2004-12-21 9:43 p.m. "It's a Christmas miracle," said Aunt Edna. "The little baby likes the taste of human flesh!" It had looked so sickly and blue when we found it on the doorstep on Christmas Eve. Sitting it by the fire hadn't helped. Its blanket caught fire after two hours of sitting there on the hearth. A log popped and a spark caught on the fabric. The baby never cried. We were quite concerned. We had looked up and down the street for the mother, our heads poked out the door, our noses and cheeks red like roses. But drifts of snow pushed up on lawns by snowplows made it impossible to see more than two houses down in either direction. The baby didn't like milk and it didn't like crackers. We couldn't make our Christmas baby happy until Aunt Edna tickled its chin and lost the tip of her finger to a quick bite. She cooed while sticking her bleeding finger deep into a dishtowel with some ice. "Aww... we should have guessed, really," she said. And we all nodded. We had all seen news reports, human interest pieces, on the television that told us all about how the living dead in the area can sometimes have a hard time of it over the holiday season. After all... it's said that the holiday has something to do with the birth of Jesus Christ. One of their own. Christ also rose from the dead, but that's another holiday. On Easter, gift baskets are delivered by the military to the local living dead community as a sign of good will and religous observance. On Christmas, even though it's sorta living dead-related, the focus is on the living part. And all the living, like our family, stop walking the streets at night because we have parties to attend. Egg nog to drink. Presents to exchange. No one is out and about to be picked off and eaten, as per the natural order of things. Is it any wonder some young undead mother left us her baby in the hope it would be cared for? I could hardly concentrate on singing "Oh Tanenbaum" in the living room because I kept thinking of a sad mommy, black tears dripping down her cold face, hiding behind a snowman on a nearby lawn. Hoping for the best. Pinkies, I thought, hardly ever get used at all and so I had made up my mind to offer mine to the baby when Aunt Edna reminded me that our Uncle was still in the freezer down in the basement and there was plenty of him to go around. And so I made it my job to go down there daily to chop of a bit of Uncle Dave (died of a heart attack) and heat it up in the microwave for baby. I hope that one day, baby grows up to make a real difference in the world. A Christmas baby. We are all full of hope and wonder. I will be really disappointed if it just grows up to wander the living dead part of town with all the others, barely talking, content to let time drift by with no thoughts for the future. Really disappointed. |
1. today is nice 3. happy yesterdays 8. thanks for hosting 4. doing other things |
(Proof that I am the only one reading.) |