I love getting sick around Christmas. It’s not so much that I enjoy missing out on the parties or shopping. I like being forced to slow down during the most hectic time of year. What I especially love are medicine induced stupors. It’s like sucking frozen eggnog through a straw while watching “A Charlie Brown Christmas”.
The other night, after maxing out on Nyquil, I dreamt Toys R Us employees in elf costumes were dancing in my head like ‘West Side Story’ Sharks, challenging the Jets from Best Buy. It looked like something was going down until Santa Claus in a 1950s police uniform arrested them all and threw them in his paddy wagon sleigh led by a team of musk ox. But instead of flying away, the musk ox encircled the elves and stood guard as a walrus pronounced judgement.
In order to get a good view of the proceedings, I climbed a Christmas tree all the way up to the star. I wondered why no one had done this before, until a point of the star poked me in the cheek. I forgot that stars were hot. I fell from the tree and landed on a camel, becoming the fourth wise man.
All I had for a gift was a can of string cheese, so I went shopping for a last minute gift at a Shell gas station.
All they had were chocolate bars and cans of Red Bull. The station attendant suggested I buy a gas can and fill it up since the price of gas was going up after Christmas. It seemed like a good investment, like an ancient RESP.
We arrived at the stable in our Vespas only to find the musk ox guarding the entrance. I bribed one of them with my string cheese only to discover that, to my dismay, the Best Buy guys had already given baby Jesus an iPod touch, a Blackberry Curve and an XBox.
I turned to leave and discovered that we were being given a standing ovation by my church. They were saying that this was the best Christmas pageant ever.
Tonight I’m going to see what happens when I take Benadryl.