15th
A Christmas Tale, but crapper - Part 3
Check out the entire Christmas Tale by clicking here!
Decision made, and the Christmas tree for 2008 was going to be as artificial as yours truly, well almost! To the batmobile, Robin, I screamed at my rather bemused girlfriend. Apologies made for my deafening scream, we were off to Swords. ROAD TRIP.
After 15 miles of reading what people had scrawled on the back of an off-white van that was directly ahead of us, I hoped that more exciting road trips lay ahead.
Fighting my way through the greater unwashed, we came to a shop selling trees, where we were spoiled for choice, with 2 options. 7 ft tree with white in it versus 7 ft tree without white in it? A consumer paradise, I think you’ll agree. Surprisingly, the tree with white in it was €5 more than the other. Apparently white as a colour is more expensive.
Looking at the white tipped version, the girlfriend mentioned that this looked too “artificial”, an interesting comment considering we are deciding between chunks of plastic, but I digress.
Reverse-racism confirmed, we went for the all green tree. With this, a slip of a girl emerged from the storeroom, fully consumed by the cardboard box she was half-carrying / half-sliding towards me. Racing to meet her half-way, I did the chivalrous thing, taking the box off her. Any visions I had of my manliness were quickly quashed as my box handling skills (INNUENDO) made her look like a pro (INYOURENDO). “I’m off to the fucking car” I shouted in a sweaty rage, to no-one in particular, scurrying out of the shop a broken man.
Calming down on the car ride home, I figured I’d show my DIY skills by putting up the tree that night. Box open, glasses cleaned, and re-cleaned (in disbelief), I noticed that the tree had a slightly more Caucasian look than it had in the shop. “FUCK THOSE MOTHERFUCKERS” I bellowed, putting 2 and 2 together and getting a migraine to rival nothing I’d ever had before.
Out with the receipt, I rang the shop. Upon explaining the situation I was greeted with “Oh”. Not wishing to have a coronary there and then, I took this as an apology. “What time are you open until during the week” I fumed? “We’re open until 9 o-clock, I think”. Bowled over by this staffers in-depth knowledge of her employers opening hours, I started into a high pitched squeal, mercifully ended when my long-suffering girlfriend managed to calm me down, earning her non-existent wage for the billionth time.
In protest I had originally decided not to waste my sellotape on resealing the box, as this was all the shops fault. Once I started to try to get the box out to the car, however, I was quickly reminded as to how much I had struggled with the box fully intact, the words “FUCKING SELLOTAPE NOW” passing my lips quicker than you can say overreaction.
Calming down on the car ride to the shop (I think I must have been a dog in a previous life), I struggled with the box once again, before dumping it down in front of the assistant. Telling one of the employees my situation, I was told that this was the second time that this has happened, which only angered me more. A man on a mission, I brushed this aside, forgetting the small talk, before pointing to the tree I wanted. “Oh, we’re out of those”. It is at this exact moment that I wished that Christmas 2008 was already over, along with my time on the planet. Refund in hand, my first thought was to buy an automatic weapon, along with some high velocity rounds for good measure. “There’ll be time for that later”, the inner voices said. Best to get another tree first.
Now folks, I know that you are probably bleeding from the eyes at this stage, but there is more to this story. Lucky is not the word!
