One

 

Brett

Why did I not put a jacket on before I left my house? Cole’s house wasn’t that far away from mine, but the weather was fucking freezing this morning.

 

I’d left Sabine wrapped up warm in bed, allowing her a bit more sleep seeing as how I’d woken her up early. Just the memory of how I’d woken her up had me smiling, something I really wasn’t used to doing before she came along.

 

I didn’t bother knocking on the door before I went in; Ebru wouldn’t mind. After all, she was married to my asshole of a brother and it was a miracle he’d even made it this far in life, let alone being married with a son. It took one special woman to sign up for life with that dipshit.

 

Walking into the living room, I saw Cole on the floor with my other brother Ren’s daughter, Crystal, and my friend’s twins, Dewi and Kali, crawling all over him. Normally he’d be screaming and playing with them, but… Wait, was he crying?

 

Any other brother would probably ask if he was okay, but instead I looked over at Ebru who was sitting on the couch calmly drinking her coffee with a small smile on her face. A raised eyebrow from me was all she needed.

 

“We’re babysitting. Coffee?”

 

“No shit,” I drawled slowly, nodding at the same time. Maybe Cole was contagious because normally she’d be bouncing in her seat as she explained what was going on, with the lint muncher still crying on the floor.

 

When she didn’t say anything else and instead went and got me a coffee, I looked back over at him to see if I could see any blood. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d been roughed up by the kids.

 

“Here you go,” she put the massive cup down in front of me and then went back to her previous seat, going back to watching the moving bundle of kids and the dipshit in front of us. That was one of the best things about coming over here, Ebru always had coffee ready to go. She was one of the biggest caffeine addicts I’d ever met.

 

Leaning back, I lifted the cup and took a mouthful, still watching the writing mass of baby limbs and listening to the excited baby chatter as they attacked the still sobbing Cole. I was about to swallow when I looked over at the massive Christmas tree in the corner of the room. Cole had done a Clark Griswold this year and had cut down a tree that was way too big for his…what the fuck was that hanging from it?

 

Leaning forward, I tried to get a better look, but I couldn’t figure it out.

 

“Oh, we got our art on yesterday,” Ebru murmured, noticing where I was looking in obvious confusion.

 

“What are they?” I stood up and went closer to try and figure it out.

 

“They…” the window licker whimpered from his spot under the kids. “They…it’s a massacre,’ he broke off with a groan and curled up into a ball holding his crotch. The twins had discovered that they got a great reaction if they aimed for a guy’s crotch, so they made it their mission now to hit as many as they could, much to the pride of their mother, Isla. Little fuc… The glittering red torpedoes on the tree caught my attention again.

 

Going closer, I went to touch one and then instantly recoiled when I realized what I was looking at.

 

“Are they…” they couldn’t be. That was just wrong!

 

Straightening, and ‘accidentally’ kicking Cole in the gut as I moved away from the tree as fast as I could, I turned and looked back at the grinning Ebru.

 

“Well,” she shrugged, as she sipped her coffee. “They wanted to make Santa ornaments. I didn’t have anything else that they could use that would go all poofy for his beard.” Her hands moved like she was fluffing out a big beard.

 

Looking back over at the tree, my mouth opened and closed a couple of times. I was saved by my youngest brother, Tom, coming in.

 

“Yo!” He shouted, then stopped as he took in Cole who was still in the fetal position on the floor. “What happened to…” he stopped and looked at the tree. “Hey, that’s looking really good now that he’s cut it in half.” That was the thing with Tom, he had squirrel syndrome – that irritating inability to focus on just one thing at a time. It was one of the billion reasons why few people would get in a car with him behind the wheel. “Aw, did you guys make Sant…whoa!” Jumping back from the tree, he stopped and pointed at the red glittery torpedoes hanging at the bottom of it. “That’s disgusting!”

 

Shrugging, Ebru went back to her coffee, still grinning. “I didn’t have anything else to use that would make it look real.”

 

“So, you used tampons,” Tom almost screeched before he leaned over and tapped one with his finger making it swing around.

 

Admittedly, it wasn’t a bad idea. They’d poofed out part of it for his beard, but it was the bottom of it painted blood red with bursts of glitter here and there that made it just look wrong.

 

“Listen, asshole,” Ebru focused on Tom who was still making the tampons swing with his finger, shuddering each time. “When you have three kids screaming and trying to paint each other, while a baby is crushing your vagina from the inside out, let’s see how desperate you get.” My eyes flicked down to the barely visible bump under her top and I couldn’t help my own shudder at the graphic image she’d just given us. “And,” she stood up and walked over to pick up Crystal who was sitting on Cole’s back, pulling hard on two chunks of his hair while she bounced hard and screamed. I winced when I saw the strands of hair still in her fists once Ebru had hold of her and was walking back to her seat. “It’s not like I’m getting any use out of them just now.”

 

“Did you have to paint them red though?” Tom picked one up and held it close to his face before making a gagging noise and flicking it away from him. Unfortunately, it hit Cole in the face and then fell onto the floor in front of his nose.

 

Opening his eyes, Cole took in the Santa tampon massacre right in front of him, got up faster than I’d ever seen anyone move, and started gagging. He had a legitimate phobia of anything period related, a condition called Menophobia, but being the drama queen that he was he always had to take it to the max.

 

“He’s going to make them barf on the floor,” Ebru growled as Crystal made a dash across the floor to join in with Cole and the twins, who were now joining him in the gagging thinking that it was a game.

 

Realizing that now was the best time to escape before the barf arrived, I moved quickly toward the door, taking my coffee with me.

 

“Pussy…not on the rug!” Ebru shrieked behind me.

 

The sound of an Oscar worthy Cole throwing up, quickly joined by the kids, was followed by the frantic footsteps of Tom behind me. I had just cleared the porch steps when he burst out the door, hung his head over them, and then emptied the contents of his stomach into the grass.

 

“Is he okay?” Sabine’s slightly accented soft voice came from behind me. She was French born and bred, but had spent a lot of her childhood in England with her grandmother. Then, she’d gone to university there and had started her career in the oil industry in the country too; so, her accent was far more subtle than most people expected.

 

As always, though, I felt the bumps come up on my arms just hearing her voice and turned around to see her.

 

“You were meant to be sleeping,” I admonished as I opened my arms for her to walk into. Then, leaning down, I buried my nose in her hair and breathed deeply - something which I found myself doing every chance I could.

 

She was still recovering from all of the surgeries on her knee as well as the lung problems she’d had since a fire had burned out our offices. The doctors had reassured us that it wouldn’t be long before she was fully healed from both, she just had to take it easy for a while longer.

 

Shrugging, she moved to the side slightly to watch as Cole came stumbling out of the door.

 

“Don’t go in there,” he gasped, falling to his knees. “Don’t ever go in there.”

 

Looking up at me with raised eyebrows, I shrugged as I started to guide Sabine toward my parents’ home. Things would be normal there.

 

I was wrong.

 

 

“Linda,” Gramps bellowed from his chair as he watched whatever was on the television. “I think you poisoned me!”

 

We’d just finished a family brunch and were all vegging on the couches and chairs. Our family was growing at a crazy rate, so Mom had replaced her living room furniture so that it all matched; the only exception being Gramps recliner.

 

My brother, Ren, and his wife, Maya, had joined us and had taken back control of their daughter Crystal. She was crawling now and was an adorable bundle of mischief. Her cousin, Luke, and his wife, Isla, had also arrived and had grimaced as they heard the story about their twins puking all over Ebru’s living room. The twins looked like the cutest little angels, but they were savages. If I had to use one word to describe them, it would be feral.

 

Then there was Cole, Ebru and Tom. My little sister, Layla, was still away at college and wouldn’t be back for another week.

 

Now, the kids were asleep in their pack-n-plays in the room Mom had set up for them and their parents, and my own, had taken the opportunity to go and get Christmas shit from the store. Sabine was an early Christmas planner as I’d discovered, so we pretty much had it all done and dusted and could relax now.

 

“I didn’t poison you,” Gram snapped as she walked back in. “You poisoned yourself.”

 

“Well, why did you leave it in the fridge?” Gramps groaned as he undid the top button of his pants.

 

“Are you serious?” Grams stood over him with her hands on her hips. “When was the last time we ordered Chinese food?”

 

Groaning again, his stomach made one of the most heinous noises I’d ever heard making even Sabine stiffen beside me. “Last week? Ugh, stop talking about food…”

 

“Exactly. So, what part of you thought that it was a good idea to eat the carton of food from the fridge when it was over a week old?”

 

I did a silent gag at the thought of what he’d eaten. Gramps had always been a human garbage disposal. He walked along and saw an apple on the ground under one of our trees and regardless of the holes in it, even if they were in the shape of dogs’ teeth, he’d continue on his way eating it as he went. He had no food shame in his game.

 

We were saved from listening to more arguing by Gramps launching himself out of his chair and running in the direction of the toilet.

 

Shaking her head and muttering, Gram went to sit down just as a squeaky fart sounded loudly.

 

“Wasn’t me,” she muttered, just as an amplified fart and groan filled the room from the direction of the empty couch opposite us. I had zero control over the gag that came out of me and then a horrible thought hit me.

 

Looking down at Sabine, I echoed the same denial as Grams just had. “It wasn’t me.”

 

I was just about to try and fix whatever damage this might have on our relationship, shit knows (no pun intended) what she must be thinking of us, when my parents and the others came through the door just as the sound of a very upset stomach sounded, followed by a deep groan.

 

As the sounds continued, both Sabine and I looked around as the others froze and stared at us in alarm, and then looked around the room for where it was coming from. They stopped when they got to Grams, who was now calmly knitting. She’d never knitted a day in her life, but now that she was a great-grandmother she said she needed to look like one.

 

“Wha…” Dad’s question was broken off by the sound of something echoing and splashing loudly and another long groan. All at once we started gagging and, out of instinct, I covered my nose. “Ma?” He asked her worriedly.

 

My Gram carried on doing her version of knitting, which was actually knotting the yarn using the two needles and making us all scarves that were an inch wide in some places, as she muttered, “Not me. I’m old, but I don’t have ventriloquist fartin’ skills.”

 

Almost like she summonsed the ass devil himself, another vomit worthy noise filled the room.

 

“Get outta me,” the voice belonged to Gramps and that’s when it hit me, he had one of the handheld thingies for the baby monitor in his pocket. He insisted on carrying one in case he was more than five steps away from the kitchen and needed something. The base units were also in almost every room so that if the babies needed us no one missed it. That smart idea had been brought to the house by yours truly, something that I was regretting hugely now as it made all of the vile noises carry around us in surround sound.

 

I was also pretty certain that after this Sabine would be limping as fast as she could in any direction that would take her away from us.

 

“Jesus, it’s like the fires of hell!” Gramps chose that moment to whine, oblivious to audience that he had.

 

Tipping my head back to look up at the ceiling, I held back the bile that rose with every groan and productive growl. Tom wasn’t so lucky. In fact, the only ones who were lucky and didn’t start gagging were Ebru and Ma.

 

Taking a deep breath and sighing, I went to get up to help Sabine pack and offer to fly her home. I was also thinking about how I was going to try and get her to forget this moment as she packed, when an airy whistling fart filled the room along with Gramps chuckling and singing, “Pop goes the weasel.”

 

Looking over at Sabine in absolute horror, I almost passed out with relief when I saw her with her hands covering her face, but her shoulders were shaking with laughter. I’m pretty sure it was laughter because the noises that joined it weren’t hysterical crying ones…yet.

 

Before I could sit down and enjoy the feelings of relief though, he started humming Despacito.

 

Normally, I’m the serious one in the family. In fact, I was the only one of us that had been born with a brain and any dignity whatsoever, but after that I had zero self-restraint as I collapsed at Sabine’s feet and got ready to beg her not to leave me.

 

Just as I opened my mouth to start though, the Cesspool Karaoke track changed to Rawhide.

 

After the first chorus, I just picked Sabine up and ran.

 

Sabine

 

“What are you reading?” I asked Brett as I walked out of the steamy bathroom. I loved the showers that he’d had put into his house here. It was like a holy experience every time I had one.

 

“Looking at the legalities of this,” he mumbled as he clicked the mousepad.

 

I was loving this trip to see the Townsends. My family had never been affectionate or involved in each other’s lives. Once I’d moved to England, my Grandmother had made up for that, but I doubted any family would ever be like this one.

 

Brett had been busy ever since our last visit here for Ebru and Cole’s wedding, it had been non-stop. Even working from home, there were so many instances when he would get a phone call or his head of security, Coleman, would come into the house to meet with him in Brett’s home office. There had been a lot of security updates since the fire, though, so I just put it down to that and the fact that we worked in a demanding and busy industry.

 

Getting comfortable next to him on the bed with my iPad, I was about to read my emails when I looked over at Brett’s screen briefly.

 

“Why are you looking up familial divorce?” I’d found today hilarious and great example of why the Townsends were such a fantastic family. Brett apparently had not.

 

“You really need to ask me that?” He sounded so incredulous that I burst out laughing.

 

“It wasn’t that bad!” His mouth dropped open as he watched me laughing. “And I would think that maybe you would be more concerned that a video of it was now on YouTube.” I picked up my iPad and hit play on the video that Maya had sent me the link to earlier.

 

“I’ll kill him,” Brett growled as he listened to Hurst singing Stevie Wonder’s I Just Called To Say I Love You, which was frequently interrupted with groans and graphic noises like we’d heard earlier. There was also a lot of spraying sounds and Hurst sniffing and declaring that ‘it smelt better’.

 

I moved it out of his way as Brett lunged for my iPad. “Stop! You’ll miss the best bit.”

 

“Linda,” Hurst yelled at that moment on the screen. “Bring me some ice and the A&D, will ya?” He started muttering as he went about his business, spraying again. “Huh, when did I eat carrots?”

 

The sound of footsteps joined him and Ren’s muffled voice said loudly, “Fuck me. It smells like someone shit a Christmas tree!”

 

I was laughing so hard now that I swear I could hear the blood rushing around my head. My parents would be disgusted if they heard this, but I thought it was one of the funniest things ever.

 

“Please tell me no one has watched it!” The question was a rhetorical one as Brett typed furiously on his screen, no doubt telling Tom to remove the video. He was too late though, the number underneath it showed that over one-million people had. “Motherfucker,” he whined after his phone dinged with the response.

 

“I’m sure that no one will know that it’s your grandfather,” I reached for my iPad, intending to read emails, but the title above the video started me laughing again.

 

Digging for Townsend oil

 

At that moment, the dinging from Brett’s phone became almost constant, each one getting another curse word, and each increasing in volume.

 

I loved this family immensely.

 

“Oh, for fucks sake,” Brett whined as he read the most recent message on his phone. “I’ve got to take him to get a Christmas tree tomorrow.” Banging the back of his head off the wall behind us, he muttered before deciding on what to do. “I’m going to drop him off in the middle of nowhere.”

 

Laughing, I cuddled up beside him and fell asleep to the pinging coming from his phone as message after message arrived. I don’t know what time he fell asleep at, but the next morning things weren’t any better, so I agreed to go along with them to try and diffuse his anger.

 

What a mistake.

 

Six hours later…

 

Even with my scarf and a towel that I’d found in the car wrapped around my face I could smell them.

 

“I told you to make sure there were no animals around it,” Brett seethed as we drove back to their Ranch. He was sitting in his jockeys as Hurst sat calmly in the back in his boxers. “You said you had checked it more than once and that it was clear.”

 

“It was!”

 

“So,” he growled, “how did you miss the huge motherfucking skunk sitting underneath it?” he yelled, his voice sounding ten times louder in the small enclosed space of the car.

 

“Musta walked up after I checked,” Hurst replied, sounding like he and Brett hadn’t been sprayed in the chest by the animal when Brett had fired up his chainsaw. Hurst had wanted to use an axe, but Brett had vetoed the idea for safety reasons.

 

Keeping his eyes on the winding road in front of us, Brett lowered his head slightly and sniffed his chest, gagging as he caught a whiff of what seemed to be imbedded in his skin now.

 

Before he could yell at him again, Hurst picked his cell up from the seat beside him and hit a button.

 

“Linda, get the tomato juice out, will ya?” Her voice could be heard talking back to him, but I couldn’t work out what she was saying. “Na, Brett didn’t check the tree and we got skunked.”

 

It was a miracle that we made it home alive given the amount of times Brett tried to grab Hurst. Each time I made sure that I grabbed the wheel just as he turned and lunged.

 

Unfortunately for Hurst, Brett had age on his side and the car had barely stopped before he jumped out, ran into his grandparent’s house and picked up all of the tomato juice that Linda had left on the counter in the kitchen. All that could be seen after that was a blur as he ran to his house to bathe in the stuff with Hurst yelling obscenities after him.

 

Sniffing my coat, I sighed and resigned myself to the fact that I was going to have to get rid of it.

 

A tapping on the window of the car that I was still sitting in scared the shit out of me and made me squeal as I turned and saw Linda looking in at me.

 

“Did they at least bring the tree back?” She wiggled a can of pine scented aerosol at me. “I figured I’d give it a spray to get rid of the smell of skunk.”

 

Staring at her in shock, I shook my head slowly. Not even a nuclear bomb could have gotten rid of that smell.

 

“That lazy old bastard,” she grumbled as she stormed up to the house. “Where are you, old man?” She shouted as she walked in. “I can smell you. I know you’re here!”

 

Getting out of the car and leaving the door open to try and get rid of the smell, I walked over to Brett’s house hoping that he came to bed smelling normal. I’d never come across a skunk in my life and I never wanted to again.

 

“What the fuck?” I stumbled as I walked into a scene from Carrie when I went into the bathroom. There was red all over the glass of the shower, the white tiled walls and the white tiled floor.

 

Looking at Brett who was standing away from the spray still covered in the red juice, I would have panicked if it wasn’t for the empty cartons of tomato juice piled in the corner of the shower. He was standing naked as the day he was born covered in red as he scrubbed his skin.

 

“I smell like a football team shit on me,” he growled, scrubbing hard at his chest.

 

How the family had survived life I didn’t know, but once I started laughing I couldn’t stop. I ended up curled in the corner of the bathroom, holding my side and struggling to breathe as I laughed. During all of it, though, like the best girlfriend in the world that I was, I held my phone up and recorded every last second of it.