Shortly after the episode with Langston, Gail called to say that contestant #4 was disqualified. He died. Which of course left me one man short and one man left before being forced to make my one final decision. A decision that as of right now had no clear front-runner, just a string of underachievers. Bottom dwellers. Like crabs at the bottom of the ocean. Not one of them had risen to the occasion. However, among these bottom-dwelling crustaceans, one can also find oysters. Oysters with pearls. Precious pearls. Sacred gems. I was determined to find a bright side, a silver lining, and a light at the end of the tunnel.

Making my list and checking it twice, my hopes were alive and my spirits were high. It was the holiday season, my favorite time of the year. Full of stars that twinkled and bells that jingled. It was the holidays. I had to believe that something good was destined to happen. I could feel it in the air.

Ensconced in my sheets, suspended in the gray area between unconsciousness and cognizance, I could almost smell Christmas; the aroma of eggnog sprinkled with cinnamon, just the way my mother would always make it, and the scent of freshly cut mistletoe. I remember when I was a kid, my mother would sneak into our rooms, wave a sprig of mistletoe under our noses, and wait for our eyes to open so she could yell “Kissy kissy!”

I tossed and turned, reaching for those last good moments of sleep. I could almost hear Momma’s voice…

“Kissy kissy! Kissy kissy! Kissy kissy!”

I opened my eyes. I realized I really was smelling the actual aroma of my mother’s eggnog flowing from my kitchen and into my bedroom, and the fragrance of freshly cut mistletoe was actually her standing over my bed waving that mistletoe less than an inch from my nose.

“Kissy kissy!” she repeated, while in her usual tradition, she leaned down and kissed both my cheeks, shifting side to side.

“Wake up little Boo bear! Momma’s here.”

“Momma,” I said looking at her with contempt. “How long have you been here?”

“Oh, not too long, just a couple hours. I let myself in. Muggly and I had a good ole time, didn’t we, Muggly?”

“Meoowwww.” Muggly had obviously been paid off as she cleaned chicken gizzard juice from her whiskers.