As with every holiday, there are some events that have themselves gone on to become traditions. Things that, if they ceased to exist, would devastate the hearts of families around the globe. These traditions include:
* The lighting of the Christmas tree at Rockefeller Center
* The Nutcracker being performed to the delight of children of all ages
* Taking pictures with Santa
* Staring patiently at a motionless Nativity scene
Of course, no holiday would be complete without the elaborate Christmas party here at Calahan Manor. Millions of people wishing they were invited, scrambling for Paparazzi pics or insightful Tweets from staff, anything to feel that much closer to all of the glamor and sophistication that is a Calahan Family Christmas.
Perhaps it is the season and the spirit of giving. Perhaps it is the eight seasoned spirits I consumed moments ago. Either way, I am feeling generous. How generous, you ask? Generous enough to allow you, a lowly reader, into the Calahan Family Christmas extravaganza.
First, I’d like to welcome you… Oh, please don’t touch anything. I’d like to welcome you to… No, there’s no candy in there, that’s an urn. Anyhow, I’d like to welcome you to Calahan Manor. I encourage you to mingle with the other guests. You’ll meet many notable Calahans, a few of the lesser Calahans and even Merle, the mediocre Calahan. Let me introduce you around, won’t you?
This is my Uncle Ronnie.
Please, call me Ron. It sure is nice to meet you. Ain’t this the swankiest party you ever seen? — Between you and me, I offered to throw the party at my place, but Mike won’t have none of it. I think he’s, ya know, intimidated by my vast fortune. You know how it is. But he always tell me to bring something special. “Bring something special, Ron” he tells me. “It ain’t Christmas without some of your gourmet food.” So, I bring something special. See that over there on the table? — Nope, it’s next to the prime rib. — That bucket of KFC. That’s right! Boy, you sure are sharp. Yeah, I brought that. Are you familiar with KFC? — You don’t eat there much? — Well, let me tell you that there bucket of fried chicken is very special. I had to order it in advance. Five months in advance to be exact. They only make 50 of these special buckets a year, but I always get one. It’s 100% organic chicken, made with free range spices and cooked in a grass-fed oven. Heck, even the bucket itself is hand-woven paper from Africa and painted by homeless veterans. You be sure to have a piece, now.
This is Sharon, she’s my second cousin. This is Sharon’s first year at the nearby Arts College. She’s majoring in Womens Studies.
Yes, I’m “majoring” in women. Because women are such a commodity in this phallic-driven society that they must be studied like some new breed of cow. Oh, but let’s not dwell on such frivolous things like, oh, reality and the subjugation of women. No, let’s focus on the Christian adoption of the Winter Solstice as a holiday for their male deity. Because the world needs to celebrate another male, doesn’t it? Oh, but, wait. We have February to celebrate all accomplishments by all women. ‘Here you go, women of the world! We bequeath you the shortest month of the year to allow you the touting of your achievements! Oh, but come March, it’s back in the kitchen with you or popping out babies or posing silently in a bikini for us to salivate over like Pavlovian dogs.’ Oh, gosh, I’m sorry. Is my honesty and holding up a mirror to society taking the fun out of Christmas? Let’s instead celebrate the crass commercialism of presents and trees and silver and gold. And red. Of course, we can celebrate red during Christmas. But who celebrates the beauty of my menstrual cycle? Who dances round my…?
Okay. Moving on. Over here we have my Great Uncle Albert. Uncle Albert refuses to speak one word, until there is no longer a beer-drinking, liberal Muslim in the White House. Having a good time, Uncle Albert?
You’ve got to admire Uncle Albert’s tenacity. Who else is here? Oh, this is my cousin Johnny and his two children… who have names of some kind.
My wife and I met at a Christmas party a lot like this one just last year. I thought she was the prettiest thing I’d ever seen. We had a lot of egg nog, that night. The real stuff, not those cartons you get at the grocery store. Anyway, I woke up the next morning with a hangover, a wife and two kids calling me daddy. Two days later, my wife went out for eggs and we haven’t seen her since. So, it’s just the three of us. Oh, I love these two, the girl and the other one here. It’s just that… Just don’t drink the egg nog. That’s all I’m saying.
Sorry to interrupt you, Johnny, but it seems Cousin Martin has something to say.
Hello to all of you good people. I just wanted to say that I know things have been tight for me for some time and that my gambling is, well, it is out of control. I know that, now. I do. The thing is, I got a lead on a pony running in the 4th race at Belmont. Oh, she is guaranteed to win. Guaranteed! Well, the way I see it, if I can put down $50-60K on Clayfoot to win, then I could break even on all my debts with the Triad. Just wipe ’em clean. Then, I walk away and no more gambling. No more! So, anyhoo, I guess what I’m saying is if any of you good people could loan me $100,000 — Oh, yeah. You’re right. I did say $50K, didn’t I? If some of you could, you know, lend me the money, just for a little while, just until the 4th race at Belmont, I sure would appreciate it. And so would Mr. Lee. He’s already taken one of my thumbs and I’d like to keep the other one if, for no other reason, I can eat five olives off of my hand.
Now, I was going to introduce you to my sister-in-law, the Princess, but I was wondering if you could do me a small favor first. Any chance you could hold this tray? Now, I’m going to put some hors d’oeuvres on there. Perfect! Now, if you don’t mind carrying this around to the guests… That’s so kind of you. Oh, by the way, after the party has ended, Cousin Martin has arranged for a few of his friends from the Chinese Triad to, well, escort you abroad to… Well, never mind. Have a wonderful party.
Oh, and Merry Christmas!