Disclaimer: This is a
true story and I decided a year ago it would be my next Christmas blog. It should not in any way be seen as a social
commentary about more serious issues currently in the news. However, if you are offended, please do not
feel obligated to buy me a Christmas present this year, and we will call it “even”.
Christmas is coming
The goose is getting
fat
It’s
that special time of year again. Gather ‘round, children. And this year, I do
mean all you adult-children (better send the youngin’s into the other room when
you read this one). Your Uncle Don has another heartwarming Christmas tale from
days of yore, that will make the season bright.
It’s a touching, a very touching, story indeed.
Some
years ago, when your Uncle Don was younger and thinner, he got himself an
invitation to a combination surprise birthday/Christmas party for his coworker
John. What could be better than that,
children? Two parties in one. A chance to celebrate John’s birthday along with
the Baby Jesus’ at the same time.
And
this was going to be a big shindig, children, as a group of John’s coworkers
were invited, as well as friends from his neighborhood. Now John lived many
miles north of the office, so this party would be a coming together of the prosperous
yuppies of the south and the well-to-do preppies of the north.
Uncle
Don and his wife made the hour-long trek over the interstate and through the
highway to John’s house on a cold Saturday night. The scene was so Christmassy, children, with the
snow on the ground reflecting the festive lights on the house. A large picture
window was lit up and decorated with a beautiful garland.
There
were over 40 people in attendance, fairly evenly split between work folk and
neighbors. We all gathered together in
the living room to surprise John, sing “Happy Birthday”, and shower him with
gifts and well-wishes. Your Uncle Don
even cracked a couple funny jokes, as he is known to do. The party had gotten off to a wonderful
start, children, just a wonderful start.
Then
something disturbing happened, children.
After the birthday portion of the party ended. People filled their
plates with goodies and broke off into numerous groups to share the joyfulness
of the seaon. But there was segregation.
And you know segregation is a bad, bad thing, especially at Christmastime. The
northern yuppies were in their groups and the southern yuppies were clustered
in theirs. There was lots of
Kris-Kring-a-ling, but no intermingling, going on, children.
Then
a mericle happened children, another one of Uncle Don’s Christmas mericles.
Uncle Don and his wife were in a group of people enjoying the Christmas
merriment, when Uncle Don looked down at his plate and saw it was empty! Fortunately, Uncle Don was standing in the
kitchen and there were plenty of free appetizers nearby, so he excused himself
from the conversation and went to reload.
Uncle
Don had almost reached the food, when Chad, one of the neighbors (the
northerners), made a reference to a joke Uncle Don had told earlier and
motioned for him to join their conversation!
The south would now be socializing with the north. It was a great
Christmas moment, children, not unlike something you would see in a Hallmark
special.
Chad
was over in a far corner of the kitchen, near the sink. To Chad’s left was his
wife Marla and to his right was another neighbor, Cindy, who was short, thin
and reasonably attractive. Uncle Don
greeted everyone and we began a pleasant holiday conversation. We was coming
together children, we was coming together.
Chad
and Uncle Don were doing all the laughing and talking,
the ladies were just listening. That is why Uncle Don didn’t notice Cindy moving
closer to his left side. And then while Chad was talking, Cindy slyly reached behind
Uncle Don and squeezed his left buttock. Oh my, children! I Uncle Don had
received a big Christmas goose, but it wasn’t cooked and sitting on the dinner
table. A
Your
Uncle Don thought maybe he had just imagined the goose or, perhaps it was a
mistake. He looked down at Cindy and was greeted with a wry, saucy smile. Although she had a drink in her left hand, her
eyes were crystal clear. No, there definitely
was a gooser in the kitchen.
At
that moment it was important for Uncle Don to respond quickly and calmly to
this wild goose or the party and even Christmas itself was in jeopardy. Uncle Don did not smile back at her, even politely.
Any hint of encouragement and she may have started dry-humping his leg like a
horny Chihuahua right there in front of everyone. Uncle Don didn’t know if he
was dealing with a Christmas nymph or a Christmas nympho. But he also didn’t
want to appear shocked or repulsed. If
that was the response Cindy desired, the goose could turn into a gaggle.
Instead,
Uncle Don gave her his best “James Bond” stare. A
confident expression, showing little emotion, as if this was no big deal
because his buns got squeezed all the time. Most
importantly, Uncle Don needed to throw her off track and think about her next
move because there was another potential problem.
Uncle
Don’s wife was standing only about 15 feet away, directly behind him. He slowly and cautiously looked over his left
shoulder. His wife was facing the
opposite direction so she was oblivious to the goose. Everything in that group of people looked
fine. It appeared no one had seen it or alerted her by saying: “That cute chick
just grabbed Don’s @$$, you better get over there.” All was still calm, all was
still bright.
This
was most fortunate. If Uncle Don’s wife would had caught the goose, there could
have been a bah-humbug hubbub. His wife often moved around 50-pound bags of
material on her job. It would not have
been difficult for her to hoist up that little chicky-mama, carry her to the
front room, and toss her right through that big ‘ol picture window.
Now
that would have been a spectacular Christmas lighting display, children. With
glass shattering everywhere, shimmering in the many colors of the holiday
lights. Poor Cindy would have landed face-down in the yard creating an awesome
snow angel, well maybe it would have been more like snow fallen-angel.
It
would have been a spectacular end to this Christmas party, children, and people
would have talked about it for years. And yeah, it would have kinda “hot”. But Uncle
Don did not want anything like that to happen to embarrass his friend John and
ruin his party. Besides, that picture window looked very expensive and Uncle
Don’s December budget was already tighter than his backside, being Christmas
and all. Because of this disastrous possibility,
Uncle Don needed to ensure there were no more geese in that kitchen.
Like
a Civil War General who was under attack, Uncle Don moved swiftly to guard his
flanks, specifically his left flank, which had been exposed and gotten pinched.
He moved to his right and turned slightly so his buns were now temporarily out
of reach. He had successfully employed
his rear guard. The conversation
continued, but it is extremely difficult to concentrate when your butt can get
grabbed at any moment.
Uncle
Don waited for a break, said his goodbyes (got the same sassy look from Cindy),
loaded up his plate, and returned to his prior group chit-chat. No one was the
wiser. However, like a good General, Uncle Don kept his rear-guard employed, backside
always pointed at the wall, for the rest of the evening. And he made sure he knew where the wild
gooser was at all times.
Now
Uncle Don knows what some of you children are thinkin’ and you are being naughty.
Yes, you are having naughty, naughty thoughts. And let me remind you that Santa
does reward naughty children. You are
thinkin’ that Uncle Don must have been a flirtin’ with that woman to attract
that Christmas goose. I can assure you
that there was no flirtin’, none. Because Cindy didn’t say anything. She was
the kind of women who talked with her hands, whose actions spoke louder than
any words could. Maybe it was just Uncle Don’s magnetic personality that attracted
her hand to his cheek, but there was no flirtin’, none.
Monday
morning John stopped by Uncle Don’s office and
asked if he had a good time at the party.
“It
was great”, he said. But Uncle Don couldn’t
hide the big smirk on his face.
“What?”
demanded John.
He
motioned for John to come closer and said quietly, “Your neighbor Cindy pinched
my butt”.
John
was embarrassed and began to profusely apologize. Uncle Don assured him everything was
fine. John said she had also goosed one
of his neighbors. “I think she was drunk”, he said. He then asked Uncle Don if he had told his
wife.
Sometimes
coworkers ask you the dumbest questions ever, children. Just stupid ones. What was Uncle Don supposed to say? “Hey, you
know that short, cute brunette at the party? Well, she grabbed my @$$.” It was already a long, cold, ride back, why
make it any longer or colder. I also have a big picture window at my house and –
well, why risk it?
I
didn’t challenge John’s assumption about whether Cindy was drunk. I still thought she knew exactly what she was
doing. A couple years later, John and Uncle
Don were reminiscing about that party and he told Uncle Don that Cindy had recently
divorced. That didn’t surprise Uncle Don
a bit, children. A woman with hands that
active is sure to feel someone or something that elicits a response. No doubt she had been reaching around some
guy, grabbing his butt cheeks with both hands, while enthusiastically pulling
him towards her – if you get my drift, children. And I so much hope you do, because Uncle Don
doesn’t want to have to draw you a picture.
Isn’t
that the most touching Christmas story you have ever heard, children? I know I was touched by it. Really, really, touched by it. It is literally
a touching tale, because she was touching, my tail.
So
I would suggest this Christmas, and especially at all work functions and
holiday parties, that you keep your hands to yourself and ask permission before
taking any actions under that mistletoe.
What happens under the mistletoe, stays under the mistletoe, unless your
dorky friend takes a pic and posts it.
Then it goes everywhere. When it
comes to Christmas, children, the goose belongs roasted on the table, and not
served on the buns.
