The shop didn’t get many customers. It didn’t have realtors screaming “Location! Location! Location!”. But it was a shop no less and Diane was in desperate need to find a present for her father. Christmas had always been an ugly affair for Diane’s family. Gift giving was hard for a dysfunctional family like hers. Hopefully she could find an acceptable knick knack in this dreadful establishment that would at least put a faint smirk on her father’s pitted face.

Inside she could see little to be excited about. A few stands were scattered about the claustrophobic space. Each stand had either a stack of books or a pile of gross looking jars. With each stand she scrutinized her hope drained slightly. How draft this poor shop was. Short and ugly, the ceiling still had the popcorn remnants from the eighties. Suddenly her draining hope turned into casual disappointment when she saw that no clerk was at the register. How am I going to get to the family party if I’m stuck in this heap of junk she thought to herself.

Right when her despair and patience had reached its maximum a quaint and lowly voice spoke from behind her.

“Such rush in the Christmas season brings ones eyes to droop, young lady.”

Diane flipped around to see what appeared to be a glob of wrinkles and gray hair. But it was that of an old woman.

“Yes,” Diane complained, “Especially when you do your Christmas shopping for the most impossible people on the eastern side of the Mississippi.”

“Sure, sure, impossible people are the bane of the Christmas shoppers existence,” the old lady said, “Yet, this shop’s specialty is impossible people.”

What luck, Diane thought sarcastically.

“Well if it’s luck your seeking your in the right place, dear.” The old lady spouted dryly.

Diane stood stunned in utter confusion. Had she let her tong slip the thoughts in her mind? Or had the entirety of this experience been one awful and sour dream. Unfortunately it was neither.

“Who is it that you wish to give a gift to, dear”

“My father”

The women sighed with understanding. The woman turned her back to Diane and rummaged through the one of the many piles of jars. She turned and pulled out a ugly jar with a amber liquid inside.

“A difficult whiskey for a difficult father.”

Alcohol was a good present for an uptight bastard like her father. But Diane felt reluctance.

“Home brewed I presume” Diane said.

“Yes but the home this was once brewed in is now rubble in the mountains of Scotland” the old lady explained,” it’s been bottled for nearly a century. The one who was said to brew in that area these days was a eerie scientist. Who drunk himself mad on his own strong liquor.”

“ a good story for a bad present”, Diane said, “How much for it?”

“Forty dollars”

Diane bought the jar. To her own displeasure she knew this would not get the faint smirk. But alcohol is alcohol.

Diane’s eagerlessness was apparent at the party. How she hated a family gathering. The political squander, the unnecessary yelling, and the hypocritical religious practices. But most of all the gifts are what killed her enjoyment most of all. No gift given to her was thoughtful. It was always a phone case for a phone she didn’t have or an electric blanket that broke on it’s fourth use.

In a circle they sat in a showy living room. Diane’s siblings exchanged half-assed compliments and gratitude over regifted electric pencil sharpeners and boring card games. All while Diane’s father sat in his chair reading a book and smoking a pungent cigar.

“Alright now,” Diane’s sister said” gifts for dad, Diane you have a small package so you go first”.

Diane placed the wrapped jar on her inattentive father’s lap. He glared down at the package through thin spectacles. His attitude toward the gift when he opened it was expected. He opened the jar and then dipped the amber liquid.

“It’s good,” he said,” thanks Diane.

She felt good. Maybe it was a nice present. More exchanging went on and Diane’s father developed a stomach ache. Hundred year old whiskey does that to the average man. But this stomach pain was burning. Like a fi re inside his stomach cavity.

Suddenly the shape of his nose changed. It shrunk into itself. Concern took over his furrow brow. He screamed with intensity.

He slowly turned into a mush.