I remembered a weird dream I had and wrote about it:

Nicholas, you drunk bum, get off your ass and help me find the toys.” Wife shuffled into the room, where Nicholas’s watery eyes gazed in the direction of the blaring television set. He burped loudly through his overgrown mustache and tapped chubby fingers against the beer bottle which balanced on his bloated stomach.

“Be quiet, woman, lemme watch the game.” he mumbled as Wife stood in front of the TV. She wiped her hands on her stained white apron and tapped her foot on the floor.

Wife shoved her face in front of his, spittle flying from her mouth as she hissed “The kids will hate you for what you’ve become, Nicholas. You’ve really out-fucking-done yourself this time.”

With these words she stomped away.

A purple vein slowly began to bulge out of Nicholas’s crimson forehead. His cheeks, already red from the alcohol, grew tomato-crimson and his drooping white eyebrows knotted into a frown as his expression grew into a grotesque mask.

“Oi!” He roared, smacking the beer aside with one fat hand. “You don’t talk to me like that!” Nicholas squeezed his hands around his black belt as he forced himself to his feet. He wobbled in the spot, this way and that, before shuffling to find Wife, boots scuffing against the stone floor. He huffed and puffed as he moved. Beads of sweat dripped down his face and chin, salt mixing with the rotting stench of his gray unwashed beard.

“Wake up, Nicholas.” Wife shrilled from the next room. “It’s the 23rd already, you fool. You’re going to show up drunk off your nut again. Pitiful, pitiful man.”

Nicholas glanced at the torn calendar on the wall. He pressed his nose against the paper and squirmed to see the date. Wife was right. As always. Nicholas spat and curled his lip up in a snarl.

“Where are the toys, woman?” He rammed a fist against the wall. “I’ll be late.”

Wife appeared in the doorway, hauling the maroon bag behind her. “There. I just patched it up.” She pointed to the patches sown in on the side.

“About time.” Nicholas growled and jerked the bag out of her hands.

Wife made a rude gesture. “Just get out of here, you old drunk. And don’t whip the deer to damn hard. We can’t afford to lose another one.”

Nicholas slammed the door behind him as he left. He swung the bulging bag onto the sleigh, and waited for the wood to stop creaking and groaning when he planted himself in the seat. He poised the leather whip in his hands and cracked it loudly over the deers’ heads.

“Go on, ye dirty animals!” He yelled. The deer dug their hooves into the ice and snow, breaking the overloaded sled out inch by inch before finally ascending into the dusk sky. The bells jingled a merry tune and all the children cheered as they struggled on.