Ah, I can remember the days when rock and roll was a good recipe for seasickness, when rapping was what you did to presents…when a lawnmower was the loudest sound in the neighborhood…but my memory stretches back even futher than that!
I remember during the great depression when a lump of coal was worth more than a toy. I was seventeen then and I still believed in Santa. Don’t laugh!
Well, that Christmas, I made up my mind to get me one of those lumps of coal for Christmas…and seeing as how only the bad children got one, I reckoned I’d have to be naughty the day before so that I could get one of those in my sock. So the day before Christmas, I walked up to my neighbors’ daughter who was five I think…well, anyhow, she was small. I figured that the best way to be a little bad was to make her cry without actually hurting her so I walked up to her and said, “Your momma wears combat boots!”
She didn’t take too kindly to that and she kicked me right in the shin. While I was still recovering from the shock I found out the other thing I’ll never forget. Never insult someone when they can hear you from inside the house. So after I got home I found out that being naughty isn’t as easy as some people make it look. Also, you don’t get the reward for naughtiness in your stocking on Christmas. That was the year I stopped believing in Santa. Ya know why? When I opened my stocking the next morning, I found a little dolly. Ya, Santa must be getting senile. When I went next door to give the dolly to someone who could use it, I got a piece of coal thrown at me. When I woke up, she was playing with the dolly and said that “We can be friends now, if you wanna.”
We actually became friends after that, but no thanks to Santa.
Speaking of senility, what was the point of this story again?