Dear Santa,
All I want for Christmas is you not wriggling down my chimney and getting soot all over the living room floor! I bet you have no idea how hard it is to get cookie crumbs and eggnog out of the carpet since Mrs. Claus does all the grunt work for you! I'm mean, ga! Roof tiles aren't cheap you know! And they're not a landing pad for your reindeer either! Last year the neighbors called the cops saying that there was a fat guy breaking in entering! You can imagine what a merry Christmas I had having to explain to the police at four in the morning that my little kid still believes in you! And don't even get me started on those tools of violence you call toys! What kind of example do you think you're setting for the children?! And for goodness sake... learn how to use a damn exercise machine!
He he, I've been wanting to do my ranting mom impression all year. The season has finally come. A time for Happy Holidays and good cheer... and don't forget the blissful death of many a parent's bank account. Ah, what a joyous season. I meant to start this message by telling you about how Hippy Longstockings bailed on half the money for fixing the grandfather clock... but hey, it's the Christmasy month, I'm trying to be jolly little lad. Except I hate that peace-loving tie dye headband for trying to laugh off thirty bucks. Seasons greetings can go suck a candy cane. So what if all her clothes got shredded because her mom's evil pet Golem has an understandable dislike for hippies. I generally don't trust anyone who blames their bad choices in washing-machines on their cat. For some weird reason, she suggested telling me an insightful story to make up for the loss. And since I didn't want to scare off a customer, I agreed. Plus, it's an insightful story from a hippy. Who wouldn't? So it went a little something like this.
There once was a little girl who lived in an old house at the end of a dead end road with a broken lamppost. The little girl lived in the old house all by herself since her family left long ago. The one rule the little girl had was to never keep the windows open, since the old house creaked and groaned whenever they were. So every night the little girl made sure the windows stayed firmly shut, and every night the little girl went to sleep feeling empty. For as long as the little girl could remember, this is what she did. Until one night, the old house began to feel so suffocating it was unbearable, so the little girl threw open her windows without a single thought to her only rule. The little girl went to sleep that night feeling alive for the first time in a long time. When the little girl woke up the next morning, she felt cold. The little girl tried to open her eyes, but they refused to listen. Eventually, the little girl was able to see, but what she saw terrified her. The entire room and everything in it had frozen over. Her mirror, her night stand... even the little girl herself. She tried to move, but the cold seeped through her skin, almost reaching her still beating heart. All seemed lost to the little girl as she almost closed her eyes for the last time... but the sole thing that saved her came from the open window she had thought was dangerous. It was a firefly. A small and fragile thing that glowed with a feint light. The firefly approached and rested over the little girl's heart, sending warm through her whole body. Cupping the firefly in her hands, the little girl rose from her bed and walked out her bedroom door. The entire house seemed to creep with the chilling frost, but a path was cleared from the light of the tiny firefly. When the little girl reached the front door, she turned the handle and opened it to meet an even warmer light. It was the broken lamppost. It had come back to life.
I know right? Weird. Even for a hippy. It's definitely not one of those heartwarming Christmas stories you tell your kids around an open fire. And I have absolutely no idea how that was supposed to be "insightful". Maybe she meant five dollar fortuneteller rip-off kind of insightful. Or maybe I'm just super dense. No way. I'm totally not the kind of guy to ignore Batman when he says to get rid of the potentially dangerous device that a lady who threatened my life gave me. I'm also not dense enough to refuse a sweater. The first one was sarcastic, the second was not. I will take the friggin sweater, damn it. And I don't want to hear a word about it. EVER.
Jayden Archer (you'd remember me from the naughty list)
Dear Concerned Mom,
Really. Don't expect anything more than a lump of coal in your stocking for that angry mother impression you did. No matter how realistically ironic it was. I'm pretty sure your name is in fact on the naughty list... written in permanent marker. I'm surprised you let your "valued customer" get away with giving you half of the payment you obviously worked hard for. It's unlike you. SO unlike you as a matter of fact, that I suspect you're planning on using that lump of coal in your stocking as part of your revenge scheme. Because everyone knows that all forms of fossil fuels are a hippy's kryptonite. But anyways, I might be able to shed some light on your dense disposition. The story. It does have an insightful meaning to it whether you can understand it or not. You see, the little girl isn't actually a little girl... it's an old woman. The house is actually the person, and the little girl is the heart of the lady. She's still a little girl on the inside, but the house (body) itself is aged. The story says that the little girl's family left long ago, but in reality, the woman closed the doors to her heart and shut them out. So the old woman is alone. She refused to re-open her heart (the windows) for fear of the pain that comes with it (the creaking and groaning of the house). So she stays locked away on the inside. But eventually, the old woman begins to feel regret and remorse (the suffocating) and decides to open her heart again. But by then it's too late. She's become old, and her time chance to live disappears (the freezing of the house). But it's the last part that is unclear to me. Either she dies and is lead to her final resting place... or is saved by the person she opened her heart to (the firefly) and decides to live again (the glowing lamppost). But I think that's for the person hearing the story to decide. So yeah, I'd say that wasn't just a five dollar rip-off kind of insightful. Pretty deep for a hippy, don't you think?
Secret Santa👤