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The 12 Days of My Dysfunctional Christmas By: Robin Alexander
Disclaimer: Contains adult content. Special thanks to Tara for the wonderful editing she did on this story. Her attention to detail, and gentle encouragement made this story a joy to write. All comments welcome @ robin@robinfic.com
The Twelve Days of My Dysfunctional
Christmas
I’ve never understood that song about
the twelve days of Christmas. Someone out there
obviously had a true love who was very wealthy. For
twelve days, some lucky soul got a gift, and one of
those days, the gift was five golden rings! Did this
wench discover oil in her back yard? My meager income
would allow me only a very cheap golden ring, and I’d
spend the rest of the year paying for it.
My true love always gives the best
gifts, and mine pale in comparison. The fishing lure I
gave her last year was a fine example of just how bad I
sucked at gift giving. This year, I planned to make
amends and do something special for my true love. I
decided to go to the mall, something I refuse to do at
Christmas. My heart was full of good intentions, but the
result was something altogether different.
As expected, I found a parking spot a
mile away from the mall and had to fight for that. My
heart sank as I passed hundreds of vehicles, knowing
that their owners were all inside. Sure enough, as I
opened the doors, I was swept into the tide of humanity,
pushing and shoving me past everywhere I wanted to stop.
I’d all but given up when I spotted Santa, and a grin
made its way across my frustrated face.
I patiently stood in line, waiting
for my photo opportunity with the fat bearded man. To my
surprise, the line moved quickly, and in no time at all,
I was on his lap. Just before the picture was snapped,
an idea that would make the picture truly special popped
into my simple mind. I whipped out a tit just as Santa’s
helper took the picture. The last thing I remember was
an angry mother beating me with a diaper bag before
security dragged me away.
On the first day of Christmas, my
true love bailed me out of jail.
Internet shopping was the way to go,
I decided as I sat in front of the computer in my undies
with a hot cup of coffee in hand. My fingers no sooner
touched the keyboard when the screen went black. It was
then that I noticed the cat staggering out from behind
the desk, missing a lot of fur, and what was left was on
fire.
On the second day of Christmas, my
true love paid the vet's bill and bought the cat a
sweater and me a new power cord for the computer.
Well, shit! I’m banned from the mall
for life. The cat won’t let me near the computer because
he now thinks it’s a monster. I was running out of
ideas. Then, my eyes settled on the broken vase given to
my love by her dearly departed grandmother. Her heart
was broken when she bumped into it and sent it crashing
to the floor. My heart leapt for joy. This would be the
perfect gift. I would super glue each piece back
together for her.
On the third day of Christmas, my
true love took me to the hospital to have the vase
removed from my hand and thigh. Don’t ask!
My true love despises untangling and
stringing the Christmas lights, so this year, I thought
I would surprise her by doing the chore myself. After
untangling the mass of lights, I grabbed the ladder and
began to adorn the front of our house with decorations.
On the fourth day of Christmas, my
true love rescued me as I hung suspended in the air by
several strings of Christmas lights possessed by the
devil.
By day five, I was running out of
Band-Aids, burn cream and patience, so I rested. Shut
up!
On the seventh day of Christmas …
Yeah, I skipped six. Did I mention I was running out of
patience?
Where was I? Oh yeah, the seventh. I
was foolish enough to venture down to the local pottery
market. My love always wanted one of those Chimeneas.
You know the things you use as a fireplace on your
patio? Well, I found the perfect one and leapt for joy.
The way my luck was going, I should have never even left
the house. My joyful leap knocked over a half-dozen
Chimeneas.
On the seventh day of Christmas, I
emptied my savings and paid for the destruction I had
caused. I didn’t tell my true love jack shit.
Five days until Christmas, and I
wasn’t any closer to finding the perfect gift. I drove
to the airport to pick up my sister, her kids and my
mother-in-law. My true love's mother was a difficult
woman; my love even had problems getting along with her.
I knew it wasn’t wise having her in the same vehicle
with my sister’s wild animals, but I wasn’t willing to
make two trips across town in Christmas traffic.
On the eighth day of Christmas, my
true love and I spent the evening getting a lollipop out
of her mother’s hair while filling her with spiked
eggnog to cool her down.
My sister stayed at our house,
watching her children tear up my home, as my
mother-in-law and I shopped for Christmas dinner.
Naturally, everything I chose was met with disapproval;
in her mind, such meals should be made from scratch. And
scratch is exactly what I wanted to do as she loaded
flour and fresh fruit for pies into the shopping cart.
The real problem arose on aisle five
where we got into a bitter dispute over the turkey. I
had compromised on the whole meal, but this was one
thing I was not backing down on. Our voices rose,
attracting other shoppers, whom we ignored as the bitter
battle raged on over whether the bird would be highly
seasoned and fried or baked traditionally.
On the ninth day of Christmas, my
true love apologized profusely to the manager as my
mother-in-law and I were banned from the local grocery
store. I didn’t start throwing the frozen foods until
the evil mother-in-law did.
The tenth day rolled around, and I
was frantic. I still had not gotten a gift for my love.
I was afraid after all the trouble, she’d ask me for a
divorce for Christmas. I hid in the garage from the evil
mother-in-law, allowing my sister's children to drive
her to the brink of insanity. I paced back and forth,
wracking my brain over what I could get for my love.
The eleventh day had arrived,
Christmas Eve, and I was no closer to finding the
perfect gift. That evening, we had friends over for
dinner, and we all sat around the tree with the
mother-in-law from hell, my sister and her two hellions.
Surprisingly, the night went smoothly, despite the fact
that I still had not achieved my goal.
Christmas morning arrived, and the
den was alive with children squealing over what Santa
had delivered. Evil incarnate stayed in the kitchen
cooking the Christmas meal, and I sat next to the fire
with my head hung low. My true love approached me with a
small box. I felt tears sting my eyes as I opened it to
find a beautiful charm bracelet with seven charms, each
one signifying the seven wonderful years we’d spent as a
couple.
The gift was so well thought out and
precious that I burst into tears and fled the room, no
longer able to face the love of my life. As I feared,
she followed me into the bedroom where I explained that
the last twelve days had been a complete nightmare and
that I was empty-handed and had no gift worthy of her.
She joined me on the bed and sweetly
wiped my tears away, all the while explaining that I was
the greatest gift she’d ever been given. That all of my
shortcomings were endearing and she would not trade a
minute of it if she could. No gift I could ever give
would mean any more to her than me being at her side.
Even though the turkey burst into
flames, my nephew marked his territory on our Christmas
tree and the cat ate half his sweater; this was the best
Christmas ever.
The End
Did I mention that I began my
Christmas shopping for next year in January?
OK, really ... The End
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