The Christmas Babe, Parents Away from the Manger

Somber Ken sang Christmas morning with his seminary pals at the country parish. Wind whistled through the clapboard walls.

Why do this? The local girls’ choir didn’t help. Especially the bright-eyed brunette staring at Ken, showing off her form-fitting overcoat.

At service end, she stumbled on the loft stairs.

Ken broke her fall: “Oops.”

“Merry Christmas.”

“You too.”

“Plans tonight?”

“Just home with mom.”

“We’re hanging at Madison’s. You should come.”

“Errrr. . . .”

“Madison’s my hot girlfriend. Her parents are out of town.”

“I don’t . . .”

“I’ll show you the way. Meet me here at seven.”