Christmas, for many people, is a time to spend with family.  Of course, for me, with my mother dead, my father lost somewhere in Renaissance Italy (last I heard), and my sister always off to some fancy foreign place (usually involving gambling and martinis — shaken, not stirred), I was left with mostly in-laws-to-be.  Andrea always tries to call on Christmas Day, though, just so we can one-up each other with our recent adventures.      “Andy?” I said.  “Where are you?  I’m getting a lot of static!”      “I’m somewhere on the edge of Nepal, just inside the border of China.  I’m on one of those satellite-uplink telephone fountain pen/rocket launchers; you know how lousy their transmission is.”      “You aren’t climbing Everest again, are you?”      “Not unless they’ve got another missile up at Base Camp!”  You know how it is: petty third world dictator, nuclear missile aimed at the Himalaya lowlands, plans to set off a continental earthquake and conquer the Indian subcontinent, averted at the last moment, plus stops along the way for a lava-filled death trap or two; standard stuff.      “Nah,” she said.  “Just escorting a junior Buddhist monk to some secret monastery.  He’s supposed to be some millennial reincarnation of one Lama or another.  It’s so hard to keep track.  I think the plan is that he’ll free Tibet.”      “Yeesh, those bumper stickers get everywhere, don’t they?  ‘Free Tibet’(with minimum $50 purchase).”      “So what’s up with you, Marc?” she asked.      “Oh, just the usual,” I replied, raising my voice to be heard over the static.  “I think I stopped an alien invasion last week, but it’s so hard to be sure unless you fail.  It could have just been some unsightly bathtub mildew.”      “Yeah.  You’ve got to watch out for that grout.”      “Oh, and I got a mystery package at work the other day, but I had them return it to the sender.  About three feet long, black leather exterior, oval shape at one end with a long panhandle at the other, and a carrying handle.  There’s no way I was going to take it.”      “Sounds like a violin case.”      “Exactly, but with a jolly red bow.  I can sense the presents of organized crime, and no way do I want to get wrapped up in that.”      Suddenly, there was the sound of nylon ripping, a wailing wind, and several people yelling in some mid-Asian language.      “Dang!” said Andrea.  “Urdu ninjas!  I thought we got rid of the last of them.  Gotta go, bro!  Give my love to Dad if he ever shows up!” Family.  You’ve got to love them. Best wishes for the Holiday Season from Marc Lynx and all the “Missing Lynx” characters.   Click here to return to the main Signature Quotes page Click here to return to the main Missing Lynx page
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