My Christmas Story

This is my Christmas story. It’s very moving, so, if you are the emotional type, stop reading now.

Little Johnny came up to his mother and asked, “Mama, what am I going to get for Christmas?”

Mama said, “Not a damn thing. You’ve been a little shit all year long.”

Little Johnny whined, “But mmaaaa maaaaa, it’s Christmas.”

Mama said, “Okay! Since the real meaning of Christmas it the celebration of the Baby Jesus’ birthday I want you to go to your room and write the Baby Jesus a letter telling him how bad your have been all year and how you are going to change. Then, if He likes the letter you MIGHT get something for Christmas.”

He takes off to his room, sits at his desk with a pencil and paper and prints, “Dear Baby Jesus, I have been a bad boy all year long and I promise that for the next 6 months I’ll…”
He pauses and thinks, “That is an awfully long time. Maybe I had better not commit to such a long time. He wads the paper into a ball and flings it over his shoulder, and begins again.

“Dear Baby Jesus, I have been a bad boy all year, but I promise that for the next month I’ll…” He stops and thinks to himself, “This is December and we have Christmas parties at school and church and New Years Eve parties, too. I’d better not commit to that length of time, either.” So he wads that paper up and slings it over his shoulder, and starts again.

“Dear Baby Jesus, I have been a bad boy all year long, but I promise that for the next…” He rips the paper up and wads it into a ball thinking, “Ah, hell! He knows me better than that.”

He runs down to the Nativity scene and grabs the Big V (Mary) and runs back to his room, locks her in his desk drawer and writes, “Dear Baby Jesus, If you ever want to see your mother again…”

Sniff, sniff. It gets to me every year.