The Sixth Day of Christmas

Well, it had been several days since I’d last seen my true love, and I was starting to wonder where he was. True, he kept sending his love in the form of gifts—but what strange gifts! (See the five previous posts.) I didn’t know what to make of any of them.

At any rate I was tired of trying to figure it out. When evening came, I wandered through the empty rooms of my house, disconsolate. I even considered taking the sheet off of Leo II’s cage and listening to him sing for awhile, just for the illusion of company.

The fact that I could entertain that idea for one millisecond made me more depressed than ever.

I went outside onto my front porch and sat in a deck chair, leaning forward and putting my chin in my hands as I stared out to the street. The plain fact was, I was feeling lonely. I wanted to see my true love in person again. I wanted to see his warm, silly smile. I sighed as the setting sun slanted its rays across my lawn (well-watered and trimmed thanks to the three French Kens, who really went above and beyond their housecleaning duties).

As I watched the sun go down, I realized that I hadn’t even gotten a message from my true love today. No random cryptic notes, no odd presents. Nothing. And I have to admit, I was disappointed.

But oh me of little faith.

Twilight was falling when two police cars pulled up to the curb right in front of my house, and six officers got out. I sat up quickly, noticing that each officer was carrying something—something large. My eyes narrowed. What was going on?

“Excuse me, miss?” said one of the policeman.

“Yes, officer. Is there a problem?”

“Not at all,” he said. “Your true love sent us to play for you.” Behind him, the other police officers had set down the things they were carrying, which turned out to be instrument cases.

“Play for me?” I asked. “What do you mean?”

“Oh well, we are a musical sextet,” he answered matter-of-factly. “We’re called SPSquared.”

“What does that mean?”

“Six Policemen Playing,” he said. “We thought it sounded catchy.”

“I didn’t,” said one of the other officers, under his breath. But the first one heard him anyway, and whirled around.

“Well, it’s better than Sixy Nights, which was your idea” he snarled. Someone else snickered.

“Ok, ok,” I said. I wanted to make peace, and the lead guy was looking miffed, so I tried to say that I thought Six Policemen Playing was a great name for a band, but I choked instead. When I recovered, I decided to just ignore the whole issue of their name and move on to more important matters.

“So, what are you going to play?” I asked.

“Oh, we’re just going to serenade you for awhile. We have some nice arrangements of popular Christmas tunes,” he said. “We made them up ourselves! And we brought you a little something else to help set the mood, courtesy again of your true love,” and he whipped out a bottle of shiraz, a bar of dark chocolate, and a silver-glitter-dusted envelope.

“Ok. I guess I can deal with that,” I said, taking them. “Play on, boys.”

And that’s what they did. They began with “Away in a Manger” which I only recognized because the first guy sang the words; they had arranged it in a minor key, which was certainly… well, different. I began to appreciate having the wine. Then they moved on to “Jingle Bells” which was entirely performed on percussion instruments—primarily bongos and a glockenspiel. I found myself thinking that Leo II with all his screeching wasn’t such a bad deal after all.

Better yet, maybe he could be a useful addition to their band. Hmmm.

I was debating whether or not it would be bad form to give the loud-mouthed partridge away, considering that my true love had bestowed him upon me, when the group began playing “I’ll Be Home for Christmas” (an accordion featured prominently) and I started getting misty-eyed in spite of myself. Then I remembered the silver envelope. I opened it, and pulled out the note inside. There was just enough light to read the words:

Dear frogg princess,

Enjoy the music! See you soon…

Your true love

P.S. I miss you, too.

I smiled, leaned back in my chair, and closed my eyes while the Six Policeman Playing launched into an intriguing version of “Angels We Have Heard On High” complete with washboard and maracas…