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Touching Christmas StoriesAnd on the Lighter Side ...
'Twas the Night Before Christmas Revisited 'Twas the Month After Christmas
Dysfunctional Christmas Carols
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Ever since his father had passed away three years ago, the family of five had struggled. It wasn't because his mother didn't care, or try, there just never seemed to be enough. She worked nights at the hospital, but the small wage that she was earning could only be stretched so far. What the family lacked in money and material things, they more than made up for in love and family unity.
Bobby had two older and one younger sister, who ran the household in their mother's absence. All three of his sisters had already made beautiful gifts for their mother. Somehow it just wasn't fair. Here it was Christmas Eve already, and he had nothing. Wiping a tear from his eye, Bobby kicked the snow and started to walk down to the street where the shops and stores were. It wasn't easy being six without a father, especially when he needed a man to talk to.
Bobby walked from shop to shop, looking into each decorated window. Everything seemed so beautiful and so out of reach. It was starting to get dark and Bobby reluctantly turned to walk home when suddenly his eyes caught the glimmer of the setting sun's rays reflecting off of something along the curb. He reached down and discovered a shiny dime. Never before has anyone felt so wealthy as Bobby felt at that moment. As he held his new found treasure, a warmth spread throughout his entire body and he walked into the first store he saw.
His excitement quickly turned cold when salesperson after salesperson told him that he could not buy anything with only a dime. He saw a flower shop and went inside to wait in line. When the shop owner asked if he could help him, Bobby presented the dime and asked if he could buy one flower for his mother's Christmas gift. The shop owner looked at Bobby and his ten cent offering. Then he put his hand on Bobby's shoulder and said to him, "You just wait here and I'll see what I can do for you."
Bobby waited, he looked at the beautiful flowers and even though he was a boy, he could see why mothers and girls liked flowers. The sound of the door closing as the last customer left, jolted Bobby back to reality. All alone in the shop, Bobby began to feel alone and afraid. Suddenly the shop owner appeared and came to the counter. There, before Bobby's eyes, lay twelve long stem, red roses, with leaves of green and tiny white flowers all tied together with a big silver bow. Bobby's heart sank as the owner picked them up and placed them gently into a long white box. "That will be ten cents young man," the shop owner said reaching out his hand for the dime.
Slowly, Bobby moved his hand to give the man his dime. Could this be true? No one else would give him a thing for his dime! Sensing the boy's reluctance, the shop owner added, "I just happened to have some roses on sale for ten cents a dozen. Would you like them?"
This time Bobby did not hesitate, and when the man placed the long box into his hands, he knew it was true. Walking out the door that the owner was holding for Bobby, he heard the shop keeper say, "Merry Christmas, son."
As he returned inside, the shop keepers wife walked out. "Who were you talking to back there and where are the roses you were fixing?" Staring out the window, and blinking the tears from his own eyes, he replied, "A strange thing happened to me this morning. While I was setting up things to open the shop, I thought I heard a voice telling me to set aside a dozen of my best roses for a special gift. I wasn't sure at the time whether I had lost my mind or what, but I set them aside anyway. Then just a few minutes ago a little boy came into the shop and wanted to buy a flower for his mother with one small dime. When I looked at him, I saw myself, many years ago. I too was a poor boy with nothing to buy my mother a Christmas gift. A bearded man, whom I never knew, stopped me on the street and told me that he wanted to give me ten dollars. When I saw that little boy tonight, I knew who that voice was, and I put together a dozen of my very best roses."
The shop owner and his wife hugged each other tightly, and as they stepped out into the bitter cold air, they somehow didn't feel cold at all.
Knowing he felt this way, I decided one year to bypass the usual shirts, sweaters, ties and so forth. I reached for something special just for Mike. The inspiration came in an unusual way. Our son Kevin, who was 12 that year, was wrestling at the junior level at the school he attended; and shortly before Christmas, there was a non-league match against a team sponsored by an inner-city church, mostly black. These youngsters, dressed in sneakers so ragged that shoestrings seemed to be the only thing holding them together, presented a sharp contrast to our boys in their spiffy blue and gold uniforms and sparkling new wrestling shoes. As the match began, I was alarmed to see that the other team was wrestling without headgear, a kind of light helmet designed to protect a wrestler's ears. It was a luxury the ragtag team obviously could not afford. Well, we ended up walloping them. We took every weight class. And as each of their boys got up from the mat, he swaggered around in his tatters with false bravado, a kind of street pride that couldn't acknowledge defeat. Mike, seated beside me, shook his head sadly, "I wish just one of them could have won," he said. "They have a lot of potential, but losing like this could take the heart right out of them." Mike loved kids -- all kids -- and he knew them, having coached little league football, baseball and lacrosse.
That's when the idea for his present came. That afternoon, I went to a local sporting goods store and bought an assortment of wrestling headgear and shoes and sent them anonymously to the inner-city church. On Christmas Eve, I placed the envelope on the tree, the note inside telling Mike what I had done and that this was his gift from me. His smile was the brightest thing about Christmas that year and in succeeding years. For each Christmas, I followed the tradition. One year I sent a group of mentally handicapped youngsters to a hockey game, another year a check to a pair of elderly brothers whose home had burned to the ground the week before Christmas.
The envelope became the highlight of our Christmas. It was always the last thing opened on Christmas morning and our children, ignoring their new toys, would stand with wide-eyed anticipation as their dad lifted the envelope from the tree to reveal its contents. As the children grew, the toys gave way to more practical presents, but the envelope never lost its allure. The story doesn't end there. You see, we lost Mike last year to cancer. When Christmas rolled around, I was still so wrapped in grief that I barely got the tree up. But Christmas Eve found me placing an envelope on the tree, and in the morning, it was joined by three more. Each of our children, unbeknownst to the others, had placed an envelope on the tree for their dad. The tradition has grown and someday will expand even further with our grandchildren standing around the tree with wide-eyed anticipation watching as their fathers take down the envelope ... Mike's spirit, like the Christmas spirit, will always be with us. May we all remember the Christmas spirit this year and always.
R.S.V.P. Very Important! He must know ahead so He can reserve a spot for you at the table. Also, He's keeping a list of His friends for future reference. He calls it the "Lamb's Book of Life."
Party given by: His Kids (that's us!!)!
Hope to see you there! For those of you whom I will see at the party, share this with someone today!
SANTA'S REINDEER
According to the Alaska Department of Fish and Game, while both male and female
reindeer grow antlers in the summer each year, male reindeer drop their antlers
at the beginning of winter, usually late November to mid-December. Female
reindeer retain their antlers till after they give birth in the spring.
Therefore, according to EVERY historical rendition depicting Santa's reindeer,
EVERY single one of them, from Rudolph to Blitzen, had to be a girl.
We should've known. ONLY women would be able to drag a fat-ass man in a red velvet suit around the world in one night and not get lost!!!
When prompted, click "Open" ... it is virus free! It gets funnier with each frame!
When prompted, click "Open" ... it is virus free!
Listen you fat troll, I've been saving your ass every year, being the perfect Christmas Present, wearing skimpy bathing suits in December and dressing in fake Chanel at sappy tea parties. I hate to break it to ya', Santa, but it's payback time. There had better be some changes around here, or I'm gonna call for a nationwide meltdown, and trust me, you don't wanna be around to smell it. These are my demands for Christmas 1999:
Considering my valuable contribution to society and Mattel, I think these demands are reasonable. If you don't like it, you can find yourself a new bitch for next Christmas. It's that simple.As ever,Barbie
It has come to my attention that one of my colleagues has petitioned you for changes in her contract, specifically asking for anatomical and career changes. In addition, it is my understanding that disparaging remarks were made about me, my sexuality, and some of my fashion choices. I would like to take this opportunity to inform you of issues concerning Ms. Barbie, as well as some of my own needs and desires.
First, I, along with several of my colleagues, feel Ms. Barbie DOES NOT deserve the preferential treatment she has received over the years. That bitch has everything. Neither I, nor Joe, Jem, nor The Raggedys (Ann and Andy) have dreamhouses, Corvettes, dune buggies, evening gowns, and some of us do not even have the ability to change our hairstyle. I have had a limited wardrobe, obviously designed to complement but never upstage Ms. Barbie. My decision to accessorize with an earring was immediately quashed, which I protest, for it was my decision and reflects my lifestyle choice.
I would like a change in my career to further explore my creative nature. Some options which could be considered are "Decorator Ken," "Beauty Salon Ken," or "Broadway Ken." Other avenues which could be considered are: "Go-Go Ken," "Impersonator Ken" (with wigs and gowns), or "West Hollywood Ken." These would more accurately reflect my interests and, I believe, open up markets that have been underserved.
As for Ms. Barbie needing bendable arms so she can "push me away," I need bendable knees so I can kick the bitch to the curb. Bendable knees would also be helpful in other situations of which, I'm sure, you are aware.
In closing, further concessions to the Blonde Bimbo from Hell, while the needs of others within my coalition are ignored, will result in legal action to be taken by myself and others. And kindly tell Ms. Barbie that she can forget about G.I. Joe... he's mine, at least that's what he said last night.Sincerely,Ken
The little girl replies, "I want a Barbie and G.I. Joe."
Santa looks at the little girl for a moment and says, "I thought Barbie comes with Ken."
"No," said the little girl, "she comes with GI Joe. She fakes it with Ken."
I've busted my ass for damn near a year
Instead of "Thanks Santa" - what do I hear
The old lady bitches cause I work late at night
The elves want more money - The reindeer all fight
Rudolph got drunk and goosed all the maids
Donner is pregnant and Vixen has AIDS
And just when I thought that things would get better
Those assholes from IRS sent me a letter
They say I owe taxes - if that ain't damn funny
Who the hell ever sent Santa Clause any money
And the kids these days - they all are the pits
They want the impossible ...Those mean little shits
I spent a whole year making wagons and sleds
Assembling dolls...Their arms, legs and heads
I made a ton of yo yo's - No request for them
They want computers and robots...they think I'm IBM!
If you think that's bad...just picture this
Try holding those brats...with their pants full of piss
They pull on my nose - they grab at my beard
And if I don't smile..the parents think I'm weird
Flying through the air...dodging the trees
Falling down chimneys and skinning my knees
I'm quitting this job...there's just no enjoyment
II'll sit on my fat ass and draw unemployment
There's no Christmas this year...now you know the reason
I found me a blonde.. I'm going SOUTH for the season!!
And then, when he began to load the sleigh one of the boards on the sleigh cracked and the toy bag fell to the ground and scattered all the toys... so, frustrated Santa went into the house for a cup of coffee and a shot of whiskey...but he found that the elves had hit the liquor cupboard and there was nothing there to drink...and in his frustration he dropped the coffee pot and it broke into hundreds of little pieces all over the kitchen floor... He went to get the broom and found that mice had eaten the straw it was made from.
Just then....the doorbell rang and Santa cussed on his way to the door. He opened the door and there was a little angel with a great big Christmas tree. And the angel said: Santa, where would you like me to put this Christmas tree? And that, my friend, is how the little angel came to be on top of the Christmas tree.
Four reindeer had vanished, without much propriety,
Released to the wilds by the Humane Society.
And equal employment had made it quite clear
That Santa had better not use just reindeer.
So Dancer and Donner and Comet and Cupid,
Were replaced with 4 pigs, and you know that looked stupid!
The runners had been removed from his sleigh;
The ruts were termed dangerous by the E.P.A.
And people had started to call for the cops
When they heard sled noises on their rooftops.
Secondhand smoke from his pipe had his workers quite frightened.
His fur trimmed red suit was called 'Unenlightened.'
And to show you the strangeness of life's ebbs and flows,
Rudolf was suing over unauthorized use of his nose
And had gone on Geraldo, in front of the nation,
Demanding millions in overdue compensation.
So, half of the reindeer were gone; and his wife,
Who suddenly said she'd had enough of this life,
Joined a self-help group, packed, and left in a whiz,
Demanding from now on her title was Ms.
And as for the gifts, why, he'd ne'er had a notion
That making a choice could cause so much commotion.
Nothing of leather, nothing of fur,
Which meant nothing for him. And nothing for her.
Nothing that might be construed to pollute.
Nothing to aim. Nothing to shoot.
Nothing that clamored or made lots of noise.
Nothing for just girls. Or just for the boys.
Nothing that claimed to be gender specific.
Nothing that's warlike or non-pacific.
No candy or sweets...they were bad for the tooth.
Nothing that seemed to embellish a truth.
And fairy tales, while not yet forbidden,
Were like Ken and Barbie, better off hidden.
For they raised the hackles of those psychological
Who claimed the only good gift was one ecological.
No baseball, no football...someone could get hurt;
Besides, playing sports exposed kids to dirt.
Dolls were said to be sexist, and should be passe;
And Nintendo would rot your entire brain away.
So Santa just stood there, disheveled, perplexed;
He just could not figure out what to do next.
He tried to be merry, tried to be gay,
But you've got to be careful with that word today.
His sack was quite empty, limp to the ground;
Nothing fully acceptable was to be found.
Something special was needed, a gift that he might
Give to all without angering the left or the right.
A gift that would satisfy, with no indecision,
Each group of people, every religion;
Every ethnicity, every hue,
Everyone, everywhere...even you.
So here is that gift, it's price beyond worth...
'May you and your loved ones enjoy peace on earth.'
‘TWAS THE MONTH AFTER CHRISTMAS
'Twas the month after Christmas, and all through the house
Nothing would fit me, not even a blouse.
The cookies I'd nibbled, the eggnog I'd taste
At the holiday parties had gone to my waist.
When I got on the scales there arose such a number!
When I walked to the store (less a walk than a lumber).
I'd remember the marvelous meals I'd prepared;
The gravies and sauces and beef nicely rared,
The wine and the rum balls, the bread and the cheese
And the way I'd never said, "No thank you, please."
As I dressed myself in my biggest old shirt
And prepared once again to do battle with dirt---
I said to myself, as I only can
"You can't spend a winter disguised as a man!"
So--away with the last of the sour cream dip,
Get rid of the fruit cake, every cracker and chip
Every last bit of food that I like must be banished
Till all the additional ounces have vanished.
I won't have a cookie--not even a lick.
I'll only to chew on a long celery stick.
I won't have hot biscuits, or corn bread, or pie,
I'll munch on a carrot and quietly cry.
I'm hungry, I'm sad, and life is a bore---
But isn't that what January's for?
Unable to giggle, no longer a riot.
Happy New Year to all and to all a good diet!
DISGRUNTLED JOHNNY
Dear Santa,
You must be surprised that I'm writing to you today, the 26th of December. Well, I would very much like to clear up certain things that have occurred since the beginning of the month, when, filled with illusion, I wrote you my letter. I asked for a bicycle, an electric train set, a pair of roller blades and a football uniform.
I destroyed my brain studying the whole year. Not only was I the first in my class, but I had the best grades in the whole school.
I'm not going to lie to you, there was no one in my entire neighborhood that behaved better than me, with my parents, my brothers, my friends and with my neighbors. I would go on errands and even help the elderly cross the street. There was virtually nothing within reach that I would not do for humanity.
What balls do you have leaving me a fucking yo-yo, a stupid whistle and a pair of socks. What the fuck were you thinking, you fat son of a bitch, that you've taken me for a sucker the whole fucking year to come out with some shit like this under the tree. As if you hadn't fucked me enough, you gave that little faggot across the street so many toys that he can't even walk into his house.
Please don't let me see you trying to fit your big fat ass down my chimney next year. I'll fuck you up. I'll throw rocks at those stupid reindeer and scare them away so you'll have to walk back to the fucking North Pole, just like what I have to do now since you didn't get me that fucking bike. FUCK YOU SANTA. Next year you'll find out how bad I can be, you FAT-SON-OF-A-BITCH.
Sincerely,
Little Johnny
MULTIPLE PERSONALITY DISORDER:
We Three Queens Disoriented Are
DEMENTIA:
I Think I'll Be Home for Christmas
NARCISSISTIC:
Hark the Herald Angels Sing About Me
MANIC:
Deck the Halls and Walls and House and Lawn and Streets and Stores and Office and Town and Cars and Buses and Trucks and Trees and Fire Hydrants and ...
PARANOID:
Santa Claus is Coming to Get Me
PERSONALITY DISORDER:
You Better Watch Out, I'm Gonna Cry, I'm Gonna Pout, Maybe I'll tell you Why
DEPRESSION:
Silent Anhedonia, Holy Anhedonia, All is Flat, All is Lonely.
OBSESSIVE-COMPULSIVE DISORDER:
Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock,
Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock,
Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock,
Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock,
Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock,
Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock,
Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock,
Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock,
Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock,
Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock,
Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock,
Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock,
Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock,
Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock,
Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock,
Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock,
Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock,
Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock,
Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock,
Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock,
Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock,
Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell, Jingle Bell Rock ........
....(better start again)
PASSIVE-AGGRESSIVE PERSONALITY:
On the First Day of Christmas My True Love Gave to Me (and then took it all away)
BORDERLINE PERSONALITY DISORDER:
Thoughts of Roasting on an Open Fire
December 2
Have Mormon Tabernacle Choir record outgoing Christmas message for answering machine.
December 3
Using candlewick and hand-gilded miniature pinecones, fashion a cat-o-nine-tails. Flog gardener.
December 4
Repaint Sistine Chapel ceiling in ecru, with mocha trim.
December 5
Make Christmas candles using wax personally collected from beehives and colored with cranberry juice (hand-squeezed from berries from own garden)
December 6
Fax family Christmas newsletter to Pulitzer committee for consideration.
December 7
Debug Windows '98
December 11
Lay Faberge egg.
December 12
Take dog apart. Disinfect. Reassemble.
December 13
Collect dentures. (They make excellent pastry cutters, particularly for decorative pie crusts.)
December 14
Install plumbing in gingerbread house.
December 15
Replace air in mini-van tires with Glade "Holiday Scents" in case tires are shot out at mall.
December 17
Child-proof the Christmas tree with garland of razor wire.
December 19
Adjust legs of chairs so each Christmas dinner guest will be the same height when sitting at his or her assigned seat.
December 20
Dip sheep and cows in egg whites and roll in confectioner's sugar to add a festive sparkle to the pasture.
December 21
Drain city reservoir; refill with mulled cider, orange slices and cinnamon sticks.
December 22
Float votive candles in toilet tank.
December 23
Seed clouds for white Christmas.
December 24
Do my annual good deed. Go to several stores. Be seen engaged in last minute Christmas shopping, thus making many people feel less inadequate than they really are.
December 25
Bear son. Swaddle. Lay in color-coordinated manger scented with homemade potpourri.
December 26
Show neighbors how to redecorate their entire houses with all the used Christmas wrapping paper.
December 27
Build snowwoman in exact likeness of self.
December 28
Organize spice racks by genus and phylum.
December 29
Get new eyeglasses. Grind lenses myself.
December 30
Give staff their New Year's resolutions
December 31
New Year's Eve! Call a friend in each time zone of the world as the clock strikes midnight in that country.
For starters, the vast majority of men don't even think about selecting gifts until Christmas Eve. It's as if they are all frozen in some kind of Ebenezerian Time Warp until 3 p.m. on Dec. 24th, when they - with amazing calm - call other errant men and plan for a last-minute shopping spree.
Once at the mall, they always seem surprised to find only Ronco products, socket wrench sets, and mood rings left on the shelves. (You might think this would send them into a fit of panic and guilt, but my husband tells me it's an enormous relief because it lessens the 11th hour decision-making burden.) On this count alone, I'm convinced Santa is a woman. Surely, if he were a man, everyone in the universe would wake up Christmas morning to find a rotating musical Chia Pet under the tree, still in the bag.
Another problem for a he-Santa would be getting there. First of all, there would be no reindeer because they would all be dead, gutted and strapped on to the rear bumper of the sleigh amid wide-eyed, desperate claims that buck season had been extended. Blitzen's rack would already be on the way to the taxidermist.
Even if the male Santa DID have reindeer, he'd still have transportation problems because he would inevitably get lost up there in the snow and clouds and then refuse to stop and ask for directions. Add to this the fact that there would be unavoidable delays in the chimney, where the Bob Vila-like Santa would stop to inspect and repoint bricks in the flue. He would also need to check for carbon monoxide fumes in every gas fireplace, and get under every Christmas tree that is crooked to straighten it to a perfectly upright 90-degree angle.
Other reasons why Santa can't possibly be a man:
Dear Santa,
I wud like a kool toy space ranjur for Xmas. Iv ben a good boy all yeer.
YeR FReND, BiLLy
Dear Billy,
Nice spelling. You're on your way to being a career lawncare specialist. How 'bout I send you a fucking book so you can learn to read and write? I'm giving your older brother the space ranger, at least HE can spell!
Santa
Dear Santa,
I have been a good girl all year, and the only thing I ask for is peace and joy in the world for everybody!
Love, Sarah
Dear Sarah,
Your parents smoked pot when they had you, didn't they?
Santa
Dear Santa,
I've written you for three years now asking for a fire truck. Please, I really really want a fire truck this year!
Love, Joey
Dear Joey,
Let me make it up to you. While you sleep, I'm gonna torch your house. You'll have more fire trucks than you'll know what to do with.
Santa
Dear Santa,
I don't know if you can do this, but for Christmas, I'd like for my mommy and daddy to get back together. Please see what you can do.
Love,Teddy
Dear Teddy,
What-and ruin that hot affair your dad's still having with the babysitter? He's banging her like a screen door in a hurricane, son! Let me get you some nice Legos instead.
Santa
Dear Santa,
I need more Pokemon cards please! All my friends have more Pokemon cards than me. Please see what you can do.
Love, Michelle
Dear Michelle,
It blows my fucking mind. Kids are forcing their parents to buy hundreds of dollars worth of these stupid cards, and none of you snot-nosed brats are even learning to play the game. Let me get you something more your speed, like "Chutes and Ladders."
Santa
Dear Santa,
I want a new bike, a playstation, a train, some G.I. Joes, a dog, a drum kit, a pony,
and a tuba.
Love, Francis
Dear Francis,
Who names their kid "Francis" nowadays?
Santa
Dear Santa,
I left milk and cookies for you under the tree, and I left carrots for your reindeer outside the backdoor.
Love, Susan
Dear Susan,
Milk gives me the shits and carrots make the deer fart in my face. You want to be a kiss-ass? Leave me a glass of Chivas Regal and some Toblerone.
Santa
Dear Santa,
What do you do the other 364 days of the year? Are you making toys?
Your friend, Thomas
Dear Thomas,
All toys get made in China. I have a condo in Vegas, where I spend most my time squeezing cocktail waitresses' asses, and losing all my cash at the craps table.Hey, YOU wanted to know!
Santa
Dear Santa,
Do you see us when we're sleeping, do you really know when we're awake like in the song?
Love, Jessica
Dear Jessica,
Are you that gullible? Good luck in whatever you do, I'm skipping your house...
Santa
Dear Santa,
I really really want a puppy this year. please please please please PLEASE could I have one?
Timmy
Timmy,
That whiney begging shit may work with your folks, but that crap don't work up here. You're getting a sweater again.
Santa
Dearest Santa,
We don't have a chimney in our house, how do you get into our home?
Love, Marky
Dear Mark,
First, stop calling yourself "Marky," that's why you're getting your ass whipped at school. Secondly, you don't live in a house, that's a low-rent apartment complex you're living in. Thirdly, I get inside your pad just like all the burglars do, through your bedroom window. Sweet Dreams!
Santa
A SAD STORY
Another moving email story ...
Late last December, I was rushing around trying to get some last minute shopping done. I was stressed out and not thinking very fondly of the Christmas season right then. It was dark, cold, and wet in the parking lot as I was loading my car up with gifts that I felt obligated to buy. I noticed that I was missing a receipt that I might need later. So, mumbling under my breath, I retraced my steps to the mall entrance. As I was searching the wet pavement for the lost receipt, I heard a quiet sobbing. The crying was coming from a poorly dressed boy of about 12 years old. He was short and thin. He had no coat. He was just wearing a ragged flannel shirt to protect him from the cold night's chill. Oddly enough, he was holding a hundred-dollar bill in his hand.
"Why didn't you scream for help?" I asked.
The boy said, "I did."
"And nobody came to help you?" I queried. The boy stared at the sidewalk and sadly shook his head. "How loud did you scream?" I inquired.
The soft-spoken boy looked up at me and meekly whispered, "Help me!"
I realized that absolutely no one could have heard that poor boy cry for help. So I grabbed his other hundred and ran to my car.
Signed,
Kenneth Lay
Enron CEO
DIARY OF A SNOW SHOVELER
December 8: It started to snow. The first snow of the season and
the wife and I took our cocktails and sat for hours by the window watching
the huge soft flakes drift down from heaven. It looked like a Grandma Moses
Print. So romantic we felt like newlyweds again. I love snow!
December 9: We woke to a beautiful blanket of crystal white snow covering every inch of the landscape. What a fantastic sight! Can there be a lovelier place in the Whole World? Moving here was the best idea I've ever had. Shoveled for the first time in years, felt like a boy again. I did both our driveway and the sidewalks. This afternoon the snowplow came along and covered up the sidewalks and closed in the driveway, so I got to shovel again. What a perfect life.
December 12: The sun has melted all our lovely snow. Such a disappointment. My neighbor tells me not to worry; we'll definitely have a white Christmas. No snow on Christmas would be awful! Bob says we'll have so much snow by the end of winter that I'll never want to see snow again. I don't think that's possible. Bob is such a nice man, I'm glad he's our neighbor.
December 14: Snow, lovely snow! 8" last night. The temperature dropped to -20. The cold makes everything sparkle so. The wind took my breath away, but I warmed up by shoveling the driveway and sidewalks. This is the life! The snowplow came back this afternoon and buried everything again. I didn't realize I would have to do quite this much shoveling, but I'll certainly get back in shape this way. I wish I wouldn't huff and puff so.
December 15: 20 inches forecast. Sold my van and bought a 4x4 Blazer. Bought snow tires for the wife's car and two extra shovels. Stocked the freezer. The wife wants a wood stove in case the electricity goes out. I think that's silly. We aren't in Alaska, after all.
December 16: Ice storm this morning. Fell on my a** on the ice in the driveway putting down salt. Hurt like hell. The wife laughed for an hour, which I think was very cruel.
December 17: Still way below freezing. Roads are too icy to go anywhere. Electricity was off for five hours. I had to pile the blankets on to stay warm. Nothing to do but stare at the wife and try not to irritate her. Guess I should've bought a wood stove, but won't admit it to her. God I hate it when she's right. I can't believe I'm freezing to death in my own living room.
December 20: Electricity's back on, but had another 14" of the damn stuff last night. More shoveling. Took all day. Goddamn snowplow came by twice. Tried to find a neighbor kid to shovel, but they said they're too busy playing hockey. I think they're lying. Called the only hardware store around to see about buying a snow blower, and they're out. Might have another shipment in March. I think they're lying. Bob says I have to shovel or the city will have it done and bill me. I think he's lying.
December 22: Bob was right about a white Christmas, because 13 more inches of the white shit fell today, and it's so cold it probably won't melt 'til August. Took me 45 minutes to get all dressed up to go out to shovel, and then I had to pee. By the time I got undressed, peed and dressed again, I was too tired to shovel! Tried to hire Bob, who has a plow on his truck, for the rest of the winter; but he says he's too busy. I think the schumck is lying.
December 23: Only 2" of snow today, and it warmed up to "0". The wife wanted me to decorate the front of the house this morning. What, is she nuts!!! Why didn't she tell me to do that a month ago? She says she did, but I think she's lying.
December 24: 6". Snow packed so hard by snowplow, I broke the shovel. Thought I was having a heart attack. If I ever catch the schumck who drives that snowplow, I'll drag him through the snow by his balls and beat him to death with my broken shovel. I know he hides around the corner and waits for me to finish shoveling and then he comes down the street at 100 miles an hour and throws snow all over everywhere I've just been! Tonight the wife wanted me to sing Christmas carols with her and open our presents, but I was too busy watching for that assinying snowplow.
December 25: Merry Fricken Christmas. 20 more inches of the flipping slop tonight. Snowed in. The idea of shoveling makes my blood boil. I hate the snow! Then the snowplow driver came by asking for a donation and I hit him over the head with my shovel. The wife says I have a bad attitude. I think she's a fricking idiot. If I have to watch "It's a Wonderful Life" one more time, I'm going to stuff her into the microwave.
December 26: Still snowed in. Why the hell did I ever move here? It was all HER idea. She's really getting on my nerves.
December 27: Temperature dropped to -30, and the pipes froze. Plumber came after 14 hours of waiting for him; he only charged me $1,400 to replace all my pipes.
December 28: Warmed up to above -50. Still snowed in. The WOMAN is driving me crazy!!!!!
December 29: 10 more inches. Bob says I have to shovel the roof or it could cave in. That's the silliest thing I ever heard. How dumb does he think I am?
December 30: Roof caved in. I beat up the snow plow driver. He is now suing me for a million dollars; not for only the beating I gave him, but also for trying to shove the broken snow shovel up his ass. The wife went home to her mother. 9" predicted.
December 31: I set fire to what's left of the house. No more shoveling
A MEMO TO REDNECKS FROM SANTA
I regret to inform you that, effective immediately, I will no longer serve the
States of Georgia, Florida, Virginia, North and South Carolina,Tennessee, Mississippi,
Texas, and Arkansas on Christmas Eve.
Due to the overwhelming current population of the earth, my contract was renegotiated by North American Fairies and Elves Local 209. As part of the new and better contract, I also get longer breaks for milk and cookies so keep that in mind.
However, I'm certain that your children will be in good hands with your local replacement, who happens to be my third cousin, Bubba Claus.
His side of the family is from the South Pole. He shares my goal of delivering toys to all the good boys and girls; however, there are a few differences between us. Differences such as:
Sincerely Yours,Santa Claus
NATIVITY SCENE
The Supreme Court has ruled that there cannot be a Nativity Scene in Washington, DC
this Christmas season. This isn't for any religious reason, they simply have not been
able to find three wise men and a virgin in the Nation's capital. There was no problem,
however, finding enough asses to fill the stable.
