Adam's Problem

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(Tim) 

After several solid hours of first Grandma Got Run Over By a Reindeer, then a group run through of O Come All Ye Faithful, we were starting to lose our zest. We pulled Mitch back into the back for elf costume sizing, much to his displeasure.

"Nooo," he was whining. "Are y'all serious?"

"Trust me, you'd look even more ridiculous in regular clothes," I told him, very carefully draping the string of lights around my neck. Rob was already starting to snicker at me.

"Careful with those now!" he crowed at me.

"Ah, go find your festive outfit," I mumbled, lifting up my hair and placing them delicately round my neck. I poked one light bulb down before letting my hair flop back down into place. Rob, Chance, and Adam were all watching me with utmost interest. Mitch just stood there frowning, alternatively at me and at his costume. Three sizes down from Rob. He's so freaking small!

"And?" Adam asked expectantly, I guess expecting to get instantaneously tangled.

"And what?" I twirled around for them. "I am just fine over here. Just make sure Chance doesn't try to hug me again."

"Believe me, I won't," Chance said, backing away with his hands up and Santa hat flopping by his waist.

"At least you weren't standing there in your underwear," Mitch pointed out, selecting a hat. "Can't I just wear a hat? I'll even humor you with these ears. The whole get-up, though, is too much."

"I said I was sorry!" Chance exclaimed. "Whadaya want from me, blood?"

He smirked. "I'd settle for you out there in just your underwear."

Chance's hands flew down his belt buckle, double checking that his pants were securely fastened. "Nope."

"Too bad," he remarked, then darted away as Rob tried to give him the elf shoes. "No! No! No! No!"

"Come back here, elf! Come back here!"

"I'm the one in a reindeer costume!" Adam called after the both of them as they ran off, still chasing each other. I took the lights off and turned to Chance, who was checking his pants again, somewhat paranoid now.

"Don't worry, those aren't going anywhere!" I laughed at him.

"Better not," he grunted, tugging at them as we heard a a giant crash just off stage. "Oh crap. Wonder what that was."

We both ran off to see what was going on, skittering around a slippery corner. We pulled to a stop just before the stage dropped off into the audience. Looked like somebody wasn't quite so lucky. I peered down at a pile of arms and legs that had been my friends.

"Gimme your foot!" Rob was insisting, picking Mitch's kicking legs up and trying to hold one still while he slid an elf shoe on.

"No!" Mitch gasped. "Ow, Adam, get your antlers off of my face."

"Sorry." Adam pulled the hat off, trying to find his feet, but only kneeing Rob, who fell over backwards and onto Mitch, who'd just managed to stand up. He gasped and fell back over on his side, squealing like a pig. "Sorry, sorry," Adam said again, putting his hands on the edge of the stage and pulling himself up and out of the way.

"Owww!" Rob howled again when someone's feet got him right where it really hurts. He fell over again and sat on Mitch, who stopped screeching and just lay there gasping.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Dave said, coming up beside us, also slipping on that one spot. "What's going—ugh!"

Chance and I reached out and caught him just before he fell off the stage and onto Rob and Mitch. We hefted our slightly overweight director back to his feet. He turned around and started hollering for janitors to clean that stage before someone killed themselves.

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