Wrapper Wanted

Materials like scissors, clear tape, a box and of course wrapping paper laid out like an assortment of tools fit for a letter bomber. That’s how he felt, anyway. Forty-year-old husband and father Ferg Whitmore had just bought gift bags in the past. Now, he looked at this as a challenge.

His single father always wrapped gifts for his brother Eddy and he during Christmas. He wanted to be like him. He, yet, did not possess the will nor the way.

The tape mocked him and the wrapping jeered. “You can’t make a wrapped gift yourself. Sure, you saw some online videos. Ha! You’ve got to take a bit longer to practice. Ha, ha!” The box and paper guffawed in his head.

Each taunt never deterred him. Ferg sized up the box. He made cuts and adhered tape to the paper spots. The box lifted its eyebrows in astonishment.

The gift had taken shape. Excellent shape. Ferg felt satisfied as the whole idea came to fruition. He wpied his hands like he had completed a ten-thousand piece puzzle. He then looked behind him for a string and a bow. The gold and blue sheer paper covering the box looked exquisite with the red bow atop.

He noticed that he only had about thirty more boxes of varying sizes and shapes to master. Ferg sighed. He let the din of the other boxes play in his mind like the radio.

Their laughing arose at each new product. Finally he shut them all up with a few snips and the addition of the final bow.

On Christmas morning, he handed his daughter her gift.

“I don’t want to open it, Daddy. It’s too pretty!”

You can’t unwrap your gift and have it, too, Love,” He reworded a common phrase.

She hugged him.