As a joke, my brother used to hang a pair of panty hose over his fireplace
before Christmas. He said all he wanted was for Santa to fill them. What
they say about Santa checking the list twice must be true because every
Christmas morning, although Jay's kids' stockings were overflowed, his poor
pantyhose hung sadly empty.
One year I decided to make his dream come true. I put on sunglasses and went
in search of an inflatable love doll. They don't sell those things at
Walmart. I had to go to an adult bookstore downtown. If you've never been in
an X-rated store, don't go. You'll only confuse yourself. I was there an
hour saying things like, "What does this do?" "You're kidding me! Who would buy
that?"
Finally, I made it to the inflatable doll section. I wanted to buy a
standard, uncomplicated doll that could also substitute as a passenger in my
truck so I could use the car pool lane during rush hour. Finding what I
wanted was difficult. Love dolls come in many different models. The top of
the line, according to the side of the box, could do things I'd only seen in
a book on animal husbandry. I settled for "Lovable Louise." She was at the
bottom of the price scale. To call Louise a "doll" took a huge leap of
imagination.
On Christmas Eve, with the help of an old bicycle pump, Louise came to life.
My sister-in-law was in on the plan and let me in during the wee morning
hours, long after Santa had come and gone, I filled the dangling pantyhose
with Louise's pliant legs and bottom. I also ate some cookies and drank what
remained of a glass of milk on a nearby tray. I went home, and giggled for a
couple of hours.
The next morning my brother called to say that Santa had been to his house
and left a present that had made him VERY happy but had left the dog
confused. She would bark, start to walk away, then come back and bark some
more. We all agreed that Louise should remain in her panty hose so the rest
of the family could admire her when they came over for the traditional
Christmas dinner.
My grandmother noticed Louise the moment she walked in the door. "What the
hell is that?" she asked. My brother quickly explained, "It's a doll." "Who
would play with something like that?" Granny snapped. I had several
candidates in mind, but kept my mouth shut. "Where are her clothes?" Granny
continued. "Boy, that turkey sure smells nice, Gran," Jay said, trying to
steer her into the dining room. But Granny was relentless. "Why doesn't she
have any teeth?" Again, I could have answered, but why would I? It was
Christmas and no one wanted to ride in the back of the ambulance saying,
"Hang on Granny, Hang on!"
My grandfather, a delightful old man with poor eyesight, sidled up to me and
said, "Hey, who's the naked gal by the fireplace?" I told him she was Jay's
friend. A few minutes later I noticed Grandpa by the mantel, talking to
Louise. Not just talking, but actually flirting. It was then that we
realized this might be Grandpa's last Christmas at home.
The dinner went well. We made the usual small talk about who had died, who
was dying, and who should be killed, when suddenly Louise made a noise that
sounded a lot like my father in the bathroom in the morning. Then she
lurched from the panty hose, flew around the room twice, and fell in a heap
in front of the sofa. The cat screamed. I passed cranberry sauce through my
nose, and grandpa ran across the room, fell to his knees, and began
administering mouth to mouth resuscitation. My brother fell back over his
chair and wet his pants and Granny threw down her napkin, stomped out of the
room, and sat in the car. It was, indeed, a Christmas to treasure and
remember.
Later in my brother's garage, we conducted a thorough examination to decide
the cause of Louise's collapse. We discovered that Louise had suffered from
a hot ember to the back of her right thigh. Fortunately thanks to a wonder
drug called duct tape, we restored her to perfect health.
Louise went on to star in several bachelor party movies. I think Grandpa
still calls her whenever he can get out of the house.
Trudy E. Laramee
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