My eyes are burning from not being able to blink, enraptured. “I want him to mime the content of Leon of Naples,” I say, “while delivering lines from Blade Runner.”

Lucas draws a long plastic sword from his scabbard. Begins to fight the same railing that took Napoleon’s mother’s life. Then, in a bid to colonize the ocean, he jumps off the ship, right over a shark, and launches into his monologue.

*

Chapter Ten

Countdown to Christmas:
6 Days

#DorminationElimination LUCAS DORMER UNHINGED ON DANCING WITH THE STARS.

JENNA JOHNSON SPEAKS OUT: “I don’t know what happened. I couldn’t make him stop.”

DEREK HOUGH BREAKS HIS SILENCE ON LUCAS DORMER’S OFF-THE-RAILS PERFORMANCE ON DWTS WITH A COMMENT ON CANDY OLSHIP’S TIKTOK: [Pictured: A chocolate chip cookie emoji, thought to be a nod of support for Bettie Hughes. Fans and detractors associate the scandal-plagued star with the chocolate chip cookie emoji (in lieu of a Little Debbie Raisin Creme Pie).]

“NONE OF YOU UNDERSTAND ART!” NYT Writer Kelly Frederick Claps Back.

TONIGHT AT 11: INTERVIEW WITH DISGRUNTLED DWTS FOURTH-PLACE CONTESTANT, WHICH REMARKABLY ISN’T LUCAS DORMER. “Do you KNOW who my father is?”

“This is excellent,” I snicker, scrolling through trending remarks on every social media platform. “Rot in social backlash hell, you dumb son of a bitch.”

Hall shows his dissatisfaction today by wearing a sweater with Heat Miser’s face knitted on it (I am also wearing a knitted sweater, made by request, which says BETTERIE THAN REVENGE). Last night after we went to bed, he was going on about how much he was looking forward to wrapping presents (A different bow for each box! Little sprigs of evergreen to look like miniature Christmas trees! Bells! We can get scented glitter!), to which I replied that most of us don’t wrap our gifts, we simply slip them into bags. Mom wraps, because she’s cute, but the rest of us don’t bother with fancy packaging. What counts is the fancy present inside.

“Hall, come look at this one. Lucas is a meme.” I’m joyscrolling through pictures of cats with bicorne hats Photoshopped on. Lucas has a song called “Exile” and Historical Twitter is having a field day with the lyrics.

When Hall chooses to ignore me, carefully pressing down the corners of his origami Kermit (he’s making the cast of The Muppet Christmas Carol), I lower my phone with a frown. “Oh, come on, don’t be mad about the present-wrapping. There’s nothing wrong with using bags.”

“I’m not mad,” he says airily. “Just disappointed.”

“What if I build a peanut butter bird feeder thing with you?”

He scowls. “A pity bird feeder.”

“I mean, yes. I don’t make a recreational activity out of smearing peanut butter onto pine cones, personally.” I can’t take him like this, in his Heat Miser sweater and pile of paper Muppets, hair magnificently rumpled from shoving his hand through it in frustration, not even humming Christmas classics under his breath. The full, sulky mouth and tense jawline that I certainly do not think about in a salacious way. “Do you want me to wish for a million rolls of gift wrap? We’ll wrap up the kids like mummies, it’ll be hilarious.”