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The Christmas Power Glove (A Silly Flash Fiction)

  • Post category:Creative Writing
  • Reading time:4 mins read

I could do anything with the Christmas Power Glove. Decorate trees, bake gingerbread cookies, send letters to Santa… inscribe my name on the moon. Woah, wait a minute, I’m letting this get to my head, it’s too much.

I’m not saying I’m blaming him, but I had a bad feeling when the glove shot 10-foot streams of fire and melted the snowman someone had made behind my car on the driveway. His carrot nose looked like a burnt hot dog. I knew we weren’t dealing with some ho-ho-homemade electronics projects, the Christmas Power Glove was bad, so bad. It made me feel like Fred Savage in The Wizard.

So, of course, the moment my friend from Thursday Geek trivia, Cincinatti, caught word of this from me, she basically left out a hearty belt of laughter at the sheer idiocy of what I was trying to describe. She’d convinced me into demonstrating it for her pretty quick, but I was still not sure why this happened.

We were already tearing through neighborhoods with fancy strings of lights put up by landscapers and holiday yard ornaments. With the Power Glove, we turned the setting of Kevin in Home Alone’s neighborhood into a poltergeist of technicolor elf detonation. Santa cleans up good I guess.

“You could make so much money on YouTube with that thing,” she said. “I’m serious, at least 2.5 million views for what we just did for sure.”

“That does not help, Cin’! What if this is some sort of…”

“Alien technology? Military project? Next-gen console leak? I’ve thought of that. You could declare the North Pole as a United Nation with that thing.”

“No, no, no, no, no,” my pupils shook like jingle bells, “The Christmas Power Glove is too much power! I shook my jowls like a sobered salesman. I mean I wanted one when I was younger, and regret passing up the one I saw a garage sale like 5 years ago before the pandemic, but I just wanted to explode ducks in Duck Hunt with my fist. This is like some kind of Chinese hand trap, like those little woven tubes you’d get for turning in tickets at the arcade. And–there’s more.”

“More? What could be more important than an infinity gauntlet level Power Glove from a collectively admired culture icon like Santa.”

I held up my arm to the streetlight as we finished throwing a plastic reindeer through a basketball hoop. The wires from the glove were starting to fuse with the tendons in my arm. Good things don’t happen to me, they never have. Cincinnati looked me in the eyes and turned red. What would I do?

That’s it, that’s the post. I hope you liked this flash fiction piece. It was fun to write, totally nonserious, maybe I’ll continue it? I have no idea. If you’re into this, let me know, I’ll do it again. I might anyway because sometimes I just need to write! Thanks for visiting Mr. Dave Pizza. Please have a look around and come back. Leave a comment if you like.