Personal Narrative: A Christmas night concert

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“Rudolf the red nosed reindeer …,” he sang, slightly off key. His voice echoed through our home above the Boys Ⅱ, Men Christmas track which played triumphly through the hall upstairs. In only a pink cotton robe, a pair of whit satin Isotoner slippers, and a head full of three inch rollers I made my way from the bathroom down the cluttered hallway of tree tinsel and holiday ornaments to the oak balcony which overlooked the front entrance to our home. Directly below me he stood at the bottom of the solid dark oak spiral staircase singing as though he was a celebrity on stage performing a solo for a sold out crowd. His scrawny four feet five inch long body seemed remarkably clean and his attire was in perfect order for the most part. Dressed in a heavy wool-like navy jacket, a white button down dress shirt, and a horribly matched royal blue bow tie, he hardly seemed to be the same menance who always found his way into the hands of trouble. Suddenly the singing stopped. His big baby blue eyes peers up to me from the floor below. “Why aren’t you ready, Tawny? We need to go. We are going to be late!” he cried impatiently with his little stick-like arms crossed firmly against his chest. “Calm down, Joey! It’s only five O’ clock,” I screamed, “The concert does not even start for another full hour! Finish practicing your solo and before you have time to realize it, it will be time for us to leave.” On my back down the hall towards the bathroom to finish getting ready, Joey’s high pitched voice rang through the hall upstairs once again. Forty five minutes and twenty Rudolph recitations later it was little late to leave for the concert. “Joey! Joey! Where are you?” I called. “I’m out here. C’mon les go! We are already late!” I walked down the staircase, across the white tile floor, and glanced through the rose stained glass window on our front door. I saw a blur of movement on the driveway. When I opened one of the two refinished oak door, I found Joey sitting in my light blue little sedan. “C’mon already,” he cried hanging half of his body out of the sunroof. He sat back down in the car and started honking the horn. “I’m coming, you little brat! Stop honking my horn!” I called

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