Alone in the crowd, robbed, humiliated, Bob wondered where it had all gone wrong and why, in particular, it had all gone so horribly wrong for him.

An episode of an ancestry show he'd never forgotten came to mind, one where a celebrity journalist had found a branch on his family tree belonging to a village sad sack. Where other guests ritually learned of relatives of the past accomplishing great things or displaying great courage or ingenuity, this poor relation was a doctor who had injured a patient through no real malice and then went on the lam, accidentally causing a fire in the barn he was hiding that destroyed half the village. He then tried to end his life by jumping off a bridge, but the water under it was too shallow and he went to jail for everything including the attempted suicide.

Bob knew his life wasn't as bad as being some unlucky sap stuck under a bridge yelling, "me leg's broke!", while angry villagers pulled him out, but it didn't feel too far off. He could probably adapt the story as a personal anecdote to tell Alvin Loy at Christmas dinner. Possibly when pulling apart the wishbone, if he could time it right. Creativity was as good a coping mechanism as any.

Natasha and DeeDee suddenly cut through the room, smiling at him excitedly as they headed to the front door. At least they were having fun, he thought. The guests filling in for Peps Freburg had arrived, he figured. He then thought about how Peps wasn't having such a great night either and felt slightly less sorry for himself. Slightly.

The ladies soon returned, followed by a good looking couple in heavy winter coats. The man, tall with a sort of old fashioned pencil moustache, and the woman, a beautiful blonde who looked something between an angel on a valentine and a pin-up on a vintage calendar, seemed familiar to him. Maybe he had seen them perform somewhere before. He took a picture of them as they were hurried in their large to the den, where he assumed they'd change for their act.

He moved closer now towards the slightly smaller sitting room where the jazz band played. He watched as DeeDee signaled to the pianist that the next act was in and handed her some sheet music. The pianist cued the band to wind down, and as Natasha returned, she and DeeDee seemed to urge one another to get on stage for the announcement. Natasha finally grabbed the microphone but she pulled her sister on stage with her anyway.

"Hi everyone! Merry Chirstmas!" The room cheered back then settled to let her go on. "Isn't DeLaine's band wonderful?" The pianist and musicians gave a grateful bow to the crowd packing in more closely. "My sister DeeDee and I had planned for some extra entertainment tonight. The plan changed and changed again, but we think we're all in for a nice surprise. We love you all dearly, and thank you all for coming, and now let's hear a warm,  welcoming round of applause for our special guests, The Astonishing Jones and Carol, Quick Change Artists Extraordinaire!"

The man called Jones, in a classic tuxedo with tails, skipped merrily to take his place in front of the band and held out his arm to beckon his lovely co-star to his side. She was dressed in layered gown of the palest periwinkle, her blonde hair in the sort of retro waves which made her look as though Jean Harlow was playing Pinocchio's Blue Fairy. As Bob wondered where she could be hiding her other outfits, he was unable to shake the strong sense that he should know; that somewhere in his uncooperative mind he knew more about this duo than their names. Even before Jones addressed the crowd, he knew that his voice would be deep and wry and sophisticated, just as he knew Carol's would alternate between silky and squeaky. It was possibly a good guess based on stage character tropes, but it no less bewildered him to be proven so right.

"A great good evening to you ladies, gentlemen, and guests of our hosts. As we were introduced, I am Jones, and this is Carol, and we are what is known as quick change artists. Quick, does anybody have any change? I forgot to tip cab the driver."

The crowd laughed politely, Carol's cue to say, "'Forgot', he says. Isn't he funny?"

"The important thing is we made it here in one, well, two pieces."

"Two pieces? Do you know how many outfits I had to pack?"

"Just be thankful it's not a birthday party. She's got a dress that's made entirely of balloons."

"Yeah, and then he asks for a volunteer with a pin."

"You're getting much less jumpy."

"Why, thanks."

"But this isn't a birthday party, is it? It's a Christmas party. And we're lucky enough to be standing here with DeLaine's Fantastic Five, so let's not waste them or any more time getting Carol into something more appropriate for the occasion."

"What's wrong with what I'm wearing?"

"Shhh, the show's about to start," Jones said and signaled the band.

As soon as Bob heard the opening notes on the piano and Jones' following first line, he recognized the intro to Cole Porter's 'Now You Has Jazz' performed in the film High Society by Bing Crosby and Louis Armstrong. DeLaine's Fantastic Five was missing a trombonist, but the number was still played brilliantly. Not only was the lyrical banter between Jones and Carol a charming substitute for those first famed artists, but the original number didn't have ol' Sacthmo's outfit changing colours several times as if by magic.

The powder blue dress went from purple to red and finally by the end of the song, to the perfect green of a winter pine so that Carol looked made up as a Christmas tree. Bob had expected a changing sheet or hoop with curtains to disguise the trick involved, however all it seemed Jones had to do was spin Carol around and like an LED bulb her dress bloomed in a different colour.

Bob clapped as loud as he could. Jones and Carol bowed and, as if out of nowhere, Jones produced a tiara with a star on it and placed it on Carol's head so that she looked like an angel on top of a tree.

"Aren't you forgetting something?" Carol asked.

"Oh, you're right," Jones said. He snapped his fingers, and when Carol turned around, she wore a pair of small angel wings on her back.

How did they do it? Bob had to move closer to see. Luckily, he had no problem cutting through a crowd eager not to stand too close to him. He squeezed right up front and just off to the side of what might be considered the stage.

"And now," Jones continued, "we'd like to do an old vaudeville number. A novelty tune from years ago that was a great big hit. A runaway favourite. The most requested tune on the radio during Christmas of '28 ."

"In Buffalo," Carol said with a wink to the audience. "We think."

Jones began to sing along with a soft piano opening:

"Patience is a virtue, so my parents said
So I heeded my curfew and scurried up to bed."

Bob knew this too! Somewhere deep, but more available in his memory, he knew the next lines.

"To dream of Christmas morning, and all that there would be
Joy to the world! And lots of good presents for you and me."

Yes, he did! He knew that the song would pick up as the band jumped in next. This was a song his grandfather used to sing, a favourite of a great-grandfather he'd never met. If anyone had asked Bob what it was, he might have only been able to recall the next line, "Look! What's that under the Christmas Tree?" but as the words poured out of Jones, so did they appear on the tip of Bob's tongue like they'd been there all along.

"It's that train that I always wanted
When you got it you should flaunt it."

He was as mesmerized as everyone else at Carol's quick change into a dress with a large train on the back as she wiggled her derriere playfully. Mesmerized for many reasons, but mostly because it had just happened so fast. She'd barely stepped behind the sheet held up by Jones before she was out again.

"Look! What's that under the Christmas tree?"

The dress became a mass of pink frills!

"It's a dolly for Sue and a record for Joe
And for Katy a kitty-cat tied with a bow."

And now a leopard print dress.

Bob hadn't realized he'd been singing along, not loudly but so that he'd been spotted by Jones who halted singing while the band improvised in order to call him out.

"I don't believe it," Jones said, all happy astonishment. "Folks, we've got a fellow here who knows the words to this thing. What's your name, kid?"

Bob hesitated. Carol, bobbing with a dipping hip to the tune, gave him a generous smile and encouraging nod.

"It's, uh, Bob."

"Bob, what do you do for a living?"

The party guests mumbled uncomfortably. He looked around for Natasha's angry eyeballs but couldn't immediately see her.

"Oh I'm a...doctor."

"How do you know this song?"

"My grandfather had this record. I haven't heard it in years."

"Well, you better get on up here and sing it with me, prove to all these people how popular this song was."

Jones took the lead,

"Give mom a set of..."

then handed it to Bob.

"Monogramed hankies."

"That's right! Give Dad a new glove..."

"Signed by the Yankees."

"Santa's been watching..."

"If you've been good he's – "

"Gonna fill your stockings."

"Yes, he's gonna fill your stocking with all kinds of goodies!"

By this time, Carol had changed twice and now wore a set of red bloomers with candy cane striped stockings. She maneuvered her way in between Bob and Jones and, with a heartening look, gave Bob permission to take over the song, which he instinctively did.

"A pair of new figure skates tied with a ribbon
Just look at the figure he delivered with 'em
A new pair of skis and a shiny new sled
Watch where you're going. Remember kids, there're curves ahead -
Look out!"

Bob's feet spanked the floor and took over, tapping out a happy beat. If he had seen Alexis' mouth hanging open! If he had seen Alvin's confused squint drag his upper lip to his nose, or Natasha's clenched jaw, or especially DeeDee's ecstatic smile, perhaps he would've remembered who he was supposed to be, but joy in rhythm was his natural state and his body and soul could not be stopped for the consequences.

"Look! What's that under the Christmas tree?
In case there's anything that I missed
A gift that's missing from Santa's list
A mistletoe kiss if you insist is fine
Cuz anything goes underneath the tree
at Christmastiiiiime!"

As the three performers linked arms to somehow perfectly synchronize their last steps, the number finished with both Bob and Jones giving Carol a sweet kiss on her cheeks. Bob couldn't tell if he had been leading or following their footwork, but it got a very loud, gobsmacked applause from the Loy party guests, if not from half the Loys, namely Natasha and her father.

Realizing suddenly the jeopardy he put his deal with Natasha in, Bob improvised by hogging the stage with his bows, effectively blocking Jones and Carol as they took their own. He grabbed the mic stand and drunkenly yelled, "Up yours, Ivan!" The crowd collectively winced in second-hand embarrassment.

Natasha rushed the stage, yanking Bob off like a naughty cub and dragged him into the den.

Behind closed doors, she glowered at him.

"Not cool, Bob," she said in a tone which made him think neglectful salesperson, G, had gotten off easy.

He begged for mercy. "I'm sorry. I don't know what came over me. It's just I haven't heard that song since I was a kid at my grandfather's house."

"And I suppose that fancy footwork wasn't an audition for Steve."

"They pulled me on stage. I've been dancing since I could walk. Believe me, I couldn't help myself."

"Well, you better, or else this whole deal is off. I'm not out to ruin your career, but if you ruin this for me, you'll wish you had caught that train to Killarney."

"I fixed it. They think I'm sloshed. Want to go out there and have a fight? I bet your Dad will toss me out on my can in less than two minutes."

"It's too early."

"How about I walk in on someone else in the bathroom? They'll think it's a kink!"

"They're not going to believe I'm in love with a perv! I need them to think I'm serious about you. I need them to tear you away from me so I can cry about it until they give me Rodney as a consolation prize."

"Just what is your exit plan anyway? How do you expect me to get your father to put his foot down just with my telling dumb stories about orthotics and ant farms and goats with the runs?"

"Goats with the runs?"

"Oh, it was brilliant. I had to try so hard not to laugh."

"My parents will do what they always do, which is try to convince me you're not for me and then threaten to die of broken hearts if I don't comply."

"Not disown you?"

"It's implied that I'll only find out after I kill them."

"What do you want me to do?"

"You've got two choices. You can be too drunk to go back to the party and go to bed or you can get back out there and keep your mouth shut and just be as obnoxious as I asked."

"How can I keep my mouth shut and be obnoxious?"

"Double dip in the caviar. I don't know."

"Can I at least have a quick word with the quick-changers? I mean, they were amazing!"

"So you can go viral? God, no!"

"Fine."

"Fine. Now take my hand and be sure to smooch me when we get out there."

"Tight and unappealing?"

"The tighter the better."

Back out in the party room, Bob did as he was told by planting a dry, sorry excuse for a kiss on her cheek. She leaned into it, patting his head, mouthing assurances to disappointed guests that Bob was okay. She sent him off to a corner far away from Jones and Carol's last number. He groaned steam into another champagne glass as he watched them bid the room goodnight and leave the stage to change into their coats. Only when patting down his pockets in search for his phone, hoping to take another picture of the duo on their way out, did he remember the stick-up. How could he have forgotten? It was like a spell had broken.

He thought better of calling the police right away not wanting to make a scene until it occurred to him a scene might be something Natasha would like. He scanned the room for her to ask permission and his dumbstruck eyes landed on the very server who'd mugged him still serving the guests.

"The hell?!"

Bob excused himself through several partygoers until only a serving tray separated him from the thief.

"Drink sir?"

"Are you kidding me?"

"Nope. They're free."

"Ok give me my wallet back or I'm calling the cops."

"Did you forget the gun?" he whispered with a hand aside his mouth for discretion.

"No, I didn't, but you were supposed to leave quietly."

A faucet drip of pitying laugher spilled forth. "Oh! Ah – oh, you thought I was serious? You poor schmo! Oh my God, no, it was a joke. I thought you were in on it. A party trick, you know? You're the new guy to this crowd, right?"

"Yes."

"Yeah, well, they have me do this every year. I'm so sorry, I thought you knew!" He seemed to try to fight it, but the server couldn't stop himself from laughing again.

"For real?" Bob said.

"Your wallet, sir," he said, handing it back to Bob, now winding down the laughter with a controlled baying breath for relief from what was clearly the funniest thing he'd ever been part of.

Bob couldn't help but laugh a little himself, not that he found it that funny, but out of relief for his life not being totally in the toilet. "Can you imagine what I thought? I thought, this guy robs me and now he's back like it never happened?"

The grey eyes scrunched as he nodded silently, holding his ribs and trying to breathe a side-splitting spasm away.

Another server passed them and called sharply, "Yo, Pierpont! Hey man, the buffet's got a ton of garbage on it."

"I'll get to it," he said in a dismissive tone.

"Pierpont?" Bob asked. The server smiled serenely.

"Call me Pearce. Nobody else does anymore."

"Okay, Pearce. Does everyone fall for it, or just me?"

"The truth?"

"Why not?" Bob said, opening an empty wallet.

"The truth is I'm rusty at this and I forgot to get your pin number so I came back for it."

Suddenly, the gun was in Bob's side again. He jumped up, but Pearce warned him, "Uh-uh. Remember I'll aim for the ceiling but my arms are might-y tired."

Fearing for everyone's safety, Bob implored the bandit calmly. "It's Christmas, man. I'll give you my pin, but don't fire that thing."

"Deal," Pearce said sympathetically. "You know, I knew we made a connection when you didn't call the police right away."

"It's 2475," Bob said, ignoring him angrily. "Please at least tell me you're hard up or something."

"Oh, I am. I've got a lot of people depending on me, and I want to skip town before they realize I'm not coming back. Is it okay with you if I finish my shift? We only get paid at the end of the night."

Bob grabbed the barrel of the server's gun and held it firmly in place against his own stomach. "You listen to me. The only person who's going to get hurt tonight is me."

"Aw, not you. You're the only one I like," Pearce complained with a tsk as though he'd have nothing to do with it.

"If you leave now, I swear I won't call the cops until the party's over. It's either that or we stand like this all night until someone else does, or you put a bullet through me, got it?"

"Well, now you're just making me feel bad. Okay, I'll go. No hard feelings, I hope."

"No hard feelings," Bob agreed as the server slowly backed away.

"Don't you just love Christmas? Milk of human kindness and all that? Dah-ho-doraze."

"Are you an alien learning about it from tv?"

"God bless us, every – "

Pearce stumbled on something underfoot. An ice cube, a melon ball, it wasn't clear. But he skidded and somehow in trying to regain his balance, the gun went off. A puff of smoke and the smell of sulphur told Bob right away it was a cap gun. The server screamed in surprise and threw the gun at him, spinning around to make his swift getaway on rubber-band legs.

The crowd had either fled or cowered. No one was hurt in the panic that Bob could tell, but perhaps they just weren't willing to volunteer that information to the man left holding the gun. Alvin Loy stepped out from behind the Christmas tree where he'd hidden his family and looked like he wanted to shoot his future son-in-law with it. Natasha poked her head out the other side and gave Bob a thumbs up.