FHC’s earliest memory of Christmas

I usually get in a fight with my family, break-up with my boyfriend and give my notice to vacate to my roommate around November to avoid the big filthy annual Christmas gift trade. I did not time it very well this year and I find myself having to get personalized Christmas gifts for people who clearly don’t need anything and have high expectations. It is a dangerous and stressful exercise that involves lust, revenge and greed and that I would prefer to avoid. Silent Night, Deadly Night. I was brought up in a family where people did not know how to hide their disappointment when opening their presents: my mother particularly had the annoying habit to express her frustration. She threw more than one painted noodle necklace and patiently handmade holiday ornament at my face at Christmas time and interrupted many poems by angrily asking where the real gift was. Doesn't feel like Christmastime until I feel dried hand-painted noodles slapped into my face now!  There is always a huge terrified silence when she opens her presents on Christmas morning as we are all conscious that her disappointment could lead to a murderous rampage (we even had to replace cutters by plastic knives to open presents in 1991). My brother started to breed too so it means even additional gifts and my niece is still too young to understand that “when uncle FHC was a kid, he would only get one orange, two pieces of charcoal and physical abuse for Christmas and yet he was such a happy camper! He also had to walk to church for hours in the snow in cardboard shoes. That's how f**cking tough FHC’s Dickensian youth was out there in France during WWII”. This year, after much thinking, I have been seeking to pick my Christmas gifts for all my Christian bullies’ relatives out of the undergear catalog so as to ensure at least pleasurable shopping experience. I fear gift-unwrapping time.

Comments

[LL]

My gift to FHC this year is serving as his driving tutor. Surprise!