He turned to my dad, gesturing with his drink. Did they feel like they were being disloyal to their wives? “That’s not happening,” Daisy said firmly, breaking the silence. Harley—Donder—rolled her eyes but played along, flipping her hair dramatically as she posed for the crowd. But tonight, I want you to apologize to your nephew. My eyes kept falling on Dasher’s butt crack as she returned to her spot on the floor, clearly settling in for the next round. “Alright, gentlemen,” she said, tossing her hair, “who’s ready for some sass with their sleigh?”
Her entrance sounded a little rehearsed. “Eddie won me in the swap, which means I answer to him for tonight, and he, in his infinite wisdom, has decided with your father that, as long as you don’t cause a problem, you can stay—at least for a bit. “Oh, come on,” she groaned, but Dad raised an eyebrow, and she relented. Yet now, in stark contrast, they were squatting on their toes, their asses raised, knees wide apart, arms above their heads with palms flat on top, mouths open wide enough for me to see their tonsils. Mom glanced up at him. Aunt Daisy led the charge, swaying her hips to the beat and twirling her Christmas ropes like she was on stage at a honky-tonk.
