I have an early Christmas present for everyone.
Are you ready? I’m so excited.
But first: a short story.
Every Fool down in Fooville loved Christmas, it’s true
But there was one grumpy fool who couldn’t make do
The witch who lived in a cave on Sneed Mountain
Couldn’t stand to see happiness, she’d rather drown in a fountain (I know, shut up)
Her heart was so cold, it was blacker than soot
Abandoning her daughters, she was never hard put
But alas, every Christmas, she’d try to engage
With the children she’d left off to simmer and rage
On this joyous year she had one mild success
Inviting herself to spend time with excess
“Oh, how I miss them.” The old hag would cry it
“My poor absent grandchildren, I just may riot.”
So the old bat came down from her cave for one day
Then two days, then three. She might visit till May
On the eve of eve’s Christmas the old bag arrived
Knocking on the door like some poor child deprived
Behind her, an army of one man approached
The father, so silent, judgmental, and poached
“Oh darling the house is in such disrepair
And however’d you manage to muck up your hair?”
The girl kissed her dad’s cheek both once and then twice
Ignoring her mother’s unwelcome advice
Mom questioned the tree and the stockings and all
The poor daughter wished she would just take a fall
Down the stairs or a well or perhaps off a cliff
But would mother fulfil her Christmas wish? As if
So the family suffered an onslaught of advice
Trying to stay silent for their words were not nice
She invaded the home like an army of rats
Picking apart all the thises and thats
Mom just wouldn’t stop all her squeaking and squawking
Finally the daughter had had enough of her talking
She slammed the door shut in the face of her family
And went out in search of some old fashioned therapy
She scoured the streets looking this way and left
For one measly morsel that won't leave her bereft
She walked and she walked down two roads and a street
Till she found some salvation with the caffeine elite
She ordered a drink and smiled at the clerk
And seductively asked what time he was off work
He smirked and he sneered and he said “pretty soon
Then I’ll be all yours.” I pretended to swoon
At the end of his shift, I waited out back
And I showed him a trick that made him go slack
I took a lead pipe from the end of a brick
And I hit him so hard, so fast, and so quick
He fell to the ground with a splatter of noise
And I wished him good will filled with peace and with joys
Then I walked away, with my coat tucked in tight
So no one could see the remains of our fight
The street was still filled with a person or two
None who took notice of the boy turning blue
A bum, and a strum, and a vague fashionista
But that is how Barry was no longer Barista
That was my surprise.
I killed Barry the Barista yesterday.
I’m so excited.
Can you tell?
Mom was just pissing me off so much that I walked out and ended up at the coffee shop and the next thing I knew, I was bashing his face in with a pipe. It was incredible. I have missed the sensation of blood on my hands. Scrubbing my nails raw. I finally feel like – despite my mother – I’m more in control.
And the best news is, this still doesn’t waver from my original plan of letting Daniel know that the tables have turned.
I took away his coffee boy.
It’s a definite start.
But after all that rhyming I’m exhausted so I’m going to go open the liquor cabinet and begin the Christmas Eve festivities with my family.
Have a happy holidays!
And, as always, dear readers,