a while, so we’ll hope she goes.” She gingerly
lowered her bony bottom into the driver’s seat. Steve folded himself to fit the
bench seat next to her. Too bad he couldn’t remove his legs and put them in the
trunk.
    “How you doing, old girl?” she asked, patting the dashboard. “We need to go
to the mall.” She slipped the key into the ignition and turned it. The car talked
back to her: “Woah, woah, woah,” it said. She released the key. “I know it’s
cold, but you’ll warm up quickly.” She tried the