The Professor's Present

-by "Powerprof"

Professor Utonium always awoke at 4:30 on Christmas morning. Never an easy thing, it was even harder this year. The many nights spent over the last few months in the pursuit of knowledge had finally caught up with him. He had almost slipped back into sleep when he suddenly snapped himself out of bed and forced himself to take a long hot shower.

He shaved and put on the usual Christmas morning attire: Slippers, a T-shirt, boxers and his burgundy velvet smoking jacket. He checked to make sure his pipe, pens and note pad were in the breast pocket of the jacket. They were. He headed downstairs. The coffee maker so meticulously set up the night before had performed as expected and the Professor poured himself a steaming cup. The clock on it said 4:50 a.m.

'Hmm. Better hurry.'

He warmed up the oven, drew several things wrapped in foil from the refrigerator, and one by one opened them up. The Venetian butter cookie dough was already formed and ready to be placed on the baking pans. He quickly did that and then inspected the rest of the packages. The cashew honey torrone had hardened, and the miniature souffles and the apple tart tatins had set up perfectly. The almond lace cookies had been dipped in white, milk, and mint chocolate the night before. They looked so good he popped one into his mouth as he took a sip of his coffee.

'Hmmmm….'

For the more substantial element in this Christmas morning repast, the Professor had whipped up a light soup, and a simple platter with smoked meats and several cheeses, common and exotic. And there was cocoa, lightly minted, with optional whipped cream or marshmallows (or both) and warm apple cider for some "child friendly" aperitives. For himself, there would be a snifter of brandy.

People had often been amazed by the Professor's ability as skilled chef, plying him for recipes and tips on how to prepare them. He thought nothing of it since, as he'd often remarked, cooking is just carefully circumscribed, edible chemistry.

'Hopefully with out the explosions, heh, heh.'

He chuckled to himself as he took the butter cookies, nice and hot and perfect, out of the oven. Some of the other things would be better warmed-up, too. He put them on stoneware warming platters and set them on the stove. With the Christmas morning baking done, the Professor stepped back to admire his handiwork for a moment.

'Gosh, I think I've outdone myself this year.'

After downing the last of his cup of coffee, he headed out of the kitchen and back upstairs.

"Well, its time," he said aloud.

There was a pleasant, wistful smile on his face as he prepared to follow the ritual that he performed every Christmas morning since the girls came. He fished a bag out of his bedroom closet and set it in the satin lounge chair out in the hallway. Then, he carried the whole thing to the door of the girls' bedroom.

He quietly opened the bedroom door and peeked in. All three girls were fast asleep. With quiet, careful, deliberate movements, he took some things out of the bag and went into the bedroom. In one hand were three gilded candleholders and in the other, three candlesticks. Each candleholder had a crystal cup for the base and a clamp so he could mount them on the headboard of the girls' bed. The Professor positioned each holder, placed the candles in them and lit the candles. Each one had been specially treated to give off the girls' signature colors.

With his little angels surrounded by haloes of gentle light, the Professor brought in the chair, put it in a corner of the room, lit his pipe, and sat down.

As he gazed, one by one, upon their illuminated faces, his face grew reflective. His pipe glowed brightly and then softly in the shadows following the rhythm of each meditative puff. He rested his head on his hand and thought about all, good or bad, noble or petty, funny or sad, that had happened that year.

'Buttercup! You stink! Take a bath!'

'Bubbles, if you love them, you must set them free.'

'Just tell the truth, Blossom. Please.'

'Girls! Use the Dynamo …or you're all grounded!'

'And as long as we have each other, we're indestructible.'

'Better heroes, huh?'

'You have to turn this hair 'don't' …into a hair 'do.''

'We knew the whole time, girls!'

'Yes, I think this will just about cover your dental bills.'

'You have got to be kidding me! I don't have time for this!'

'Not so quickly, Mojo Jojo!'

'Girls, I thought I lost you.'

'This is the best gift ever …dad!'

'Yes,… it is.'

Bubbles face suddenly appeared before him and snapped him from his reverie.

"Merry Christmas, sweetie," he smiled.

"P'fesser," she said sleepily as she stood on his lap, "what're you doin' in here so early?"

"Oh honey… I'm…"

A soft-eyed expression of illimitable love and joy shone from his face.

"…I'm …just opening my Christmas present."

She looked puzzled for a minute and then smiled, understanding.

"I love you, P'fesser," she said, matching him expression for expression, love for love.

"I love you, too, sugar."

They hugged and sat there and dozed for a while. Finally, the Professor noticed it was getting light outside. With Bubbles cradled and yawning in one arm, he got up. Her sisters were stirring and it was time to share the moment. He walked over to them.

"Merry Christmas, girls!"

Blossom and Buttercup were instantly awake. They quickly floated up to the Professor and started hugging on him.

"Merry Christmas, Professor."

With kisses all around, he carried all three girls over to one of the bedroom windows.

"Watch this."

Christmas day was breaking over the mountains. It was that ever-so-brief time of the morning when the sun actually lit the sky from below. The light bouncing off the clouds was reflected again, upwards, off the snow that had fallen during the night in a game of catch-as-catch-can that filled the sky with feathered patterns of apocalyptic colors and left the ground hued with adumbrated pinks and oranges. Like royalty bestowing favors, shafts of light streaked across the corrugated landscape, here, striking and illuminating, there, leaving in shadow. Objects slowly resolving out of the cloak of night were temporarily discolored, and defined as much by what couldn't be seen, as what could.

The Professor watched his girls as they watched the sunrise in rapt silence, and realized his heart was almost breaking for the happiness he felt in this piercingly exquisite moment.

'How can this keep getting better each year?'

As the sun climbed higher, the subtle, varied hues of morning gave way to the more uniform brilliance of daylight. A blue-tinged sheen of white now reflected off the new-fallen snow and objects began to show their full shapes and their proper colors. The dark of some nearby evergreen trees stood in stark contrast to the snow, with their inverted shapes bounding off the glistening surface of a frozen pond. There were still some clouds from the previous night's snow trailing off to the east following their quicker brethren across the sky, and where the sun broke through that remaining cloud cover, its beams formed a conical tunnel of light that surely led into the Third Heaven.

Finally, the show was over. All three girls sighed in unison.

"That was sooo beautiful," said an awestruck Blossom.

"Yeah," said a wistful Buttercup, "maybe we should get up early more often."

"I'm gonna draw that with my new crayo….ooops!"

"What new crayons, Bubbles?" asked Blossom, slyly.

"Bubbles, have you been using your superpowers to see your presents before you're supposed to?" asked the Professor with that I-gotcha-young-lady tone in his voice.

"Just a few. Sorry, …papa?" she said apologetically, as she smiled her sweetest smile.

"Papa, huh? Well, …let's go see the rest of them, shall we?"

"YAY!" the three girls cheered, as the Professor carried them out of the bedroom.

"Oh, what smells so good?" asked Buttercup.

"You'll see."

And so, wrapped in a warm cocoon of family affection and holiday plentitude, they went down the stairs to revel in that very best day of that very best season that would see them off, happy and together, into a new year: a year that might perhaps see many sorrows, but hopefully, many joys as well.

The End ...for now.

(Authoer's Note: This was a just a little seasonal one-off, but it ended up starting something bigger, so I went ahead and posted it.)