'Twas the night before Christmas (Or Hanukkah, or Kwanza, or whatever religious holiday your particular family unit celebrates this time of year by way of mass retail purchases)
And all through the house, not a creature was stirring, except Dad, who was stirring his third martini in a losing effort to remain in a holiday mood, as he attempted to assemble a toy for his 9 year old son, Bobby. It was a highly complex toy. A toy that Dad did not even begin to grasp the purpose of. A toy that cost more than Dad’s first car. A toy that was advertised relentlessly on TV with a tiny statement in an obscure corner of the TV screen that said “SOME ASSEMBLY REQUIRED”, which was like saying the Titanic had sustained “some water damage”, because this toy had more parts than the space shuttle. Speaking of space, Dad was now convinced that extraterrestrial life did indeed exist, because these instructions were obviously written by beings from another galaxy, and these beings insisted on Phillips screwdrivers, and Dad could not find his Phillips screwdrivers. In fact, he was wondering who “Phillips” was, and why he needed a different kind of screwdriver than everybody else. That was the festive holiday thought Dad was thinking as he took another belt of his martini and attempted to attach Part 3047-b to part 3047-c...using a steak knife.
But other than that, not a creature was stirring in the house, although Mom was definitely stirring OUT of the house. Mom was at the Toys ”R” Us store. In fact, this was the fifth Toys “R” Us store Mom had been to that night in her desperate quest to find the one thing their 5-year-old daughter, Suzy, wanted this holiday season. It was, of course, a Barbie doll, but not just ANY Barbie doll. It had to be the new model - Abdominals Barbie. The one that comes with her own little pink stomach muscle exercise device. It was the hottest Barbie doll of this holiday season. Every girl age 3 through 12 in all of North America HAD to have it, or her holiday season would be ruined. And so of course, the Mattel Corporation, which is run by evil trolls from Hell, had manufactured exactly eight units of this doll. The very last one of which was in this particular Toys “R” Us, which means the odds were against Mom, because on this same festive night thousands of other frantic parents had converged on this same store. Kind of like the flesh-eating zombies in the movie Night of the Living Dead, only less ethical. The store was a war zone. Mom had to fight her way into the doll aisle, where, wielding a Tonka Fire Truck like a club, she claimed her prize. Then, trailed by a screaming mob of rival parents, she raced from the store, leaped into her car and roared out of the parking lot, barely missing the Salvation Army person tending the kettle on the corner of the street.
She raced back to the house, burst through the front door, and staggered into the family room, where she found Dad. Actually, she found Dad’s feet. The rest of Dad was under the sofa. A strange gurgling sound was coming from down there. Dad, now on his fifth martini, was trying to strangle the dog, because he was convinced Bowser had eaten Part 8675-y. Just at that moment, out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, that Dad let go of the dog and he and Mom went to the window to see what was the matter. And what too their wondering eyes should appear, but Santa Claus, yelling the names of reindeer.
“Now Dasher! Now Dancer! Now Vixen! Now...Umm...Now...Dancer!”
“He already said Dancer,” observed Dad.
“You can’t expect him to remember them all,” said Mom.
“I think one of them is Pluto,” said Dad.
“Wasn’t Pluto the guy that was always fighting with Popeye?” said Mom.
“You’re thinking of Bluto.” replied Dad.
“Now...Umm...Now Flicka!” said Santa triumphantly.
“Flicka was a horse. Now that I DO know,” said Mom.
“Do you think the reindeer are ruining the lawn?” asked Dad.
“They’re going up on the roof.” said Mom.
“Like Hell they are, “ said Dad, who had just recently spent $875 on shingle repair.
But before he could yell at St. Nicholas to stop
Down the chimney the jolly elf came with a plop
He had a broad face and a round little belly
Which shook when he laughed like a bowl full of jelly
(Which was pretty gross)
“What’s so funny?” asked Dad.
“You two, “ said St. Nick. “Why are you getting so upset about toys? The holiday season isn’t about material possessions!”
“Do you have kids?” asked Mom.
”Well...no,” said Santa.
“Hah!” said Mom.
“But I am beloved by children the world over,” said Santa.
“Well, “ said Dad, “you won’t be beloved by our son if I can’t assemble this toy.”
“What seems to be the problem?” asked Santa, as he came over to look.
“I’m stuck on step 824,” said Dad.
“Who wrote these instructions?” asked Santa. “Martians?”
“Apparently,” said Dad.
“I used to be pretty good with tools, “ said Santa. “Hand me that steak knife.”
“Sure,” said Dad. “Care for a martini?”
“Heck yes,” said Santa.
And so he went to work. After a while, Mom and Dad, exhausted, went to bed leaving St. Nick in the family room. He said some pretty unsaintly words, but he eventually got Bobby’s toy assembled. Mind you, he spent so much time at the task that he was unable to visit the rest of the little boys and girls in North America, not to mention South America, Europe, Asia, and Africa. This particular household had a very happy Christmas morning indeed, when Suzy came down stairs and saw Abdominal Barbie, and Bobby came down stairs and saw his incredibly complex toy, which he broke in under four minutes - a new holiday record - but it was still a festive day. Especially when Mom and Dad told the fantastic story of their late-night visitor which, at first, the kids did not believe. In fact, even Mom and Dad were not 100% sure it had really happened until Dad got out the ladder, and one by one they climbed up to the roof, and there they saw it...as real as life...a holiday miracle...reindeer shit. (And $1,097.36 worth of shingle damage)