TIS THE SEASON
Here at the Prickly Heat Senior Citizen Trailer Park and Public Boat Launch – overlooking Lake Flaccid, somewhere near Lutz Lake, at the base of Viagra Falls, just outside of Gomer, Florida, is where I live with my pit bulldog, Ginger. The other resident octogenarians have nick-named me Santa Claus. Aside from the snowy beard of white, now stained by chain-smoking and an occasional snack of cheesy nachos with salsa, like ole Sant Nick I too keep a list of all those who are naughty and nice, and I definitely plan to visit all the naughty gals twice. Hey, why is it when Santa Claus ‘♫…knows when you are sleeping ♫ knows when you are awake ♫ knows when you’ve been bad or good ♫ … they write songs about him - when I do it, I get a restraining order!
While I may no longer be lively and quick – the ladies love me because I’ve got a big . . . dingy; that can take six comfortably out to my houseboat. I keep it anchored on the lake.
I am looking forward to a joyous and restful Christmas having just endured the onslaught of relatives residing in my residence and a Black Friday that had me risking life and limb at the shopping mall. My granddaughter made it abundantly clear that her life would end at the tender year of seven, if she did not get an Oopsie Doopsie Queasy Bake Oven for Christmas. I certainly did not want that on my conscience. I enjoy shopping about as much as I relish a visit to the proctologist; both are huge pain in the posterior. Speaking of which, I traveled thousands of miles to pay a visit to my elderly Aunt Louise, who can’t even remember what she had for breakfast let alone remember me. After many hours behind the wheel, sucking back one Red Bull after another, aside from the brief blackouts, I had ample opportunity to think about the true meaning of the holidays. It is all about relationships. For each person they can mean something different, such as an old spinster with her cat, a redneck and his truck, a gangster and a gun, a hillbilly with his cousin, a nerd and his computer, or a hermit with . . . himself. Specifically, I am referring to those relationships we have with our family. It is not the food, or the gifts, but the connection to others which means the most. The more I thought about it, I realized I'd missed the rest stop and had to pull over and hike into the woods to take a wiz. Afterwards, I came to the conclusion we do most everything either for or because of other people. So, as you are dashing through the stores to get a deal on a two hundred inch flat-screen TV or roasting a beast for the family feast, remember in the end, it is the memories that will remain along with all the bills to be paid. Happiest of holidays to you and yours.
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