A non-biographic Christmas story I found in my archives (Nomes, this one is for you). Although, if I remember correctly the neighbours really were giving me the shits that summer… hahaha.
Write a story and include the following;
Plastic Christmas tree
Cards I never wrote
All Wrapped Up
That time of year again. Those fake smiles and cute carols. Simply sickening. And if you don’t let your brain buy in the good will BS, you my dear are a Grinch. So what if I want to smoother my colleagues with wrapping paper? And that plastic Christmas tree in the office, well you know where my boss can firmly stick it. What’s up with Christmas cards, they are sooo yester year – so many trees, so much hate mail I never wrote.
Dear so and so,
Merry Christmas. I saw your photo – my hasn’t your arse grown! Is your husband still a sod and shagging the secretary and tormenting bunnies?
And all those blinding Christmas lights. My neighbour is a classic – enough electricity to supply a third world country for an entire year. Yet, they think my holiday spirit is bad. Apparently the kids like the lights, should I caution them not to touch? Nah, bugger it, where would the fun be in that. Give the kids something to really scream about. Learning not to play wolf is my gift them.
The season to be kind, Merry Christmas to me.