It was the most sinister time of the year:
Christmas.
As usual, obese, bell waving men in red suits were everywhere, trying to coax me into giving them the dirty few pennies I had just recieved after buying my yearly bottle of holiday tequilla. Rich, suburban children flitted in and out of stores, making mental lists of which overpriced toy they would demand 'Santa' to bring them. And, as always, the Christian carolers sang lovely ditties about how their lord and savior was born in a pile of hay (though I don't think Jesus really wanted people to talk about that. I mean, I stayed at a Motel 6 once, which is pretty parrallel to a manger: dirty, bed like straw, animals everywhere, and I don't really like to talk about it. *shudder*)
Anyway, the glowing holiday spirit was everywhere...
Except in me.
I never really liked the holidays. Probably becuase when I was little, before my mom became a dad and I found out that my biological father was a guy who was in a mental institution in Cincinati becuase the llamas 'JUST WON'T GO AWAY!', I was always alone during the holidays.
Every year, I watched all my friends huddle together with their parents in front of a big decorated tree, sipping large mugs of hot cocoa with a candy cane to stir in the whipped cream, and compared it to my own lonely life, when the only time I could even talk to my mother was when she came home from the strip bar where she worked. She usually came home at three in the morning, drunk, and smelling of perfume and smoke. I wouldn't dare hug her, for fear of contracting lung cancer.
Most nights, though, she stayed in a motel across the street from our apartment, so I was alone. Especially during Christmas. My mother would go out partying with her literal girlfriends, and would give me about ten bucks so I could spring for a 'FDA approved meal'...my present. Which, by the way, was usually a McChicken sandwhich and a coke.
So needless to say, those years of lonliness has made me a little bitter, which is why when the fat impersonator began his incessant prodding for my spare change, I promtply introduced my knee cap to his balls (Hey, don't give me that look! It's not like he was using them anyway...I mean, how much action do you think a guy who works for red cross as a 'Santa wannabe' gets? Maybe a session of pity sex from the sixteen year old stock room girl at the 'Seven Eleven', but that's it).
Of course, the lovely state rent-a-cop didn't buy my 'years of childhood depression' excuse, and I have been sent directly to jail, without passing GO or collecting two hundred dollars, for a minimum of ninety days.
So here I am, on an metal bed ten times as more comfortable than the floor I usually sleep on, staring across the room at my cellmate, Brenda, who apparently just ran over her ex-boyfriend's golden retreiver after he broke up with her (Though she is a very pleasent person to talk to). They've given me a plate of rubbery turkey and liquid cranberries, which is probably the best thing I have ever tasted in my entire life. Plus, they have cable TV in each cell block...I like this place...
This is the best Christmas ever!
Author notes
I used Option #3, begining my story with
"It was the most sinister time of the year..."
A contest entry
- Writing Exercises by Delfishie.
400 points, ended May 21, 2007, 8 entries
Gold trophy winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Story Quickie Prewrite Contest - Winner Pays it Forward by Hekate.
375 points, ended January 28, 8 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - Storywrite's Next Top Story Creation by whichcraft.
350 points, ended May 12, 38 entries
Honorable winner
• next story in this contest, remove from contest - January, Anybody? by Lady-Jane.
175 points, ended June 8, 6 entries
• next story in this contest, remove from contest
^_^
Comments
1 - 10 of 10
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Good job! Though you might find i like to argue about things.
So may i comment on where you say
"Christian carolers sang lovely ditties about how their lord and savior was born in a pile of hay (though I don't think Jesus really wanted people to talk about that. I mean, I stayed at a Motel 6 once, which is pretty parrallel to a manger: dirty, bed like straw, animals everywhere, and I don't really like to talk about it. *shudder*)"
Well, though this has nothing to do with your story, i think Jesus did want people to talk about that. The significance of him being born in a manger was first a fullfillment of prophecy things, and sencond showed how he didn't come to earth sword raging to destroying, but humbly as an innocent baby. Well there i argueed.
Any ways, funny work and good job!
-bri -
I found your story to be rather funny. Everyone thinks that around the holidays, we are all happy and full of cheer. Well, I agree that the holidays suck most of the time and if it wasn't for my family and my ability to create my own fictional world, I would probably be constantly depressed. I like the direction your story took and the fact that it isn't a typical Christmas story. Thank you for entering and good luck.
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Now this just made me giggle. *giggles to prove it*
I'm glad that you had fun writing this, and I can tell you were pretty much making fun of life, but there are two things that kind of make me sad. First, the fact that time in jail is better than time living free for anyone - I know it happens, and there are a lot of homeless people who try to get arrested just for that reason, but it still makes my a bit sad... (I know, I know...my empathy is showing...*laughs*). Second, the fact that your narrator had such an awful life growing up, simply because it makes me realize how much I've taken my own (fantastic, relatively speaking) family for granted.
Overall, however, this was really quite enjoyable and definitely funny. I don't know how little kids ever believe there is A Santa when he's standing on every street corner begging for spare change, anyways. *laughs*
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heh! that was good. I laughed.
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"making metal lists" - Hee, I think you meant "mental," although the thought of little kids stopping in the middle of a toy department to pull out a hammar and chistle to emboss their christmas lists into a sheet of iron is kinda awesome.
"Dear" *Bang* *Bang* *Bang*
"Santa" *Bang* Bang* Bang*
heheheh.
-"the fat impersonator" - HAH! That's an AWESOME AWESOME term for Santa! LOL!
This was a GREAT story. I love the dry, negative humor of it. I love the narrator. I love that JAIL is better than freedom.
The entire piece was just excellent. It would be publishable if you ironed out the handful of grammar and spelling errors.
Excellent job.
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ok i went and fixed all the spelling and grammar mistakes i could find...I just hope I got all of them!
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woww this us very goood
good lucks in da contest
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ps: i really liked the part about the father being in a mental institute because 'the llamas just won't go away.' sounds like you had fun with this.
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wow this is good it made me laugh goodluck in the contest.
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