Angie carefully passed the bowl with the extra marinara sauce to Mary Alice. Mary Alice had a hard time getting her hooves around the bowl, the bowl wobbled in midair and then crashed onto the table, setting loose a tidal wave of tomato sauce. Grandma reached across the table to grab the bowl, knocked over a candlestick and the tablecloth went up in flames. This wasn't the first time this had happened.

"Yow! Fire," Kloughn yelled. "Fire. Fire! We're all gonna die!"

My father looked up briefly, shook his head like he couldn't believe this was actually his life, and returned to shoveling in his lasagna. My mother made the sign of the cross. And I dumped a pitcher of ice water into the middle of the table, putting an end to the fire.

Diesel grinned. "I love this family. I just love this family."

"I didn't really think we were going to die," Kloughn said.

"Have another slice of lasagna," my mother said to Valerie. "Look at you, you're all skin and bones."

"That's because she throws up when she eats," Grandma said.

"I have a virus," Valerie said. "I get nervous."

"Maybe you're pregnant," Grandma said. "Maybe you got the morning sickness all day long." Kloughn went white and fell off his chair. Crash, onto the floor.

Grandma looked down at him. "They don't make men like they used to."

Valerie clapped her hand to her mouth and ran out of the room, up the stairs to the bathroom.

"Holy Mary Mother of God," my mother said.

Kloughn opened his eyes. "What happened?"

"You fainted," Grandma said. "You went down like a sack of sand."

Diesel got out of his chair and helped Kloughn to his feet. "Way to go, stud," Diesel said.

"Thank you," Kloughn said. "I'm very virile. It runs in the family."

"I'm tired of sitting here," Mary Alice said. "I need to gallop."

"You will not gallop," my mother yelled at Mary Alice. "You're not a horse. You're a little girl, and you'll act like one or you'll go to your room."

We all sat stunned because my mother never yelled. And even more shocking, my mother (having put her time in with me, the original space cadet) never made an issue of the horse thing.

There was a moment of silence and then Mary Alice started bawling. She had her eyes scrunched tight and her mouth wide open. Her face was red and blotchy and tears dripped off her cheeks onto her shirt.

"Christ," my father said. "Somebody do something."

"Hey, kid," Diesel said to Mary Alice, "what do you want for Christmas this year?"

Mary Alice tried to stop crying but her breath was coming in gulps and hiccups. She scrubbed tears off her face and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. "I don't want anything for Christmas. I hate Christmas. Christmas is poopy."

"There must be something you want," Grandma said.