"Move over," Claire told Allison as she and Bender squeezed into their pew at St. Xavier's. "Well Bender, nice suit there, "Andrew chuckled at it, "Whose bed sheets did you have to cut up to get it?"

"Just shut up, Clark, OK!?" Bender demanded to him, "This damn zoot fruit suit was the only one of Delbert's that wasn't made for a Paul Bunyon-size guy!"

"Shhhh!!" the old lady in the pew behind him hissed, "I'm trying to listen to the music if you don't mind, whippersnapper!"

Bender gave her a harsh glare. "So where's Regan MacNeill?" he asked even louder.

"She's right there in the third row," Brian pointed up at Chandra, who was leading the young adult section of the choir, "And I'll have to ask you not to call her that."

"Oh yeah, I forgot, it'll be hell and damnation for me if I don't," Bender grumbled.

"She really does sing well," Andrew said, apparently able to specifically locate Chandra's voice over the sixty or so young people singing, "You know, if she'd just come out of her shell more and say hello to some record company, they could make her the next Mariah Carey, seriously. It's a shame you guys missed the rest of the service. It was a whole lot better than I'd thought it would have been when we were in here a couple of hours ago."

"Well if you think I'd want to waste my time listening to that older-than-water, so-called holy man ramble on and on about a birth that never happened, Clark, you'd be...."

"I said cork it, twit!" the old lady bark at him again.

"You cork it, grandma!" Bender yelled back at her.

"Claire, are you sure you're all right?" Allison asked her. Claire took a deep breath in an attempt to hold back the tears. "I'll be fine," she said softly, "It's just....I mean, I'm not surprised that it happened, it should have happened years ago, but.......when it's your parents who....."

"They finally broke up, didn't they? "Allison surmised. Claire nodded weakly.

"If you want, I can have Chandra arrange a quick meeting with Reverend Herdman for you after the service in about two minutes," Brian offered to her, checking his watch, "After all, we're not really on any schedule to go to the dance."

"Brian, you can think what you want about her, but I'm not going to stoop low enough to spill out my woes to some old guy who's probably knocking up the altar boys," Claire said firmly, "I'll probably be able to handle it myself. And I DEFINTELY don't need any help from her."

"Claire, has it ever occurred to you that Chandra cares for you!?" Brian said rather sharply, "Even though all you can do is spew acid in her face, she still respects you as a real person. Has from the first moment she saw you. Now if you're bent on being an island, I'm not going to try and force you to change, but she'd do everything in her power to make sure you're cheered up. Because that's what she's always wanted to do, cheer people up. It's just too bad that none of us would ever give her a chance."

There was a moment of silence before Claire sighed deeply in resignation. "I'll talk to her about it--don't really want to--but if she suggests it as well, I'll go ahead with it," she conceded, "I've never really liked counseling or its so-called therapy with....."

"ALL OF YOU BE QUIET!!!" yelled the old lady loud enough so that everyone in the three pews ahead and behind them turned and looked at her, "I want to hear the last verses!"

"You know what, HAG?" Bender retorted to her, "You are really getting on my nerves! Why don't you just cart your old carcass out back and.....?"

"That does it!" the old lady grabbed him by the collar, tossed him into the aisle, and started whacking him with her purse. The approaching recessional procession calmly walked around the fracas, which ended when the organ played the first few strains of Handel's Messiah once they'd reached the rear of the church. At that point, the old lady got up, snorted in victory, and walked off. 'Yeah, well next time you won't be so lucky!" Bender yelled after her, "Nobody gets me twice!"

"Bender, get a grip for the love of God," Andrew complained to him as they walked toward the rear of the church.

"Well Clark, I think I have the right to defend myself when she started it," Bender said in self-defense.

"So, did you like it?" Chandra strode up to them, looking hopeful.

"Yeah, it was great," Allison patted her on the back, "And so were you. Claire's got something she'd like to talk with you about."

"Did you have to bring it up right away!?" Claire groaned at her. Turning slowly to Chandra, she said with much difficulty, "Look, this is hard for me.....don't think that this means I like you at all.....but if you could.....what I'm trying to say.........I could really have a word with your father."

"My father won't be able to help you at all," Chandra said with bitterness, "He's a complete coward who doesn't care."

"Not your FATHER, your Father," Claire pointed to Reverend Herdman at the back of the church, where he was shaking hands with his parishioners. "Oh, well that I can do," Chandra's expression brightened a bit, "I think I can set that up. What's the matter?"

"It's personal and therefore none of your concern," Claire said roughly, "So just set me up and keep out of it, all right!?"

Despite this harsh retort, there was no hatred or dislike on Chandra's face as she smiled sympathetically. "I'd be glad to," she said, putting a caring arm around Claire's shoulder that was quickly pushed away, "Let me get him set up for you."

"Not too long though; we need to get to the dance eventually," Bender called after them as they walked off toward the priest.

"Why, need to meet your monthly punch spiking quota?" Andrew asked sarcastically, "Let them take as long as they need, Bender. When you need spiritual healing, it takes time. And besides, it's not like anything out of the ordinary's going to happen at the dance."

"Better let me go in first," Neal told Clark as they turned up the driveway to the Griswold's house, "If she's still mad at you, I might as well give her a cushion of reasonable happiness before she tears you apart."

Clark nodded in agreement. Neal walked up the stairs to the door. He'd taken an hour-long shower since he'd arrived back at home and slipped into slightly less casual wear than usual (in his case, this meant a plaid shirt, gray trousers, a gray button-up cardigan, and brown loafers) and felt better than he had in days. He rang the doorbell. Ellen answered it. "Neal, you made it back here in one piece," she said, seemingly amazed he had. "I'm amazed myself," Neal told her, "How's things been for you and the family since you got back after the latest vacation didn't pan out?"

"Oh, we've been all around town, trying to get things back on a normal schedule, as if they're ever normal in this household," Ellen told him, "I tried to call Susan the other night to tell her I'd heard from you, but she wasn't in."

"I got her yesterday when we stopped to visit Del's father along the way," Neal told her, "I'm not sure you'd like him; he's really out there in old age."

"Once a clown always a clown, I always say," Clark added from behind him. Ellen regarded her husband coolly. "So I see you made it back in one piece too, Clark," she told him without much positive emotion, "I don't know how you handled it. Do you have something you need to tell me?"

"I love you dearly Ellen, and I'll never call you or anyone that again," Clark told her.

"And?" Ellen raised her eyebrows.

"Ellen, let me say that ever since Del and I picked up Clark, he's been sorrier for calling you and the rest of the family what he did than I've ever seen him before, which as you know is unusual since in the past he's never been 'wrong,'" Neal told her. He had no idea why he was now lying his head off for a man he still only partially liked, especially when he still didn't even know what he called his family that upset them, but he had a feeling it would ultimately be something he'd be proud of later on. "I'd like to say on his behalf that he's more than deserving of your forgiveness, and from now on, he's willing to let you have all the say on any and all future vacations, if you even go on any."

"Is this true, Sparky?" Ellen asked him. Clark, as stunned as Neal was, quickly nodded and said, "Every word of it, honey; from now on I'll be a better husband, and I'll take those anger management classes your father suggested I take, even though he's an idi--I mean a...uh, you know what I mean."

"Sort of, but not really," she told him.

"Well, now that we're all made up with each other, why don't we go in and have a nice holiday meal together?" Neal suggested. The Griswolds nodded, and they all strode inside. "Thanks for the cover there, Neal," Clark thanked him, "I don't know what I would have done if I'd been turned out."

"You can thank me by doing everything you just said," Neal said, "And besides, it is Christmas, the season of forgiveness and love. I could.....so you're Cousin Eddie?"

Clark's dreaded Kansas relative galloped toward him, arms open. "So you must be Clark's pal Neal?" the country hick said, giving Neal such a crushing hug that the salesman thought he'd be cleaved right in two, "I've been waiting a while to meet you; Ellen says Clark says so much about you." "Yes, well, I'm very touched, so with in that in mind could you please stop touching me before you kill me?" Neal croaked.

"Sorry there," Eddie released Neal, only to give his hand an overly vigorous pumping. "Well if you're hungry, we've got quite a meal set out for you," he rambled on.

"Oh really?" Neal was suspicious, "What exactly does that entail?"

"One of Catherine's specialties: roasted pronghorn bladders and prairie dog ears," Eddie said, licking his lips at the thought of this "feast."

"Uh, no thanks," Neal said quickly, "Actually, come to think of it, I ate a couple of hours ago."

"No you didn't, we..." Clark started to say, but Neal flashed him the "be quiet" look. "I wouldn't mind a drink of water, though," he added.

"Gotcha, get it for you right now," Eddie mercifully skipped off. Neal sat down on the couch with the man he knew from Ellen to be their Uncle Lewis. "So, it's been quite an eventful Christmas for you, hasn't it?" he asked the old man. There was no reply. "Oh, tired I see," he said, patting him on the shoulder, "Well, the long holiday hours do make one drowsy, I can attest to that."

"Actually, he's dead, Neal; he keeled over about an hour ago, and the paramedics are late," Ellen informed him. Neal took a mighty leap upward in shock and horror. "Why didn't you say anything right away!?" he half-shouted at her. He rushed to the bathroom and began washing his hands almost psychopathically.

There was the sound of the door being opened again. "Anyone in?" came Del's voice. Neal thought his friend sounded rather weary.

"Del, welcome," Ellen greeted him, "Are you okay? You don't look....."

"I'm fine Ellen, really," Del said quickly. From where he was standing, Neal could see clearly that Del was not okay. "Where is everybody?"

"Rusty and Audrey are at the dance, and everyone else is downtown getting a few last minute gifts," Ellen informed him.

"And I'm here," Eddie romped over and gave Del another crushing hug, although with Del's extra girth it was less of a problem for him. "Care for dinner?" the Kansan asked him.

"No, I'm not really hungry, Eddie," Del told him softly, actually I'd kind of like to be alone right now, if that's okay. Could you get me a beer, though, or some champagne?"

Ellen, apparently seeing Del really meant it, nodded and strolled with Eddie into the kitchen, after the latter handed Neal his water. Del slumped into the nearest armchair and lit up another cigarette. "I don't really think you're okay, Del," Neal said, striding over, "I know you, and you're suffering."

"Neal, I'm a terrible parent," Del said softly, "I've failed John, failed Marie's memory, and failed myself."

"No Del, you're not a failure," Neal told him sympathetically, "I might have told you this already, but if I haven't, you're probably the best person in this town qualified to be a father."

"Thanks Neal, but you're wrong," Del lamented, "I yelled and screamed at the kid; no father does that."

"No, Neal's right, Del," Clark told him from over in the corner, where he'd been fiddling with the thermostat, "You're nicest person in town. John Bender's just not the right match for someone like you."

"He's not the right match for anyone," Neal argued, "But still Del," he added to the salesman, "Now I'm willing to admit that you were right to defend him unconditionally. If you could be that caring for him when he doesn't return it, you've passed at least five tests for fatherhood. You're definitely much better than me," his shoulders slumped, "If there's a bad father in this room it's me. I've spent far too much time in New York, missed too many things. I don't deserve Susan."

"Yes you do, Neal," Clark told him, "I'm the deadbeat. I keep ignoring what the family tells me, and we keep going into disastrous......"

"You're both being too hard on yourselves," Del said, "I'm the bad one."

"I think you're all being too hard on yourselves, actually," Eddie came back in and handed Del his beer, "Couldn't help eavesdropping on you in here, and let me tell you all being a father never means being perfect."

"Well Eddie, no one knows that better than you," Clark commented, meaning it both positively and negatively. He twisted the thermostat a bit more. "What's matter with the heat in here?" he muttered to no one in particular.

"If I were all of you, I wouldn't worry any bit," Eddie went on, patting both Del and Neal on the back very hard, "As long as you really love your kids, they'll love you back no matter how much you screw up. I've learned that with Catherine and the kids a lot of times."

"Well, Eddie, I don't really have kids," Del lamented ruefully, "And I have no idea how I could get one or two anymore; state won't let me go into their pool again for at least another year....."

"There, this ought to do the trick," Clark turned the thermostat up to its highest setting, "Much better."

There was the sound of something shorting out in the basement, and the heat abruptly dropped off in the room. "Now what?" Clark twisted it around again, "It shouldn't be getting cold again."

"Clark, were you fooling with the thermostat again!?" Ellen shouted at him, "I told you two weeks ago the circuits couldn't take been set too high!"

"Whoops," Clark slapped his hand to his face, "I KNEW I forget about something in the house's....."

"Can you fix it?" Neal asked his friend, "Because the Weather Channel said it's going to get down to about ten below out there tonight, and I'm not going to freeze in here."

"Sure I can," Clark stepped toward the basement door.

"Let me do it," Ellen cut him off, "If you'll do it, you'll blow up the oil tank or something."

"Fair enough," Clark shrugged and let her down. "I guess sometimes it takes a woman's touch," he commented to the others."

"Ah, let's forget our problems here, there's still a couple of specials on tonight," Eddie flicked on the TV. "Hey, it's the Garfield special!" he exclaimed, plopping down in the chair with Neal before the executive could protest, "I love this one, where they all go down to the farm. You guys ever see this one?"

"Can't say I have," Neal groaned, feeling like he was in a vise, "Could you mind moving, Eddie? I'm a little uncomfortable here."

"Sure thing, Neal," Eddie moved all right, but not the way Neal would have hoped; the Kansan merely shifted around in the chair, pinning Neal further against the side. "You know, it's a good thing they're willing to still air good stuff on Christmas Eve," he rambled on and on, "Back at the homestead, we only get basic cable, and out there that means one VHF channel. All they do on Christmas Eve is show snow falling, and I don't mean the kind that falls from the sky....."

"Can we watch the show already?" Neal cut him off. He noticed his breath was already frosting up as the temperature of the Griswolds' house dropped like a rock. He hoped Ellen would have everything back up and running again soon.

"Yo boys," Lenny stuck his head in the McCallisters' door, "Your boss called. He wants us at the school right now."

"Gotcha, we're on our way," Harry told him. He eyed over the McCallisters and said, "Well, gotta run, our big payday awaits us," he told them, "But we'd hate to leave ya completely scott free, so we're leavin' a little gift for ya."

He withdrew what looked like a shoddily-constructed bomb from his coat pocket, set a few dials and set it on the McCallisters' coffee table, well out of their reach. In about twelve hours, ya'll all be blown sky-high," he told them, "I ain't letting' the kid off completely free this time." He turned on the TV. "Watch for us, 'cause soon we'll be on every station," he said, ultimately leaving it on Channel 3, "Come on Marv, it's show time."

"Right," Marv hefted the bag of loot Harry had cleaned out of the McCallisters' house and followed him out the door. "Ya know, it's a shame them spies got deported, 'cause I'm sure they'd loved to have helped out with this, seein's how they got...." he said as they walked out the door.

"Well, at least they were stupid enough to make it a twelve hour bomb," Kate said optimistically, relieved that they had all the time in the world to get loose and stop the burglars' poorly made concoction, "Now all we have to do is get out of here. I sure hope Kevin's okay and doesn't run into them."