The real meaning of Christmas
I Love Christ (Mas)
Christmas isn’t always fun and games
About five years ago, I dated a Christian girl called Annie.
She wasn’t a particularly serious Christian. But, still, she believed in God, and I enjoyed discussing this with her.
All was going well in our relationship. So well in fact that she invited me to her parent’s house for Christmas and I was happy to go since my own family were on the other side of the world. Her parents lived in a tiny flat on a housing estate.
Her father answered the door.
‘Come in, come in’ he said. He looked like Ian McKellen if he wasn’t gay and liked wearing shell suits.
The family dog greeted me by propelling its head into my bollocks and licking passionately.
For a moment, it felt good, and I felt ashamed. I tried to push the dog away, but it was too strong. It mounted me and started humping my leg. The licking turned into nibbling and I was laughing uncontrollably. Annie finally pulled the dog off.
Her Dad pointed at the wet patch on my crotch and laughed.
I felt a little violated.
His wife was cooking dinner in the tiny kitchen.
It smelt more like a traditional old people’s home lunch than Christmas dinner.
‘Yum, what’s that?’ I said, leaning over the pan and copping a face full of the stinking mush steam.
‘This is babka’, my potential Mother-in-law said in her Polish accent.
Babka to me is that delicious chocolate chewy bread, and this wasn’t like that at all.
‘It’s potato babka’, my girlfriend explained.
‘This is the original babka’, her mother barked.
I expected her to stop so Annie could introduce us, but she kept beating her babka and ignoring me.
‘Mother, this is Frank.’
‘Hallo Frank’, she said, beating even harder.
We went back into the lounge, and Annie’s Dad had poured me some drink in a shot glass.
‘Na Zdorovie’, he said, knocking back his shot.
I looked at Annie. She shrugged her shoulders, so I drank.
It tasted like raccoon piss.
‘I see you are fans of Russell Brand’, I said, pointing at a picture of Jesus on the wall.
Nobody said anything.
The alcohol had kicked in already. The Raccoon piss was strong.
We sat down to lunch, and everyone bowed their heads for grace.
Her mother started chanting in Polish, and she seemed to keep going forever.
Usually, it would bother me that the food was going cold. In this case, I was happy to hold out for as long as possible before eating.
There was potato babka and a variety of dry, overcooked vegetables with no gravy or condiments.
I chewed on the main dish, which was very gluey potatoes flavoured with onion and a lot of salt. I washed it down with warm tap water and a dry boiled potato.
Do you believe in Jesus, Frank? the Mother asked me from out of nowhere.
Do you mean do I believe he existed, or do I believe he is here with us right now?
Her Mother continued eating, shaking her head and muttering without answering me.
I wondered if there was any more raccoon piss going spare since it seemed to be the only booze in the house.
There was a banging on the wall.
I stopped and listened. Annie’s Dad started laughing to himself, and her Mum slammed down her cutlery and muttered louder.
The banging got faster, and a woman started moaning.
It seemed that the neighbours were having a good Christmas fuck right on lunchtime.
Annie’s mother stood up and started knocking on the wall.
You fracking perverts, she shouted.
These fracking perverts fracking on the Lords birthday. Fracking Satan is coming.
Is Santa coming? I said. Annie giggled, and her Dad started laughing even louder.
The man next door joined in with the moans but more baritone. It was the sound of climax.
Annie’s dad went and got more raccoon piss and filled up three shot glasses now.
Na Zdorovie, he said, to the perverts.
We all drank.
For dessert, Annie’s Mum brought out the hardest tart I have ever known.
I almost broke my plate, cutting it with a blunt spoon. I offered it to the dog who was sitting, panting with his pink dick exposed. He sniffed the tart and fucked off.
A short time later we were waving goodbye and driving off.
Well, that was nice, I said. Annie nodded, smiling.
I’m gonna stop at the Seven-Eleven. I said.
My stomach was burning from the raccoon piss and the tart.
I needed Gaviscon.
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