18th
A Christmas Tale, but crapper - Part 4
Check out the entire Christmas Tale by clicking here!
Thoughts of homicide aside (for the moment), we had a dilemma. A little over a week to Christmas and still no tree. The way things were going, it wasn’t looking like we would be having a proper Crimbo at all. FOOK!
Since we were already in Swords, we figured we’d try the last bastion of shopping, Airside Retail Park! Atlantic homecare or B & Q were in for some unexpected Christmas revenue, the lucky bastards. If we could pair these 2 DIY giants off against each other, we could make a killing (in a cost saving sense, as opposed to my earlier wish). My great plans were shot to shit, when it was pointed out that I would be viewed as a less than valued customer, considering my only previous purchase was a piece of plastic for a dishwasher. Reluctantly I agreed with my girlfriend’s rationale, while secretly adding up the costs of 2 more high velocity rounds, in order to vanquish both shops. And if you were to ask how you can destroy a shop with a single bullet, my response would be “Stop asking tough questions” and just enjoy my drivel.
B & Q had a less than impressive offering of plastic greenery. In fact, they looked so odd that I think they had merely removed the mutant plants from the gardening section and placed them in the Christmas tree section. “To hell or to Atlantic Homecare” I declared, putting my knowledge of the plantations of Ireland to good use, by swiftly bastardising the quote. Oh yes, Atlantic was where it was at. Lucky for me, “it” was artificial Christmas trees.
Seeing the one we wanted, I promptly splashed the cash, blowing my nose with a €50 to show money wasn’t a thang. Don’t think the lady was impressed when I handed her the oozed up note as part of the payment. Mink coat back on, and we were off to the car, booty in hand. Quickly reminded I had left the tree in the shop, I raced back to wrestle it to the car (ho ho ho, what a shit joke)!
It was only then that we realised that the tree we had bought came with its own decorations. High 5’s and jigs over, we hit a snag when the tree wouldn’t fit in the car. At this I fell to my knees, hands to the sky, “JESUS WHY DO YOU MOCK ME”, I screamed through teary eyes. Overreaction behind me, I got an idea (thanks Jesus). All the baubles were located within the Christmas tree box in their own compartment at the top. If I could remove them and partially crush the box, it would fit. I’ll summarise what happened next by posing the following question. “Have you ever seen 60 baubells loose on a car floor?” A week ago, I would, like you, have said No, but not anymore. Christ, the car looked like something out of Fun House, but without Pat Sharp, or his mullet. Keeping the analogy going, however, my zippy 1.2 litre Opel Corsa did resemble something out of the Fun House Grand Prix.
Not being arsed to bother picking them up, we made a beeline for Balbriggan like 2 desperados, who had finally escaped from their Swords (mis)adventure. On the trip home, the decision was made that we would use the decorations that we had bought the year previously, thus saving us from picking up the baubles off the car floor. I find that never knowing when a rogue Christmas decoration is going to lodge itself under one of the car pedals adds a certain something to my driving. The hope is that they will all eventually get crushed under our feet, and just like the plastic bags I continue to purchase at a rate of knots, will eventually degrade.
Artificial tree in place, I wasn’t even remotely shocked to realise that we had hit another problem. There was a shortfall in the cable length. No problemo, I said, donning a sombrero and doing my best Speedy Gonzales pose. “Arriba! Arriba! Ándale! Ándale!” as I raced to get the extension lead from the storeroom. Considering this lead had 4 sockets, and we only needed 3, I figured we were sorted. WRONG. One of the great mysteries of life is why some plugs are nice and small, as plugs should be, whereas other ones take on some ridiculous shapes, and I’ve seen some fucking ridiculous ones in my short time on earth. Because of this, yet another extension lead was needed.
Below is an artist’s impression of how we will have to spend Christmas 2008 navigating through the wires in the front room.
And with that sight, here ended the heartwarming Christmas tale. You had better of enjoyed reading it, cause I hated writing it!
Happy Christmas you miscreants.
