I don't know what happened to me the night before…must have gotten drunk? Well anyways I was on a stool in Mike's Bar, and I must have passed out or something 'cause I woke up in the hospital…probably freaked out the bar tender…but that's besides the point.
While I was out it seemed as though I was going through my own version of Mr. Scrooges' story and such.
The ghost of Christmas past was a dragon, believe it or not, and I didn't quite pay attention when he brought to to a Christmas over two years ago when my uncle Marty had died. This was a bit weird because it was the middle of July…the could have done 'the Ghost of July Past, Present and Future…' the things you dream when you pass out because of alcohol? And it really brings the Christmas in July thing into a whole new perspective.
When the ghost of Christmas present came…heh, you'll never believe thins…it was a ballerina! …No idea…? Well anyway, she brought me to the last Christmas that passed. I hadn't gone to my mother's house for Christmas Eve dinner that year. Boo-hoo. And I didn't really pay much attention to her either…my short attention span was taking over my curiosity and I began to believe I was going to hell! Well it was my assumption at the time because the two ghosts showed me two bad things I had done over the last two Christmases. And then she was gone, and I didn't have another thought of it.
I knew there was a third ghost, but it had slipped my mind by now. I was thoroughly freaked out and thought it couldn't get any worse, when a chik-fil-a cow body with the head of Mr. Ton it's shoulders appeared. I just about screamed, but before I could do so I was whisked away to the upcoming Christmas. The scary thing was…and I couldn't believe my eyes…it was my funeral…no one was there…I noticed it was snowing…and it looked quiet and cold, and then it was gone…
When I became sober…and it was a month later before I went to see a psychiatrist…the person had nothing to say about my ordeal, she might as well just given me a sign that read: "INSANE: Keeps Away." And I left before she could do so.
And it's ironic because that next Christmas…I did die. You'll never guesswhat from. That's right…alcohol poisoning…and as I watch myself in the casket and saw no one show up…I came to this conclusion: no matter how unpopular of popular you are, the number of people at your funeral always depends on the weather of the day…