Omri Casspi reclined on his couch, tablet in hand, watching some trashy rom-com on Netflix, joined only by an empty carton that once contained General Tso’s chicken. He didn’t particularly care about the plot of the movie; there was a chick, there was a dude, and maybe, if he was lucky, they’d screw at the end. He just wanted something to distract him from all the celebrations of the day.
He had zoned out for a bit, not paying even the slightest heed to the screen in front of him, when he heard his doorbell ringing, followed immediately by impatient pounding. Pausing the movie, he got up, accidentally stepped on an unused packet of soy sauce, and answered the door. He was greeted by a large black man wearing a full Santa outfit, carrying a sack over his shoulder.
“DeMarcus, what are you doing here?” Omri asked, resignedly.
DeMarcus Cousins grasped his belly and laughed. “Ho Ho Ho! That’s Santa Cuz to you, Omri! I was in the area, and I thought, why not spread Christmas cheer to those who need it the most?”
“In the area, wearing a Santa outfit? Likely story. I don’t need any of your Christmas cheer.”
“Is that General Tso’s chicken I smell?” DeMarcus said, ignoring his friend. “If you don’t want to be stereotyped, I don’t know why you’d do such a stereotypical thing as eating Chinese food on Christmas!” he continued, walking into the apartment and taking a seat on the couch.
“I like Chinese food on all days of the year.” Omri replied as he closed the door and meandered back to the couch, flumping down next to “Santa Cuz”.
DeMarcus looked around, eyes wide with mock surprise. “But Omri, where’s your Christmas tree? Where’s your tinsel, ho ho ho, your stockings, and your colored lights?”
“Do you have to be so inconsiderate? You know full well that I don’t do Christmas, man. I never have, and you know the reason.”
DeMarcus dropped his act. “Yeah, and your reason is bullshit. Everyone knows that Christmas is a secular holiday, devoid of religious significance, able to be celebrated by every man, woman, and child as a senseless display of consumerism with a mountain of unneeded material goods and fake goodwill.”
“Some might think that, but I…”
“So do you want my gift or not? I ain’t come all this way for nothing.”
Omri paused, considering. “Fine, but if it’s like a nativity scene or something I swear I’m gonna punch your ugly face.”
“You’ll see.” DeMarcus said, smiling, as he reached into his sack, pulled out a picture frame, and handed it to his teammate.
It was a dateless picture of DeMarcus and Omri, laughing over another one of DeMarcus’ lame jokes, badly photoshopped so that they were both wearing Santa hats. Underneath was the caption “Bros for life.”
Omri’s eyes began to water. “DeMarcus…”
DeMarcus smiled. “You gonna get all sappy on me again? Forget about it. Now, I think Santa Cuz has got something else in his sack of surprises, something called eggnog, and you know, not the pussy stuff either, he’s got his own special recipe. You down?”
“I’m down.” Omri replied, smiling.
“Now that’s what I’m talking about! Merry Christmas, you frickin’ heathen!”