A Christmas Story

‘Twas two nights before Christmas, and all through the house, several creatures were stirring, including two cats who probably wouldn’t know a mouse if they saw one, but one of those cats used to eat wasps on a regular basis so I guess we can split the difference.

No stockings were hung by the chimney with care, probably because this place is a shack that might not even have a chimney, so it certainly doesn’t have a mantelpiece from which to hang stockings. There is a Christmas tree (a purple one with a peacock topper, heee!), but it’s in storage and we forgot to take it out this year. I forgot to turn on the twinkle lights, too. I’m not great at Christmas.

With Mama in her kerchief and I in my cap, we settled our brains for a long winter’s nap…was anyone else ever disquieted by this line? I know it’s supposed to take place way back when so I understand the kerchief and cap references, but “settled our brains?” Who ever talked like that? Also, how long of a nap is this going to be? Are we talking about bears? Has anyone ever considered that “The Night Before Christmas” may have been written from the point of view of a family of anthropomorphic bears?

Aaaaaand this is why I don’t leave the house much. These kinds of thoughts are going through my head on a pretty regular basis, and it’s only rarely that I’m able to control them. For example, tonight I walked to Walgreen’s after work for some wrapping paper and one last stocking stuffer for Graham. As I placed it on the counter, I told the cashier “And this thing is the last of my Christmas shopping! Ha ha!”

“Congratulations!” he said.

“Yeah!” I replied, “Suck it, Christmas!”

Which is kind of remarkable, at least when you consider that what nearly came out of my mouth was “Eat a dick, Christmas!” But I guess this means that some part of my brain still works like it should, because I was still able to swallow those words before they left the tip of my tongue. I mean, “eat a dick, Christmas!” is pretty funny, but even I think it’s a bit inappropriate to say in line at the drugstore.

I followed “suck it, Christmas!” with a brandishment of my wrapping paper tube and the exclamation “And now I get to walk home with this like it’s my sword!”

I didn’t use it as a sword, by the way. Which is not to say that I didn’t twirl it like a baton and seriously consider gesturing with it to cars as I crossed the street, booming a Gandalfian “YOU SHALL NOT PASS.” I did twirl it like a baton. I did consider showing everyone that I am a wizard of Middle Earth. And again, this is why I don’t leave the house much, because for all of this time I spend being quiet by myself, there’s this idiotic current of loud asshattery inside of me that sometimes bursts out, and trust me, no one is made more uncomfortable about it than me.

About erineph

I'm Erin. I have tattoos and more than one cat. I am an office drone, a music writer, and an erstwhile bartender. I am a cook in the bedroom and a whore in the kitchen. Things I enjoy include but are not limited to zombies, burritos, Cthulhu, Kurt Vonnegut, Keith Richards, accordions, perfumery, and wearing fat pants in the privacy of my own home.
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