December 25

The Christmas Story

     Each year around the holidays, my parents have a party for a bunch of highly conservative middle-aged people. As per tradition, I have written a “Christmas story” for the occasion. Typically, my story includes each of the guests as different characters, but I decided to change it up this time around; in light of the recent provincial and federal elections, I thought it would be funny to make it into a “Politically Correct” Holiday Tale- and, in being surrounded by several anti-liberals, I was able to take such liberties without worry of offending our rather right-wing crowd. As for me, I’m Bi- in the political sense, anyway. It’s times like these that it’s fun to swing both ways. So here it is- a politically correct Christmas tale.

T’was the night before Solstice, and in the duplex

An interracial, gay couple was about to have- coffee

Their children were all snuggled in for the night

And plugged into the wall was their eco-night light

They had no decorations, tasteful or eccentric

For a holiday they found downright ethno-centric

Save Rachel Notley’s picture, which hung over the mantle

Surrounded by several a’ non-toxic candle

Their home roasted beans lined the grinder with care

They were locally sourced, from a trade that was fair

But while coffee was brewing, there rose a great quarrel

Over whether the beans said “organic” on the label

And while this was happening, they didn’t take note

Of a rather large stranger in red fuzzy coat

Tromping through their kale garden and into their place

Almost knocking their philosophy books off the case

Now they noticed the man, who was awfully plump

In a bellowing voice he said, “The name’s Donald Trump

I am here to bring Christmas to this empty house

Because Christmas is what America’s all about

Not Channukah, not Qurannukah, or whatever they say

All those left-ist communists, try as I may.

After all, I think Christmas means a little bit more,

What other holiday can you buy from a store?”

The couple, uncomfortable, looked at the floor.

What is it? He asked? Am I some kind of rogue?

Have my snide comments put me no longer in vogue?

The partners looked all ‘round their new- furnished space

Lit stylishly by a non-fossil-fuelled fireplace

And noted with pride: they had no Christmas tree

No garlands, mistletoe, nutcracker or wreath

That symbolized their conformity to a culture

That they felt caused minority groups to suffer

That is, until Trump, a flash of yellow hair

Had converted their home to his own Christmas lair

There were gingerbread cookies, surely GMOs

several sexist toys- revealed by their pink bows

There was even a turkey- Trump wasn’t just bluffing

I’ll bet, said one man, it’s not gluten-free stuffing!

The pair was quite skeptical, perhaps the reason

Was the intruder imposed their whole holiday season

In fact, he was so loud he woke up their kids

Paltrow and Blossom, well, right in they slid

Upon seeing the spread, both their faces lit up

They ran right to the eggnog, and each had a cup

Both their dads exclaimed, my daughter! My son!

Haven’t we drilled in their heads dairy’s poison?

Come on, Blossom, don’t you know what’s right?

And Paltrow, you’re intolerant to egg white!

Mr. Trump only laughed, deep, jolly, and evil

All the while, his true aim had been social upheaval

So he went on his way, his work here was done

Although being the president might have been fun

And the kids, with their toys, smiled the deep toothy smiles

That consumerism brings about once in a while

And their dads exchanged glances, and gave up the fuss

Saying “Not everyone likes Christmas, but it can still be for us.”

Copyright © 2014. All rights reserved.

Posted December 25, 2015 by Avery in category "Uncategorized


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