CHAPTER ONE: I'M DREAMING OF A WIRED CHRISTMAS

Gunar winced with every plunge of an ivory key. The antique Steinway was hopelessly out of tune. Sharps were flat, chords ended in great dull thuds and worst of all when he ranged onto any new key, he was never sure what sound would come out. Yet, he stubbornly plowed on, clubbing Clare D'Lune to death, refusing to stop until the end. As his fingers played, his mind drifted on what the instrument should sound like, what it had sounded like, back in his grandmother and grandfather's day....clear and bell-like yet warm. Grandma played the exact same tune, every Christmas, just for him. D'Lune always was his favorite.

Wisconsin weather was never kind to the priceless piano. But grandpa always made sure it was kept in tune. He flew out his favorite tuner, old Mister Issacson, from Grand Rapids just so grandma wouldn't miss the symphony so much.

"When did you learn to play, champ?"

"Grandma taught me. You remember."

"I remember all right. I remember a snot nosed little kid with a tin ear, no sense of timing and hands that barely reached an eighth." Uncle Beorn slurped at his scotch on the rocks.

"I practiced."

"And grew too." Slurp. "Looks like those bands can reach, what..a tenth?"

"Eleventh. I grew in a lot of ways, uncle." Gunar stood and looked down on Beorn's combover.

"Humph." He met Gunar in the eye. "You didn't grow THAT much." He punched a stubby, muscular, finger exactly onto the young man's solar plexus. "Just remember, college boy, books don't teach you everything."

"The piano's out of tune."

"Who cares? No one's around who can play it anymore." Slurp.

"Then you won't mind if I fly in Issacson to tune it?"

"Sold it on EBAY two weeks ago for a hundred an fifty grand."

"That's all? The Emperor Franz Josef played on this piano."

"Priced to move, boy. Needed the money for some things. Got a nice slate top pool table all lined up to replace it. Gonna turn this into a poolroom. I think I'll put the dogs playing poker right over there." As he pointed with his highball glass, his mouth unpursed and he flashed his yellowed horse teeth.

Gunar's jaw dropped. "What happened to the Morgan?!"

"Sold it last summer. It was a Appalachian landscape anyway. Anything else? I always love it when you stop by and criticize everything. Anything else? "

"Yeah. The tree. We have 32 acres of north woods and a lake. What are we doing with a flocked tree and who decorated it?"

"Your aunt had a professional come over and do it. I like it better, not near as much work."

Gunar bit back the words, "She not my aunt. She's your trophy wife." And simply said, "It's your house."

"It's good to see you remember that. Slurp. Dinner's ready, unless you are too indignant to eat my food." Slurp.

The two men walked together. "So what did you get me this year, uncle?"

Slurp. "Every year you ask and every year I say 'I like surprises.' 'Course that's what keeps your family coming, isn't it? My rep for generosity."

"That an you my father's boss."

"Yeah. Heh heh. That too."

Gunar entered the dining room. His father's and his uncle's family were gathered around it. Only the china and silver matched. The people gathered around the table wore their sordid and varied histories on the surface, like a roomful of thrift store furniture.

Uncle Beorn freshened his scotch at the bar then took the head of the table. Beady, watchful eyes glinted over porcine jowls like black cherries atop vanilla sundaes. His belly had declared that this was the last year for his gaudy red brocaded vest. The final brass button had leapt off like flea last Christmas and his new wife had never mended it.

Jessica, his new bombshell wife, sat on his right hand. Straight white teeth shone under the seam of jelly lips. Huge breasts pushed against the Turkish red halter-top. Her platinum blonde hair was bound to make room for gold on her neck and ears. Between sloppy bites of jumbo prawn cocktail, her hands rested on the table so that the estate gold and jewels on her wrist and fingers could not be missed.

Kristin, Beorn's daughter, sat next to Jessica. Dressed all in her signature shade of pink, and glittery in her platinum body tinsel, she chatted with Jessica about her latest diet fad. Her pepto-pink nails bobbed and flicked in front of Jessica's face for emphasis. Jessica and she had SO much in common. And why not? Jessica was only three years older.

Beorn Junior, or BJ as he preferred to be addressed, sat next to his younger sister. His triangular face and sharp-featured head sat upon his willowy figure like an arrowhead atop a shaft. His lagoon blue suit, straight from Milan, was as un-Christmassy a color as he could manage. Every few minutes he sighed and checked his Rolex.

Klaus, Gunar's father, sat to Beorn's left. His head was slumped and he tugged absentmindedly at a crescent roll. Next to his, his wife Carol was working on her third glass of heavily grogged eggnog. "Pass me the pitcher of this yummy egg nog, honey."

Klaus obeyed and left the heavy Waterford pitcher within her reach.

Tore, Gunar's sister, sulked next her mother and dragged on a cheap, aromatic Indian cigarette. As Gunar sat down at the foot of the table, he noticed she had gone to extra effort to be obnoxious tonight. Her dyed flat black hair had been cut and starched extra-irregular Her heavily perforated face bore thee new insults to it left eyebrow. A silver corkscrew tine spiraled through her left eyebrow. The punctures were still red and enflamed. Tore flicked her ashes upon her bone china bread plate. Her eyes shot blue lasers through the black holes of her sockets. She drank her white wine from her place setting teacup and sneered as her father frowned at her.

Beorn pointed Gunar to the seat at the foot of the table. "You sit there."

"That's Aunt Josie's seat."

"WAS Josie's seat. Now it's whoever I choose it to be." Beorn snorted. "Besides you're too big for the side chairs."

"Thank you for the consideration." Gunar deliberately did not take the foot. He took the chair next to his sister. For extra legroom, he reached down and moved his black nylon laptop case to, quite appropriately, the top of his lap.

"What? Are you attached to that thing? Hmph. That's one reason you've never had a girlfriend, or IS that thing your girlfriend? Bwahahaha. Visit those porn sites do ya, boy? Bwaahaahhah."

BJ and Kristin joined in their father's mirth. "Nice one, dad." Kristin tittered.

Jessica did not get the joke. Klaus ignored it. Carol drank some more.

Tore blew smoke in her brother's face. "Why you don't stand up for yourself for a change, pussy."

"I have to take care of this computer. It's expensive."

"Yeah? I suppose it's about time someone in your family started caring about money."

BJ had to one-up. "I have the new VAIO."

"Really?" Gunar had to lean over the broad antique oak table to speak . "Which one?"

BJ gave a blank look. Then waxed glib. "It's the one that plays DVD's and MP3's. The top of the line one."

"Cool. Did you get it ready to go with wi-fi? Did you have to add any RAM?"

"I just told the salesman to give me all the bells and whistles."

"Sweet. Can I see it later?"

"Sure. I think I left it in the cabin of my Mercedes S class."

"The one outside?! The cold and damp will ruin it."

"Why aren't they making any more? Hahahahah" he sniffed and continued on his merry way of speaking. "Yeah. Dad says the old garage is packed already. It's that big Bayliner of his, I suppose." He winked.

"What Bayliner?"

"The one he bought last summer? Oh, that's right, you've been busy."

Aunt Josie pushing the swinging kitchen door aside with her elbow ended the conversation. She was carrying an enormous turkey, enough for twice again the number of people at the table. Seed potatoes and savory garnish circled the silver platter. Behind her, Teva, the Ojibwa maid, followed with a dish of extra chestnut stuffing turnips.

Turkey was the traditional Svenson Christmas Eve meal. Served in the early afternoon, the bird and trimmings would be slowly devoured over the course of the following days. Roast beef was reserved for Christmas Day. Normally leftovers would be served for the day after. But this year was not normal. It was the worst and the best of all possible scenarios.

It was the worst because Christmas fell on Thursday. With the day after being so close to the weekend, Gunar's family would be expected to stay the weekend. If it were Wednesday or earlier, Klaus could have bowed out. Friday or later and Klaus could have used Monday's workday as an excuse to escape the tension after only a couple of days.

The irony was that both families hated the Christmas Holiday. With the classic politics of familial relationships, they felt chained to the three-day tradition the Svensons had been maintaining since the turn of the century.

There was an added threat. Gunar knew they had to stay or they risked insulting Beorn. True, Beorn wanted them gone. But that would not stop him from carrying a grudge if anyone left early. And Beorn was as vengeful SOB as ever stalked the North Woods. The big bird reminded everyone they had five days of misery and turkey leftovers to look forward too.

This year was also the best of all possible scenarios. Last summer, Gunar had found a friend on the Internet. This friend had turned him on to the ultimate computer program, Master PC. The program allowed him to shape other people's bodies and minds. It had been an interesting fall quarter at his school. He had improved on himself. He was now bigger, stronger, faster, expert pianist and gifted with a dozen extraordinary abilities. Then he.....played with certain people, especially the girls, plumbing the depths of his desires. Now he knew what he wanted. It wasn't pretty or pleasant but Master PC had given him a taste for absolutely having his way and he liked it. The world was a much different place when one could afford to toss aside emotional dross, like compromise or compassion.

Aunt Josie had obviously touched herself up before her entrance but it did little good. Sweat still dripped from her brow and she was a mess. She had aged and not gracefully. Not long ago, her curly hair was deep red. It shimmered like a ruby that had been brushed with liquid ink. Now it was rusty orange red and trailed into frizzy gray. Her smooth fair skin had waned ashy pale and pruned into leathery wrinkles. She had gained weight too. Her figure was still there, but it had been pushed outwards. Her delicate pianist hands were now thick and cracked. Her forearms bore the scare of a dozen or so grease burns. The past five years of scratching by a living as a short order cook and the only caterer in a Wisconsin logging town had worn her town Still, she managed a show of pride. It was a fine, fine feast she had prepared.

The sideboard was stacked with steaming dishes of creamed shallots, sweet potato pie and many others, including Gunar's favorite, creamed string beans with plenty of those crunchy French onions on top. Beorn made a show of whetting his carving knife, like he had prepared the meal.

After his Aunt Josie placed the platter in front of her ex-husband, she moved to the foot of the table, stopped and sighed deeply. For a moment she seemed, to Gunar, to be lost in thought or maybe prayer. When she sat down, it was like she had snuffed out all the glitter from Kristin and BJ's evening.

Gunar leaned forward. "You should have charged him for this meal." He whispered to his Aunt. She smiled and then her shoulders slumped in exhaustion. This was the last of three holiday meals she prepared in the last twenty-four hours. The two others were for clients, Teva began conveying dishes from the sideboard to the table.

Only the sound of silver on porcelain broke the silence. That's the way the Svenson's were. When things were peaceful, it was a loud kind of peaceful, with lots of shouts and laughter. When things were quiet, it was a menacing quiet, like a bear trap is quiet.

As Beorn sliced, he put the choice cuts aside for himself. BJ got lots of crisp, golden skin and his beloved giblets, as usual. Kristin had her plastic diet wheel out and was visually measuring ounces of the turkey, clucking all the time. Jennifer flopped food on her plate without care.

Beorn deliberately placed the turkey throat and ragged wings on his brother's and wife's plate. Tore seemed content with just mashed potatoes, Aunt Josie's homemade cranberry sauce, rolls and Uncle Beorn's cut glass carafe of Kentucky bourbon. Gunar and Josie got the dark meat.

"Thanks Uncle. You remembered I like dark meat."

"You people make me sick. You and your fucking red meat."

"Vicky, please."

"Please yourself mother, your fucking drunk. Just so all you assholes know, I plan to make this whole farce a living hell. Maybe that will teach my fucking pussy of a father not to withhold my medication.

Do you know those turkeys are genetically engineered to have breasts so big that they can moved? And do you know how they are killed? Scalded, that's how."

Klaus hunkered down like he could hide from his daughter's noise. "If you don't want me to keep paying for your antibiotics, you can remove your tongue stud and few other things. Or you can get a job."

"Hahahahha!" Tore coughed as she cackled. "Look who grew balls all of a sudden. Screw you old man. Don't talk to me about health. You know what goes into making that fucking red meat of yours?" Tore then went on another one of her tirades about the industrial meat complex.

"Klaus. Make your daughter shut up." Beorn shook a carving knife in his niece's direction.

"You fucking make me you fucking corporate nazi!"

"Father, do Kristin and I have to be here for this?"

"Damn right you do."

"Why?"

"Let's just say, it isn't my Bayliner taking up all the room in the garage."

"Really?" Both brother and sister bounced on their seats. Gunar could not help but notice his waif cousin was wearing no bra. Her yellow hair billowed like a halo on the down thrust. She was as gorgeous a Nordic beauty as every sailed out of a fjord. Her bouncing reminded him of what he panned to do with her after BRAT3 was executed. His little head throbbed.

"Not you, you stupid cow, just BJ. Think I'd trust you behind the wheel after what happened last time?"

"Daddeeee! I need a new caaaaaar!" On the tantrum went.

"Now I know what happened to the piano." Gunar muttered. Josie, shot the lad a fearful glance. The beautiful old thing meant as much to her as it did to him. She had loved Grandma Dorcas as much as her own mother.

"No!" she moaned. "Beorn you didn't sell the piano!"

"Look! You can bitch all we want later! But I want to eat, hear me? Eat!" he bellowed like a bull elk, used to being obeyed. He called it his "mill voice." It was the voice that promised a beating to anyone who challenged him. Everyone at the table, even Tore had gotten served a taste of Uncle Beorn's knuckles at one time. The lumbering, jowled man didn't care about family, gender or age. He only cared about results, which is one of the reasons he was call the "Beorn Saddammson" down at the mill.

Again the table lapsed into tense silence. Gunar foresaw the pattern forming again. Beorn and his dad would talk about Green Bay's playoff chances, the only safe topic. His mother would get drunk. His sister would mumble and sulk. His cousins would brag about their greed until they got bored and left together. The new wife, Jessica, would blab at anything and anyone, or if Beorn wasn't looking, she'd cut out with Kristin. Then he and Aunt Josie would slip into the kitchen and reminisce with Teva about the good old days.

This year, Gunar broke the pattern.

He placed his laptop on the table and booted it up.

"What's that you got there, boy?"

"Just a laptop, old man."

"Who are you calling old, boy?"

"You, you old, fat, bald, impotent, corrupt, stupid, lazy pig fucker."

It was like everyone at the table suddenly fell into a glacial crevasse. Gunar could hear the turkey dripping.

WELCOME TO MASTER PC
PLEASE ENTER PASSWORD

Gunar entered his twenty-eight-keystroke password.

"What did you say, boy?"

"I guess I should add 'deaf' to the epithet then, pig fucker?"

Beorn tilted his head down and waved his carving knife. "Now you know, I don't like those words."

ENTER SUBJECT'S NAME
BEORN SEVENSON

"What? 'Pig Fucker?' You did that though, right? I mean you and your buddies got drunk one night and they dared your to..."

"All right.' He put the knife down and pushed his chair away. "That's enough."

"I will say when it's enough, pig fucker."

PROGRAM: PIGFUCKER1.EXE
SEND

The program set in motion a preset sequence of commands.

YOU WILL OBEY EVERYTHING NEPHEW GUNAR SAYS TO THE LETTER.
HE IS THE MASTER HERE.
YOU ENJOY BEING HIS LOYAL SERVANT.

"Gonna enjoy busting you up, boy." Beorn lumbered around his petrified new wife. During a short strike two years ago, she had been victim to one of these moods before and just hoped to escape notice.

SEND <Return>

"No. You won't. Sit down, pig fucker."

"Yes, sir."

"No. Wait. Continue carving the turkey. It carves better when hot."

"Yes, sir."

Josie grasped his left wrist. "Gunar, what have you done?"

He yanked it away. "You'll see."

SUBJECTS; DORCAS, BJ, ELIZABETH, KLAUS AND CAROL  SVENSON AND TEVA  REEDBASKET.
PROGRAM; DYSFUN1.EXE
SEND

Similar commands flew into the minds of the people situated around the table. "All you people sit still. Not you, pig fucker."

Except for Beorn, the family and their maid, dropped what they were doing and sat still, with blank looks on their faces.

"That's better. Everyone listen! I am sick and tired of all your petty bickering. This is going to be a holiday the way its SUPPOSSED to be, you got it? With a quiet meal and happiness and a loving, supportive family; the way it was back in grandpa's day. YOU HEAR ME?" They all jumped. "I guess you do. Now let's have a holiday the way it was meant to be. First of all there is an awful lot of tension in this room. I think a little venting the spleen is in order. But first, let's get a little of that white meat for once. Aunt Josie too. Serve her next."

After Beorn served Gunar and a stunned Aunt Josie the fowl with all the trimmings, the young man spoke up. "Excellent. Now for phase one. I command you to be painfully honest with each other. Be as loud as you want but no touching."

"Mother loved you best, eh Klaus? Well who had the mill now, asswipe?!" "Only because you took advantage of a dotty old woman. You cheated me out of my inheritance!" "Can I help it if you are too much of a pussy to fight for it?" Carol cheered, in her own way, her beloved husband on, spilling her eggnog. "Why couldn't you have been this much of man twenty years ago?" Klaus found a moment to curse his wife. "Butt out, you fucking drunk! I'm tired of you blaming me for your problems! If it weren't for you I'd be a senator by now. Why the fuck did I ever marry you?" "Because I was knocked up that's why! For the record, it's the only reason I'd marry you too." "Daddy! Mommy! Why don't you love me? I hate my fucking life! Hate it. Hate it! HATE IT!" Tore threw a tantrum, scuffing her boots on the hardwood floor, shaking her head wildly, and spittle flying.

Jennifer whined more than yelled. "I hate this fucking house, I hate this fucking woods. I should divorce you and head back to LA to hell with the pre-nupt!" Jessica kicked her fat husband's shin with her Milolo-Blanics. Then BJ produced a plastic packet of white powder from his jacket and held it aloft. "Guess what I got?" "Gimme it, BJ! I am so fucking dry!" Kristin pawed for it but BJ held it just out of reach. "Tough shit, bitch. You know the rules. You pay like everyone else!"

Josie was aghast "Gunar, what did you do?"

"Nothing. Just a sort of hypnosis. They'll wear themselves out in a few minutes." The he looked down, deeply into his Aunt's eyes. "We always talked about this, remember? How we wished the family would just everything out in the open for once? Well now, you got your wish. Enjoy! The string beans are excellent."

Timidly, Josie took a bite of the white turkey meat she had cooked, the first white meat she had tasted in three years. She patted herself on the back. It was moist and tender. "Maybe a little hypnosis is okay after all. Gunar, be a dear and pass me the cranberry relish." On and on it went the screaming, the accusations, even the maid, Teva, got into the act, railing against BJ, the boy who broke her heart. It only took eleven minutes of full bore screaming before the families' voices were hoarse and they showed signs of suffering the onset of hyperventilation.

"Enough." Like it was cut with a knife, the screaming ended. "There. Doesn't that feel better?" All their faces were red and they were panting. "Let's get down to brass tacks. I command everyone to tell the whole truth. Be brutally frank but talk in normal tones only. Sit down everyone. Why Aunt Josie, you've barely touched a thing. Relax. You're not like them. You are safe with me. Promise. Uncle, there's a rumor that you are selling the mill to the Japanese, is that true?"

He took a break from his water glass. "Sure is."

"What about the workers?"

"Oh, we'll promise them job security (cough) but I expect the zipper heads to shut the place down in a year or two, once they figure out how to transfer the business to their own mills."

"I want a written statement to that effect before I leave. Now, have you ever wondered where BJ gets all his money? Tell us, BJ."

"I am one of the biggest coke dealers in Madison, on campus anyway. Everyone knows that."

"Beorn knew the whole time? Okay, then what big secrets are you hiding from the family, BJ?" Gunar sipped on his beer.

"Kristin and I fuck, have been since I started dealing."

"Kristin!" Beorn's face began to swell anew.

"I can't help it daddy. I get soooo horny after a line or two. (giggle) And BJ is so sexy." She tickled his Versace' crotch."

"That's not all is it, BJ? What secret would really ruin your father's golden boy image of you?"

"Jessica and I fuck all the time too."

"Jessica?"

"Well, what am I suppose to do? Viagra ain't the answer to everything, limp dick. And it's long way to town."

"Is that true, cuz? Do you fuck my step-aunt all the time?"

"No."

"No?"

BJ leered in triumph. "No. Sometimes we do a threesome."

Beorn was flabbergasted. "What? When?

"If he's got the blow, I got the time." Kristin giggled. "Or when I'm bored." Jessica sipped her wine. "Which is all the frigging time, by they way." She smiled at her flash of wit.

"I'll kill you, you fucking ingrates. You can just say good bye to that Hummer in the garage."

"A Hummer, daddy, really?"

"Not for you, Kristin, you stupid bitch. Think I'd give you an SUV? Shit you bawl your eyes out when we go for a lousy ski around the lake. You hate these woods."

Kristin eyes lit up. In her conscious, she knew she had to tell the truth, but now the idea occurred to her that her father, finally, had to tell her the whole truth too. She tested the waters. "Then what did you give me?" Her eyes watched him, lit by the spark of paternally inherited greed.

Beorn sense what was coming. But he couldn't stop himself from blurting out, "A fur coat! Damn. Gunar what did you do to me?"

"A fur coat? Really? Tell me more."

Beorn gripped the table until his knuckle went white, then he spat. "100% Russian sable. A buddy in Alaska got it for me off the black market. Hmph. I may have to tell you about it, but I don't have to give it to you. You can just freeze your ass off now bitch. You too Jenny. Kiss that new fox coat good bye." Beorn seemed to have trouble getting his breath. "I feel like I've been poisoned."

BJ flicked a cig into his mouth and sparked it with a gold clad blue flame. He thought as he sucked in a long drag. "Screw the Hummer. They're sound systems suck. But I like the poisoning idea. Ladies?"

"We agreed to wait until he sold the factory." Jenny couldn't stop herself. She kept one fearful eye on Beorn. Her left hand reflexively rested on her cheek and she prayed that Gunar's "no touching" command was still in effect.

"I don't believe it!" Beorn was reeling.

Now it was Gunar's turn to lecture his pompous Uncle about the ways of the world. "Believe it, pig fucker. Where do you suppose these two go after each Holiday meal? I'll tell you where, the little hotel down the road."

"Well, now we use the Bayliner." Kristin corrected. "We can do it all the time there. It's lots closer and we just plug in the shop heater."

"Son of bitch! Is this the thanks I get? I gave you everything."

"Just what do you suppose they were supposed to feel after the way you raised them, Uncle? Gratitude? After what a fine example of gratitude you were. Ruthlessness, greed, lust...that's what you taught them. Now reap what you sowed. How were you three going to do it, kill Beorn?"

BJ smiled and answered and opened his palms. "A little scotch. A little Prozac and then a long walk off a short boat dock."

"Sounds like how grandpa died."

"Yeah. Except Grandpa 'forgot' his medication. Daddy will just take too many."

"That's right, Uncle Beorn. Why did Grandpa forget his medication that day?"

"He didn't forget. I goaded him into rowing. The old fool's digitalis couldn't help him that much. I knew he'd just be too stubborn to admit it he couldn't do it."

"And grandma? How did you get her to sign over custody?"

"It was easy enough. I brought up that I needed a house and caught her while she was having a grieving time. She was so tired after all the lawyers, she just wanted to hand over the burden. And there I was!"

"You cocksucker!" Klaus hissed.

"Bring it on, bro. I'll kicked your ass before and I'll kick it now."

"We'll do that later. Right now, everyone be quiet, eat and get your breath back. If you must talk it can only be compliments and niceties. Endeavor to be gracious and jolly. I command it."

"Yes, sir." They all incanted as one. They started with please and thank you's. Then the talk revolved around the new and town gossip.

Josie, afraid to talk until now, leaned to her nephew. "Gunar, this is amazing. How long will it last?"

"Having fun?"

"But what happens when they snap out of it?"

"Who says they'll snap out of it?" Gunar square jaw opened and he let out a good, throaty laugh.

"Gunar, this isn't funny."

"Sure it is."

Josie retreated into her chair. "You sound like your grandpa." A pause followed. "What's next for them?"

"That's a surprise. I love the Holidays, lots of surprises." Gunar took a gulp wine. "Ah, pinot noir. Couldn't drink my favorite wine with white meat." Josie noticed that it was true. Everyone else's wine was white, Gunar's was as dark as blood.