Chapter 3
Chapter Three
Marcie
“In a small town in Germany, a family of bakers was busy grinding almonds into a paste with corn syrup, sugar and an egg. Once it was a dough, they’d press the paste into molds and voila! Glucksschwein were born!”
“Gluckess what?” Henry asked.
“Glucksschwein,” I repeated. It’s German for ‘lucky pig’.”
“Awww, that’s so cute,” Jenna said, reaching out to pat the head of one of her pigs.
“Go on, tell us more,” Emma encouraged from where she’d scooted to the edge of her chair, her eyes wide.
“Where was I? Oh, right, lucky pig. Anyway, every Christmas people would make marzipan pigs and other desserts to share. They were so popular the tradition spread from country to country until one day, it even reached America when a family from Spain sailed across the ocean blue.”
Chuckles had me looking up to see Daddy exchanging a look with Uncle Leo and Aunt Tilda. I felt a little guilty for drawing the story out, but then Daddy smiled at me.
“Go ahead, babygirl. What happened next?”
“Well, it turns out that at the time almonds were hard to find, so they tried to substitute vanilla to make their marzipan dough. However, being Americans, a family from New York didn’t think the result tasted all that good.
They decided to add something truly magical to make them so much better.
And it does! Now these pigs aren’t made with almonds or vanilla.
Instead they are made with peppermint which is most definitely a Christmas flavor. ”
“Like Peppermint Mocha Lattes!” Jenna contributed.
“Exactly! I’m always begging Daddy to get me one the moment Starbucks announces they’re back. I love those,” Chloe piped in.
“Hardly exactly the same,” Henry scoffed. “You can’t drink a pig.”
He’d always been far more pragmatic than the rest of us, but I was pretty sure we could bring him around.
“True, but what’s even more important is that you can’t smash a latte, well, not without making a humungous mess,” I said.
“But you absolutely must smash a peppermint piggie to smithereens or else it doesn’t work. ”
Every pair of eyes swiveled to land on me like I’d suddenly sprouted a second head, or maybe morphed into some sort of monster. It probably didn’t help assure them of my sanity when I started to giggle at the way they all looked absolutely horrified.
“And here I believed you thought venison was awful,” Daddy said.
“I don’t think I like this story.” Emma’s displeasure showed as she crossed her arms across her chest and scooted back in her chair.
This wasn’t going the way I’d planned. “It’s not a bad thing, it’s just what you have to do!”
“I’m not smashing my piggies!” Jenna said.
“Me either!” Dawn shouted, “Mommy, save yours!”
“No, no! Wait, let me explain!” Tears threatened as I watched my friends scooping all the pigs within reach off the table and into their laps. I turned to where my Daddy sat. “I didn’t mean… that’s not…”
“Shhh, it’s okay, babygirl.” He pushed back his chair and I shot out of mine and into his arms. “I’ve got you,” he assured me as he wrapped his arms around me after pulling me onto his lap.
“Let’s settle down. I promise there is no way that Marcie would ever want anyone to smash the pigs. I’m sure it’s a misunderstanding.”
I lifted my head from where I’d pressed it into his neck and wailed, “That’s just it, Daddy. You do have to smash them!”
He looked momentarily shocked but then became my rock yet again. “Okay, but there has to be a good reason, right?”
A ray of light shone through the black of my clenched eyelids. They flew open and I nodded. “Yes! That’s when the magic happens!”
He smiled and brushed his thumbs over my cheeks to swipe the escaped tears off. “Okay then, why don’t we pick up the story when the magic happens?”
I nodded, taking another moment to breathe while other Bigs settled their upset Littles down. Once they turned their attention back to me, albeit with a great deal less of anticipation in their expressions, I began again.
“When you receive a peppermint pig, it comes like this.” I leaned forward to slip my hand beneath the blooms of a poinsettia and pulled something free.
I held it up so they could all see it was a red velvet bag.
Expressions softened with curiosity as I worked the ribbon open and pulled out a piggie.
I bit my lip as I pulled out the last item and winced a little when I heard a few gasps at the sight of the small silver mallet.
“The purpose of Christmas is to share our love for each other, right? That’s why we give gifts and do extra nice things for people. To remind everyone how very blessed they are when they have family and friends to share their lives?”
I was very grateful when heads nodded. “That’s what these pigs do for us,” I continued, taking another calming breath as I set the pig on a small saucer I’d also hidden beneath the flowers.
“Friends and family gather around and gently tap the pig until it breaks.” My first tap was far too light to break a piece off, but I was terrified I was going to have a piggie mutiny if I hit harder.
I’d never been more grateful for pragmatism as when Henry spoke up.
“You’re tapping like a girl,” he said. “Hit it harder.”
With permission given, even if dubious, I tried again and, this time, I managed to dislodge one of the pig’s tiny ears. I instantly dropped the mallet and picked up the piece. “Once you have a piece, you share something you’re grateful for in your life.” I looked up to my Daddy and saw him smile.
“I’m grateful to have the best Daddy in the entire world,” I said, meaning every word. “Then, you eat the candy and the magic of that blessing will continue for another year.” I popped the candy in my mouth and instantly felt my eyes go wide. “Wow, that’s really pepperminty!”
Laughter was such a wonderful sound. So much better than horrified gasps.
“Oh, then you pass the mallet and the pig to the next person and they do the same thing. That’s where the sharing all the magic comes in!”
I picked up the mallet and presented it to my Daddy, who took it and grinned. “So, I just tap it anywhere?”
“Yep, anywhere at all, until a piece falls off!”
I should have known which end he’d choose.
He didn’t go for the other ear. Nope, he went directly for the curly little tail.
Giggles started when he pretended to tap it but missed until my friends where shouting for Uncle Austin to hit harder.
Finally, the tail came free and he held it up in triumph.
“I’m grateful to have the best Little girl with the cutest little tail in the entire universe!”
As I mock-swooned, he popped the tail in his mouth and when his eyebrows began to wiggle and waggle, I started to giggle. He passed the plate the Chloe who had absolutely no hesitation in smacking the pig.
Blessings and laughter and gratitude was shared from person to person until the plate had made a full circle. Only a small hoof remained on the plate. I picked it up and held it out. My eyes began to burn with the love I felt for all these people.
“I love you,” I barely managed before tears started streaming down my face. “I wish you all prosperity and nothing but good luck in the coming year.” Chairs scraped back as Littles were released to surround me in love and squeeze me practically to death with hugs.
“We love you too!” Emma said.
“And I love pigs!” Henry declared with such enthusiasm that my tears turned into laughter.
As we settled, I helped serve dessert. Daddy slid a slice of his cheesecake on each plate and I’d top it with a pig, then Aunt Tildy passed them around the table.
“Why are these pigs chocolate?” Henry asked, plucking his off his slice and licking its hooves.
“Oh, that’s because the pigs have different names. The Daddy pig is named Clarence, he’s the biggest. Then there is Noel, the Mommy pig, and their Littles, Holly and Baby Tucker, he’s the one dipped in chocolate.”
Nods and smiles met my eyes as I glanced around our friends. So much for the horror of smashing them. It seemed no one was having the least bit of difficulty in eating them. If in doubt all one had to do was listen to Henry.
“He’s even better than bacon!” Henry declared around a mouthful of Baby Tucker.
After dinner was over, we all gathered in the living room to start planning this year’s Christmas extravaganza.
I’d never been so happy, nor so relieved, to receive unanimous approval of my idea.
In fact, I was a little worried Emma was going to have a headache from nodding her head so vigorously practically nonstop.
Aunt Tilda looked up from where she’d been taking notes. “So, to summarize, not only will the club host the annual party, but starting this weekend, we will begin to offer our guests the opportunity to adopt a pet.”
“Purchase-a-Piggie, Mommy,” Dawn corrected.
“The whole objective is to get all the members of the club to not only see how cute they are, but to want one. Using subliminal marketing will have them lining up to buy one, or maybe even more.” When her Mommy’s response was to simply stare at her, Dawn reached over to tap the tablet. “Go ahead, you can write that down.”
And here I thought my Daddy was the only one who could stare at someone that particular way, but I was witnessing my Aunt Tildy giving Daddy a run for his money.
“I mean, just to help me remember it, you know how forgetful I can be.”
Aunt Tildy didn’t seem the least bit impressed as Dawn backpedaled faster than a contestant in the Tour de France.
“First of all, the entire purpose of subliminal marketing is that the message is concealed. Now, please feel free to correct me if I’m wrong, but I do believe that using the word ‘purchase’ is in direct opposition of targeting a buyer’s subconscious.”