The Christmas Quest

I fucking hate Christmas shopping.

Every year, it's a six to ten-page list of shit I'm supposed to get everyone, and in return I receive a bunch of shit I usually end up giving to the Salvation Army in January. It's always peanut brittle for Holly, peppermint bark for Tina, wool socks for Mark, a gift card to Target for Lizzy...by the end of the day, I have

"Hey, Dez, stop walking so fucking slow," Tori commands. "I still haven't finished a forth of what's on my list."

I haven't bought anything yet, and we started about an hour ago. The four of us split up into two groups, so we wouldn't get so distracted. But I doubt we were going to finish on-time.

"Oh, and I found some midnight blue eyeshadow for Izzy." Tori shoves it into my hands, wincing. Midnight blue is so not Izzy's color, but no one wants to be the one to tell her she looks hideous in it. "Here's some of that ugly purple stuff Riley likes. Oh, and I can get Tanner that cologne he's wanted for the past couple of weeks..."

Saint Nick, if you're really out there, my wish is to get the hell out of here. Tori grabs my arm and jerks me to the checkout line. "I'm excited to see what you got me." She squeals. "And Tanner. I really hope he had some help from you, so I don't end up getting something like...a vacuum cleaner."

"Oh, it's good, I promise." He bought her a cat. I don't really know how useful that is, but...you know. It's the thought that counts. "I can't wait to see what you got me."

"You'll never guess." It's a white and brown Victoria's Secret swimsuit with polka dots. Saint Nick, if you're out there, you'd be burning that little bikini to pieces in my fireplace.

"Thirty twenty-seven," the cashier with severe skin trouble announces quietly. I hand her the money, and she slips the receipt into my bag. "Thank you for shopping at Clinique." So far the six to ten-page list hasn't shrunk. I strike off two items from my list.

Christmas can go burn in hell.

"Oh, Christmas. Isn't it a beautiful holiday?" Tori struts across to Victoria's Secret in her plaid mini-skirt and polo, me hesitantly following behind.

Christmas wasn't even originally a gift giving holiday. In fact, Christmas is the reason Hanukkah is a gift-giving holiday--because all the little Jewish kids were jealous of their Christian friends.

"Hey, miss, you dropped something." I whip around, and a guy holds up the small container of ugly purple gunk. Tori's standing before the entrance of the store, hands on her hips. "I'm sure you wouldn't be too happy if you lost this."

"No kidding." Stupid thing cost me fifteen bucks. Tori runs off to meet our other friends who were shopping for us. They better not have bought more useless junk. "Christmas shopping runs me up the wall."

"Oh, I agree." He sighs. "I've decided I'm just getting everyone an iTunes gift card. That satisfies almost everyone's wishes...I hope." He chuckles as he tugs as his brown hair. "By the way, my name's Jon."

I grin. "I'm Desiree."

"Very pretty," Jon claims, shoving his hands in his pockets.

"Not really; it's more of a...'white trash' name." Adding an accent on the first "e" would create a more...French vibe. Without the accent, it's just as bad as "Lou Anne" or "Bobbi Marie".

He frowns. "I beg to differ; it's a beautiful name." The slap of twenty-five dollar flip-flops, and Tori's back at my side, smile plastered on her face. Oh God, don't embarrass me in front of this man. Please. Saint Nick, if you're out there, you'd be tackling her to the ground right now.

"Hey...we're going down to Starbucks for a little break." She winks at me and skips away. "You can join us if you want, mystery man."

"Do your friends bite?" He chews on his lip.How cute.

"Well...if you don't mind, I'd like to finish my Christmas shopping before I meet them down for some over-priced luke-warm coffee." I step towards Bloomingdale's instead. Screw Victoria's Secret. "Care to join me in my quest to finish my six-to-ten-page list?"

Jon links his arm with me. I laugh. This should be loads of fun. "Why, I'd love to." And together, we march off into the jungle of men and women attempting to hurriedly finish their shopping.