One year I decided to make his dream come true. I put on sunglasses and went in search of an inflatable love doll. They don't sell those things at Wal-Mart. I had to go to an adult bookstore downtown. If you've never been in an X-rated store, don't go. You'll only confuse yourself. I was there an hour saying things like, "What does this do?" "You're kidding me!" "Who would buy that?" Finally, I made it to the inflatable doll section.

I wanted to buy a standard, uncomplicated doll that could also substitute as a passenger in my car so I could use the car pool lane during rush hour. Finding what I wanted was difficult. Love dolls come in many different models. The top of the line, according to the side of the box, could do things I'd only seen in a book on animal husbandry. I settled for 'Lovable Carol." She was at the bottom of the price scale. To call Carol a "doll" took a huge leap of imagination.

On Christmas Eve, with the help of an old bicycle pump, Carol came to life.

We all agreed that Christmas Carol should remain in her panty hose so the rest of the family could admire her when they came over for the traditional Christmas dinner. My grandmother noticed Carol the moment she walked in the door. "What the hell is that?" she asked. My brother quickly explained, "It's a doll." "Who would play with something like that?" Granny snapped. I had several candidates in mind, but kept my mouth shut. "Where are her clothes?" Granny continued. "Boy, that turkey sure smells nice, Gran," Steve said, trying to steer her into the dining room. But Granny was relentless. "Why doesn't she have any teeth?" Again, I could have answered, but why would I? It was Christmas and no one wanted to ride in the back of an ambulance saying, "Hang on Granny! Hang on!"

My grandfather, a great old guy with poor eyesight, crept up to me and said, " Hey, who's the naked gal by the fireplace?" I told him she was Steve's friend. A few minutes later I noticed Grandpa by the mantel, talking to Carol. Not just talking, but actually flirting. It was then that we realized this might be Grandpa's last Christmas at home.

The dinner went well. We made the usual small talk about who had died, who was dying, and who should be killed, when suddenly Carol made a noise that sounded a lot like my father used to sound in the bathroom, in the morning. Then she lurched from the panty hose, flew around the room twice, and fell in a heap in front of the sofa. The cat screamed. I snorted cranberry sauce through my nose, and Grandpa ran across the room, fell to his knees, and began administering mouth to mouth resuscitation. My brother fell back over his chair and wet his pants and Granny threw down her napkin, stomped out of the room, and sat in the car.

It was indeed a Christmas to treasure and remember. Later in my brother's garage, we conducted a thorough examination and found the cause ofChristmas Carol's collapse. We discovered that Carol had suffered from a hot spark to the back of her right thigh. Fortunately, thanks to a wonder drug called duct tape, we restored her to perfect health. Christmas Carol went on to star in several bachelor party movies. I think Grandpa still calls her whenever he can get out of the house.

RR