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It had been a few weeks since Art had surprised you by decorating for Christmas. The tree he had gotten sat as a constant reminder of his rare but much-needed kindness.
Christmas was only in a few days. You couldn’t help but stare at the gifts below the tree. Your curiosity was getting the better of you.
At first, you had been very concerned about the gifts under the tree. What Art did was a kind gesture. Sure. But you knew Art. You knew the kind of being he was. You weren’t oblivious.
You’ve received presents from Art in the past. Presents is a strong word actually. What you had received was more of what you would call “evidence from a crime scene that Art most definitely caused wrapped up in a little box with a bow”.
However, your concern slowly dissipated when you found yourself examining the gift boxes early one morning. Art had wandered off, nowhere to be found. You had figured he was out on one of his usual sprees. Since you were alone you took the opportunity to sit in front of the tree, picking up each box.
There weren’t many which you saw as a good thing. If there were any body parts in them at least it wouldn’t be a lot.
You looked for anything that could be a sign of something gross or disturbing. No boxes were leaking any blood so that was a good start. None of the boxes smelled bad which was another good sign.
You picked up one of the black boxes, examining it with your hands. No blood, no smell. Much like the others.
You gave it a gentle shake and sighed in relief. For a moment you were scared that you might hear something crawling around in one of the boxes. You wouldn’t have been shocked if Art had snuck one of Vicky’s rats in the box to scare you.
You sat the box down with the others and a small smile spread across your face. You were still mentally preparing yourself. Just because he had opted out of body parts doesn’t mean that Art’s presents were going to be a joy to open. But you were still pleasantly surprised that the presents under the tree seemed fairly normal.
A few days passed and Christmas Eve was in full swing. Art had showed up at your house, covered in blood. The white trim of the Santa costume was no longer white. It wasn’t surprising to you. It was a routine at this point.
Art would leave for a prolonged amount of time, sometimes even days. Then he’d come to your house and you’d help clean him up. Despite his teeth and occasionally his hands, Art surprisingly seemed to like being clean after a long day of causing absolute mayhem. You would never fuss when he got blood all over your floor. And he would never put up a fuss when you lead him to the bathroom and put him in the shower.
Art had finished his shower before either of his costumes had dried all the way. You couldn’t convince him to wear anything different so he opted to roam around the house nude.
“Are you not cold?” You questioned.
He simply shook his head with a smile. You couldn’t help but giggle as he sauntered off.
Eventually, the suit was dry and you took it to Art, who got dressed.
“Do you want to watch a movie?” You asked the clown, watching him as he pulled his gloves onto his hand.
Art perked up and put his finger to his lips, tapping as if he were thinking of an answer. He grinned, nodding his head.
You both made your way to the living room and got comfortable on the couch. You found yourself watching multiple movies. A couple of Christmas classics and a couple of horror movies. Eventually, you found yourself drifting off to sleep, your head falling onto Art.
The next morning you woke up from your curled position on the couch, jumping at the sight of Art right in your face. He was sitting on the floor in front of you, silently staring at you with a smile on his face. On his head, he donned a Santa hat. You couldn’t help but wonder how long he had sat there like that. You weren’t fully sure if he even needed to sleep.
“Merry Christmas, Art.”
He stood up and grabbed your arms, pulling you up to a sitting position. He then walked over to the Christmas tree and picked up one of the black boxes under it.
Your stomach did a flip as he placed the box in your hands. It was rather light and it was wrapped up nicely with a little red bow on top.
Art sat down on the floor, crossing his legs. He patted his knees as he smiled at you.
All you could do was hope that whatever was in the box was normal as you hesitantly began unwrapping the box. Art was grinning ear to ear and you weren’t sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing.
The wrapping paper dropped onto the floor as you began to open the box. Inside was crinkly, red paper that you pulled out of the box. Underneath was an oversized dark red sweater. You pulled it out slowly, holding it up to look at it. Your fingers ran over the material. It was a good-quality sweater. You weren’t sure how or where Art had gotten it. It wasn’t like he was the type to go shopping. But he was the type to take stuff. You shrugged off the mental image of Art taking it from one of his victims. It was best not to linger.
You held up the sweater and smiled. It didn’t really matter where he got it, you couldn’t believe that Art had gotten you something so nice.
“Thank you so much, Art,” you said.
You slid down off of the couch onto the floor in front of where he sat and leaned over to hug him. He excitedly embraced you back.
You pulled off of him and looked under the tree.
“Okay, you’re next,” you said.
Art made a shocked face as if he were going to say, “You got a present for me?”
You grabbed a red box you had put under the tree a few days ago and Art gleefully took it from your hands. He quickly ripped off the wrapping and opened the box revealing a Bowie knife with a shiny white handle.
Art flipped it around in his hand, testing the weight of it. He grinned as he slid his finger along the blade and poked the tip of his digit on the pointed end.
“I was watching this movie while you were gone and these killers had a knife like that. I thought you would like it. And then I may or may not have snuck into the workshop to see if you already had one. And you didn’t, which is surprising-”
Art caused you to stop rambling when he surprised you with a hug. He never stopped you from hugging him but it was rare that he initiated it. He wrapped his arms around you. It was his way of silently thanking you.
You pulled away from Art with a smile. You glanced at the presents under the tree.
“Ready for the next one?” you asked.
Art nodded, clapping his hands together excitedly.
From the outside, the situation you found yourself in was odd, to say the least. Maybe it was even a little concerning. Living with a murderous clown wasn’t really on your bucket list nor did you ever expect to be spending a holiday with one. But here you were, exchanging gifts with the Miles County Clown. But despite the absurdity of it all, maybe spending Christmas with him wasn’t so bad after all.