Wednesday, December 25, 2013


One day, I decided to do something that nobody in the history of the world had ever, ever done before. 

But I couldn't think of anything, so I just watched TV for about twelve hours straight and ate fifteen or twenty Mexican and double Salisbury Steak TV dinners washed down with about a gallon of prune juice.  Ha ha, just kidding about the prune juice. 

The next day, I thought it would be a cute idea to strike out into the neigborhood and surrounding environs in search of the true meaning of Christmas.  So I put on my cutest "searching for the true meaning of Christmas" Santa Claus outfit and skipped merrily out the front door.

WHAM!!! I ran smack dab into the mailman!  With a gutteral groan, the old man flew backward over my porch railing into a mass of prickly thorn bushes and landed with a hefty thud.

"WHAT THE HELL IS YOUR MAJOR MALFUNCTION, YOU BRAIN-DEAD OLD MORON!!!" I screamed at the prostrate figure as he struggled to his feet amidst a shower of letters and Christmas cards.  "How dare you obstruct me when I'm on a mission to discover the true meaning of Chris--" 

I caught myself just as my tirade was about launch into high gear.  Realizing how sadly ironic this whole situation was, I controlled my anger and quickly turned it into sympathy and compassion for the poor mailman who, after all,  wasn't entirely at fault.  Helping him to his feet, I offered him a cheery "Merry Christmas, assh***!" and then kicked him squarely in the balls, plucking my mail from his hand as I shoved him down the sidewalk. 

He staggered to his little jeep and presently weaved his way down the street whereupon he then crashed through a wooden fence and into someone's backyard swimming pool. 

Restraining an impulse to chuckle at his screams for help, I demonstrated my empathy for others by wincing at the thought of how freezing cold that pool water must be before setting off down the sidewalk in the other direction.  "True meaning of Christmas, here I come!" I sang at the top of my lungs as I skipped, swinging  my lunch basket to and fro. 

Presently I passed a church and happened upon some children who were setting up a display in the front yard.  It was composed of some mannequins of people from the really old days, with robes and turbans and stuff, and a few farm animals like donkeys and things.  They were set up under a small shed and huddled around a baby doll in a trough lined with hay. 

"What the hell's all this crap?" I greeted them brightly, flashing my nicest smile. 

They must've been an ill-tempered bunch, because they met my friendly greeting with undisguised hostility.  "It's a Nativity scene, stupid!" one of them sneered.  "Don't you know anything?"

With an admirable display of self-control, I replied nicely, "Yes,  I know lots of things.  For example, I know...THIS!" 

With that, I dashed away and rounded the corner of the church, disappearing from their view.  The children looked at each other and shrugged.  When I came back into view, I was holding a super-soaker filled with finely-aged wolf urine. 

The children's screams were like beautiful music to my ears as I drenched them thoroughly, making sure to give the slower ones a double dose as they struggled to escape.  Then I danced around with each mannequin one at a time like a celebrity contestant on "Dancing With the Stars" before hurling it after the retreating figures,  who were soaked to the skin with the wonderfully rancid wolf urine. 

The baby mannequin I passed like a football, and boy oh boy was it ever a beaut of a pass!  One of the kids made an awesome leaping catch which ended with him flying headfirst into a dumpster full of hog entrails behind a butcher shop.  Six points for the home  team!

When all the excitement had started to die down and my senses slowly returned to my fevered brain, I stopped and thought for a moment.  Was this it?  Had I discovered the true meaning of Christmas? 

I lay down in the trough with my feet hanging over the sides and twiddled my thumbs, ruminating happily upon what an enlightening day it had been.  People began to file past, observing me with a strange sort of fascination or repulsion or whatever--I can't really tell the difference sometimes. 

"What the hell are you supposed to be?" one of them asked.

"I'm the true meaning of Christmas!" I answered brightly in a  cute, elfin voice.  "Now SHUT UP!!!"

1 comment:

blackwalnut2001 said...

Just now getting around to reading this one, as I always allow a year and a month between Xmas postings and my response, for reasons not limited to hibernation, "holiday nausea" and Santaphobia. Quite a thoughtful Porfle post as always, ringed with a humanitarian aureole that movingly reveals your soft side. Okay. Now, do you know where I can get one of those mannequins? I only have the one, but she's worn to a frazzle and I've rubbed the paint off her in spots. If not, that's okay. I'll just keep scouring the dumpsters out behind Sears every fortnight. (Watch out for those ho-ho-hog entrails.) Would love to hear your thoughts on the True Spirit of Krampus!