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You know, I think the worst thing about the Holiday Season (aside from the shopping, commercialism, greed, snow, cold, annoying Christmas music being pumped through the speakers in any and all public buildings you might be in, and the mall Santa popping a boner in your lap) is by far those annoying little letters you get from friends and family updating you on what they've been up to lately in their "neck of the woods".
You know the ones, they update you on what your aunts, uncles and cousins you haven't seen in YEARS have been up to for the past year. As if you could give a shit. "Oh boy! Little Timmy won the hog-breeding contest in the 4-H fair, and Uncle Larry just bought a new trailer home! You're SURE I actually share blood with these degenerates?"
Worse yet are the ones that you get from your co-workers, telling you about THEIR horrible families. I hardly give half a shit about any of my co-workers, let alone their families whom I've never met and have no intention of ever meeting. Some fuckhead at my workplace stuck one of those goddamned things up on the refrigerator in the kitchen, so that every time I go in there for food I can't help but notice that Johnny learned to ride a bicycle and Susie has adopted the latest whore fashions of Britney Spears. I want to tear the fucking thing down, wipe my ass with it, and then stick it back up there, but I fear that may cost me my job if I'm discovered.
So I endure it. It could be worse. It could be one of THOSE letters. One of the ones where the newborn baby and family dog have "written" personal notes on there in the first person. I shudder to think of encountering Fido's reminiscing on the past year or perhaps seeing an infant giving a detailed account of her diaper changing next time I go to the fridge.
Just once I'd like to see an interesting version of one of those letters. I mean, if you're going to put words in someone else's mouth and write stuff for them, make it interesting, embarrassing, or incriminating, you know? For example:
"Gawd dammit. Martha called me in off the porch to write a little note to everyone and tell you what I've been up to. I ain't been up to shit, and I'd be up to more non-shit right now if I didn't have to write to you assholes and tell you about it. I reckon I been out of work ever since them aliens took me up onto their ship and done told me the secrets of the universe. In the meantime, I been spending my time awash in an overwhelming stench of rotten cabbage, going down to the bus stop every day to lewdly stare and drool at them catholic schoolgirls, and trying to identify and classify the various stains on my pants. And I'm fixin' to go back out on the porch and get right drunk again after this. I reckon it's been a purdy good year. Say, did I ever tell you about the time the aliens took me up onto their ship
'n told me the secrets of the universe?"
"Salutations all! Rather a lovely time of year, and I do certainly enjoy the thought of my very first Christmas! Why just the other day after my nap, mother and I were discussing the ramifications of commercialism on a once religious holiday and the overall effect it has on-oh shit. I seem to have made "poopie" in my pants again just now. GODDAMN THESE WEAK BOWELS!!! WORK, DAMN YOU!! I HATE YOU GOD FOR CURSING ME WITH THIS FRAIL MIDGET BODY AND ITS FAULTY
PLUMBING!!"
"My life is pain. Today master beat me in the ass with a newspaper again and yelled at me in a drunken rage. Something about the aliens and how the "probe" causes his hemorrhoids to flair up. And then the other dogs made fun of me and kept asking me if I wanted to get some Taco Bell. They are so fucking mean! Do they not understand that I have feelings? Then I sniffed my ass, licked my balls, and ate my own poop.
I hate my life."
There. Now wouldn't that shit be at least a LITTLE more interesting to read? Hell, I'd probably only vomit on something like that instead of wiping my ass with it.
note:
Protoclown has spent the last year trying to build a working
go-cart out of popsicle sticks and has been learning how to knit
sweaters for his friends. He also recently won the annual 4-H
hog-breeding competition and has been devising a plan for the
removal of the alien anal probe that's been a painful part of
him since April. Until the day upon which it is finally removed,
he'll keep hanging around the school bus stop, getting drunk on
the porch, and shitting himself constantly into a state of
blissful oblivion.
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