To whom it may concern: What did YOU do for Christmas 2021? You say that you took your kids to the waterpark? That sounds nice. How old are your children? The girl is fourteen and the boy is eleven? Wow, cool. Do you all exchange gifts? You do? Oh.
My Christmas? It was fun. What did I do? A lot of stuff. Jeez, you really wanna know all the details? Alright, I'll try to remember...
First I got in the car and drove to a restaurant. I don't want to reveal its name, because then whoever's listening in on our conversation might take notes and seek it out, so the place will be crowded the next time I go there. I want it to remain unknown: that way, I can continue to enjoy its quiet atmosphere. It's a small place with about ten tables, but I've only ever seen two or three other customers dining whenever I walk in. Dim, red lighting. On this occasion, I sat at my usual spot and drank several martinis. Then I ordered a rib-eye steak. Very flavorful.
Next I went to visit all my aunts and cousins. I called for a taxi, since I'd been drinking. The previous week, I had gone out and bought everyone in my extended family heartfelt gifts and then wrapped them professionally. So, when the cab showed up, I had to transfer all these packages from the back seat of my Cadillac to the trunk of the taxi. And, at every stop, I paid the driver extra to wait for me (my aunts and cousins all live in Wisconsin, Iowa, and Minnesota; so it's a lot of driving, but we didn't need to cross any oceans; so there were no ferry tolls), "I'll only be about five minutes," I'd say to the cabbie each time, although it usually took me upwards of an hour to distribute all the gifts to my loved ones and watch them open them. I got everyone the same thing: loaded shotguns. They're a very useful item. All my aunts and cousins thanked me, and they apologized for not having a gift prepared to give to me in return, because they hadn't expected me to show up, since I usually skip Christmas. "No worries," I'd say. Then I'd clap my gloved hands together and announce, "Well, I have a taxi waiting outside, leaking oil on your driveway — I really should hit the road." Then I'd blow a kiss to everyone and leave the front door ajar as I dashed back to the cab thru the dark-gray slush.
That's it. After attending all the Christmas celebrations with my aunts and cousins in the tri-state area, I told the taxi driver to drop me off at the bowling alley across the street from the laundromat, and I played a few games; then I walked home in the dark.
Tell me now, when you and your family spent your Christmas at the waterpark, did you need to rent innertubes to buoy you up, so that you could stay afloat and avoid drowning, or are you all graduates of a swimming class that you took at some point in your life, so that you're comfortable treading water? Ah, I see: you rented a family-sized raft? Very smart. I should purchase a few wooden rafts for myself. That's a wise idea: I could store them in my neighbor's shed. He wouldn't mind. Its door has a padlock on it, but I could figure out the combo.
What's that you say? You wonder if I'm aware that there's a woman in a silver evening gown who has been continually gesturing to me from across the room? Yes, that's my old flame, Vanessa. I can talk to her later. Right now I'm interested in continuing OUR convo: yours and mine, buddy. Your family's Christmas has me intrigued. I hope you don't mind if I pry a little bit, to uncover more details — Here's what I'm wondering:
Did you spend ONLY Christmas morning at the waterpark, or was this a multi-day event? Whoa, really? You're not kidding? Holy smoke! You say that you arrived on the day before Christmas Eve, and then you stayed overnight, and all thru the next day and night as well, until Santa officially appeared on the 25th, and you posed for a family photo with the Jolly Good Fellow; then you left a few hours after dusk; so you had just enough time to race home, quickly dry off with fluffy white towels, and then attend this 4-a.m. cocktail party? That's impressive. I myself am too scared to sleep in strange parks; I've tried it a few times, and it always ends the same way: I toss and turn throughout the evening, thinking I'll eventually drift into dreamland where everything is fine; but then, after nightfall, when I realize that I can't even see my own hand in front of my face because it's so dark, I start to panic, and, within moments, I bolt up and stumble over to my canoe, then navigate back to my rental vehicle and drive to the nearest tavern, often forgetting to turn on my headlights. One of the women who works there usually invites me to sleep at her apartment; so I phone my guru and ask if this sounds like a good idea, and he always says "Of course!" That's why I pay him the big bucks.
Now, tell me, when you go roughing it at the waterpark for so many days and nights, like you did with your family this Christmas, do you bring along an inflatable shelter, like those air-filled castles that you see in newspaper ads? No, you don't? Are you pulling my leg? Then what do you pack in your suitcases, only toothpaste? Oh, I see: you say that you carry one of those roll-up tents under your arm; and, after you uncrumple it and flatten it out and pound in the stakes, it works just fine as a makeshift kitchen to fry eggs and conduct family meetings in? That's a really good idea.
However, once you're inside your tent at the waterpark, frying eggs and discussing political theories with your children while your wife remains out-of-focus in the background and tries on one wetsuit after another, aren't you scared that hungry wolves will creep forth from a nearby cave and surround you? You're not? But why? Ah, I see: You have no fear of being attacked by wolves because you carry enough raw horseflesh to feed them amply. And they always fall asleep after gorging themselves. Yet even if they were to awake and start following you around the waterpark in hopes of being offered regular meals, you would not be fazed, because you stock enough meat in your satchel to satiate all the wolves of the world a trillion times over. Hmm, I gotta say: I admire how well-prepared you are.
No comments:
Post a Comment