Read On Strike for Christmas for Free Online Page A

mom,” Jerri argued, “the heart of the family, the designated love giver and holidaymaker. And what if he blows it and doesn’t get them anything? Or gets them something really dumb? They’ll have to pay and that’s not fair.”
    â€œI can always get something for them and hide it, or take them on an after-Christmas shopping binge,” Kay said.
    â€œThat’s sick,” Jerri said flatly.
    â€œNo, that’s brilliant,” Laura corrected her. “I love it. Women of the world, unite.”
    Sharon snapped her fingers. “That’s it!”
    Laura looked at her, puzzled. “What’s it?”
    â€œWe really do need to unite, organize,” Sharon said. “That way we can help each other stay strong. And there’s strength in numbers, so we should let other gals know. There might be a whole bunch who want to join us.”
    â€œShe’s right,” said Kay. “Someone should call the paper.”
    â€œHa! I’d love to see a picture of Glen trying to bake cookies plastered across the front page of the Herald, ” Laura crowed.
    â€œI’d love to see all the men in this town trying to cope with Christmas shopping,” said Kay. “They all wait till the last minute to buy for us. Imagine what it would be like for these guys if they had more than one person on their list.”
    â€œThey couldn’t do it,” said Sharon.
    â€œThey’d go crazy trying,” added Laura. Her grin was positively evil. “This is going to be great.”
    Little kids possibly missing out while women stopped the holiday machine all over town. Joy began to feel like Dr. Frankenstein. She looked around the table. Sharon, Laura, and Kay were on a holiday high-jinks high and Debbie was nodding her support. Jerri was shaking her head while Carol was looking downright depressed.
    Joy left the store later feeling a little depressed herself. Here it was, the season of giving, of happy holidays and peace on earth, and look what she’d started. And where. The good citizens of Holly tended to take the holiday season seriously. The whole downtown was already festooned with swags and giant candy canes, and every shop window boasted some kind of holiday display. The big sign outside the Town and Country grocery store had the dates posted for performances of A Christmas Carol by the Holly Players, and the paper had just announced its annual Christmas tree–decorating contest.
    Joy had only wanted to help Bob see the light. She had never intended to bring other women on board. She should call this off before it got really ugly. Anyway, she’d made her point and Bob had gotten the message.
    By the time she let herself into her house she had repented of her wicked ways and was ready to go to Bob and promise to do it all. Christmas was too important to be held hostage by a disgruntled wife.
    Then she saw the mess in the living room and her remorse hardened into resolve.
    There, in the middle of the room with its warm and inviting overstuffed sofa and chairs and lovely Sheridan end tables, sat their Christmas tree, a testimony to the power of passive-aggressive behavior. Christmas tree, what was she saying? This wasn’t a Christmas tree, only a terrible parody of one. Bob hadn’t even bothered to spread the branches out to make it look more natural when he set it up, so they all shot straight toward the ceiling in one big, fresh-out-of-the-box, ugly tower. He’d slapped on the lights unevenly, hadn’t even bothered with the gold bead chains that had been her mother’s, and had hung only a few ornaments. The poor angel dangled from the top at a drunken angle, ready to topple any minute. The whole thing looked like the work of a madman.
    Rage welled up in Joy. She threw down her purse and knitting bag and marched across the room. She was going to pick up this tree and hit Bob over the head with it. Oh, how could he? How childish, how