Christmas Trees

So… Yeah… I fucking hate Christmas Trees. I bet whatever German/Dutch asshole that first had the idea was a fucking masochist assburger. Seriously. Did he–no wait… it had to be a woman. Did she really think it was a good idea?

“Dieter, I have a vunderful idea.”

“Ja?”

“Let’s haul a living tree into our home, and decorate it with candles while saying a prayer for ze Baby Jesus.”

“Ja…”

Little did poor Dieter realize that this was actually punishment from his wife for the piss poor job he had done farming that year. If Dieter had done a better job raising cattle or sheep or hemp or whatever the hell they farmed in Central Europe in those days… we wouldn’t have Christmas Tree Fights today.

And tonight I, for one, am particularly pissed at Dieter for his fuckup. Because of him–and, of course, myself–I got to have my second… that’s right second Christmas Tree Fight of the Holiday season.

“But Bruce… I just saw Mel’s Blog… Wasn’t your Christmas Tree already up?”

You’re fuckin’ right it was up.

About 2 hours ago, Mel asks me if I think the tree is falling over. It looks like it has a slight lean to it, sure.

“But I think it’s just at the top, there. The star’s leaning that top branch over pretty good, and it looks like the whole tree’s slanted,” I reply even though I can clearly see that the bottom of the tree itself has a bit of a lean to it. But it looks sturdy enough. Fuck it. It’s not going anywhere.

Then, 20 or so minutes ago now, I’m in the shitter, reading the copy of Casino Royale that I found in a scrap car this past summer. And I hear a thud.

“Guess I was wrong,” I called out as I reached for the arsewipe.

Savage at myself for putting the tree up wrong in the first place, compounded by the fact that I didn’t fix it when it was mentioned, tripled by the fact that the water in the stand splashed over Mel’s presents under the tree, ruining one of them and fucking up the paper pretty good on three others, I started in on what would become my second fucking Christmas Tree Fight of 2008. Run-on Sentences RULE!

Fuck fuck fuck fuck fucking Dieter, I hate you, you mankind dooming, self loathing, shit for brains douche-hat.

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