Christmas with Louise - Motorola Q Forum

Geekster · 12-19-2007, 05:32 AM

As a joke, my brother used to hang a pair of panty hose over his
fireplace before Christmas. He said all he wanted was for Santa to fill
them.

What they say about Santa checking the list twice must be true because
every Christmas morning, although Jay's kids' stockings were overflowed,
his poor pantyhose hung sadly empty.

One year I decided to make his dream come true. I put on sunglasses and
went in search of an inflatable love doll. They don't sell those things
at Wal-Mart. I had to go to an adult bookstore downtown. If you've never
been in an X-rated store, don't go. You'll only confuse yourself. I was
there an hour saying things like, "What does this do?" "You're kidding
me!" "Who would buy that?"

Finally, I made it to the inflatable doll section. I wanted to buy a
standard, uncomplicated doll that could also substitute as a passenger
in my truck so I could use the car pool lane during rush hour.

Finding what I wanted was difficult. Love dolls come in many different
models. The top of the line, according to the side of the box, could do
things I'd only seen in a book on animal husbandry. I settled for
'Lovable Louise." She was at the bottom of the price scale. To call
Louise a "doll" took a huge leap of imagination.

On Christmas Eve, with the help of an old bicycle pump, Louise came to
life.

My sister-in-law was in on the plan and let me in during the wee morning
hours, long after Santa had come and gone, I filled the dangling
pantyhose with Louise's pliant legs and bottom. I also ate some cookies
and drank what remained of a glass of milk on a nearby tray. I went home
and giggled for a couple of hours.

The next morning my brother called to say that Santa had been to his
house and left a present that had made him VERY happy but had left the
dog confused. She would bark, start to walk away, then come back and
bark some more. We all agreed that Louise should remain in her panty
hose so the rest of the family could admire her when they came over for
the traditional Christmas dinner.

My grandmother noticed Louise the moment she walked in the door. "What
the hell is that?" she asked. My brother quickly explained, "It's a
doll."

"Who would play with something like that?" Granny snapped. I had several
candidates in mind, but kept my mouth shut. "Where are her clothes?"
Granny continued.

"Boy, that turkey sure smells nice, Gran," Jay said, trying to steer her
into the dining room. But Granny was relentless. "Why doesn't she have
any teeth?" Again, I could have answered, but why would I? It was
Christmas and no one wanted to ride in the back of the ambulance saying, "Hang on Granny! Hang on!"

My grandfather, a delightful old man with poor eyesight, sidled up to me
and said, " Hey, who's the naked gal by the fireplace?" I told him she
was Jay's friend. A few minutes later I noticed Grandpa by the mantel,
talking to Louise. Not just talking, but actually flirting. It was then
that we realized this might be Grandpa's last Christmas at home.

The dinner went well. We made the usual small talk about who had died,
who was dying, and who should be killed, when suddenly Louise made a
noise that sounded a lot like my father in the bathroom in the morning.
Then she lurched from the panty hose, flew around the room twice, and
fell in a heap in front of the sofa.

The cat screamed. I passed cranberry sauce through my nose, and Grandpa
ran across the room, fell to his knees, and began administering mouth to
mouth resuscitation. My brother fell back over his chair and wet his
pants and Granny threw down her napkin, stomped out of the room, and sat
in the car. It was indeed a Christmas to treasure and remember.

Later in my brother's garage, we conducted a thorough examination to
decide the cause of Louise's collapse.

We discovered that Louise had suffered from a hot ember to the back of
her right thigh. Fortunately, thanks to a wonder drug called duct tape,
we restored her to perfect health. Louise went on to star in several
bachelor party movies.

I think Grandpa still calls her.