The Fourth Day of Christmas

When I got back from the day spa yesterday afternoon, all refreshed and relaxed, I found the house sparkling clean, the French Kens gone, Leo II moved into a brand-new cage with a very thick sheet over it to encourage his silence, and the pear tree planted appropriately in the backyard.

I slept very well that night.

The next day, I got up and went for a walk, enjoying the bright summery December weather. Flowers were blooming, birds were singing, and squirrels were chattering to each other as they scrabbled around in the oak trees that spread their strong branches over the wide, quiet streets.

Ah, California Christmas...

As I was returning home, I thought over all the things my true love had sent so far—Leo II the partridge (if that's what he really was) in a pear tree, the two turtle gloves (that I had yet to wear; I mean, who wears gloves in California?) and the three French Kens who had done such an excellent job of making my house habitable (er, not that it wasn't before, of course). It was all very sweet of him, but what did it all mean?

I was sure of only one thing: I was going to have the heck of a time finding an Equivalent Gift.

I was still mulling over this sobering realization, when I turned up my driveway, and saw four figures standing in front of my door. I stopped. They looked like people-sized white birds with long spindly legs and huge wings.

"H-hello?" I called out, tentatively. "Can I help you?"

They turned around and I saw that they actually were people. Who happened to be dressed in the costume of giant white birds, with wide-open beaks so you could see the person's face inside. What a relief, I thought.

Wait a second.

I was rethinking the relief aspect of the situation—after all, people dressing up like birds and wandering around in broad daylight might not exactly be evidence of sound minds at work—one of the birds spoke up and said, "Are you Miss Grackyfrogg?"

"Uh, yeah. Who are you?"

"We're the Four Calling Birds," she said brightly. "And we have a Christmas Song-a-Gram for you!"

"A Christmas sonogram?" I asked, baffled.

Her smile faded. "No, SONG-a-gram. You know, a singing telegram."

"Oooh." This time I was definitely relieved.

"Ahem," she said, and turned to her fellow Calling Birds. They lined up dutifully in a row, and the first bird put a little pitch pipe to her mouth and blew a single clear note. Then they all began to sing in perfect four-part harmony:


God rest ye, merry Grackyfrogg, let nothing you dismay!
We're here to sing a song for you, because your true love paid!
He says he's sorry he's not here, but though he's far away
He sends tidings of comfort and joy, comfort and joy,
He sends tidings of comfort and joy!

"Uh, thanks," I said. "That was... nice."

"Wait, we're not done," said one of the other birds. "We have one more!"

They fluttered their wings and sang:


Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa la la la la la la la la!
Kiss the frogg and let's be jolly, fa la la la la la la la la!
Your true love wants to say "I love you," fa la la la la la la la LA!
Hope you like this gift he got you, fa la la la la la la la LAAAAA!

"Cool," I said. "So what's the gift?"

The birds looked at each other. "Er, well, we are," said the first one.

"Oh."

"So, you know, we're saying, 'hope you like the songs!'"

"And the singing, too, of course," one of the other birds broke in.

"Of course. Right. Got it," I said. There was an awkward pause.

The first Calling Bird made a motion as if to look at her watch, but if she was wearing one it was hidden due to the fact that her arm was lost inside a gigantic wing. She cleared her throat. "Well anyway. Um. Guess we'll be going," she said. The Four Calling Birds then stood at attention one last time. "Merry Christmas!" they cried, before running in a flurry of feathers toward a tiny car parked by the sidewalk. Somehow they all piled in, and sped away.

I watched the car careen around the corner, then laughed and turned to go into the house. I couldn't imagine what tomorrow would bring...