When my family gathers, we collectively devolve into sadists.
Somewhere between my father’s need to leave an impression and my mother’s high standards came five offspring who, when united, produce an unrelenting flow of cynicism. We’re the champions of cruelty.
Naturally, my family is at its most destructive during the holiday season.
It was four days before Christmas when we dined at a local restaurant. At a nearby table sat a woman wearing a headband with festive felt antlers, which jingled merrily every time she took a bite of her Reuben sandwich.
Christmas was coming early this year.
Regardless of what reindeer do in minds of believers, that sort of thing doesn’t fly in my family. Our enjoyment of the holiday season has always been tongue-in-cheek: We’re ho-ho-ho-ing at you, not with you.
“Do you think she picks up NPR on those things?”
“It’s going through the uprights… and it’s good!”
“I’m debating between ordering the mozzarella sticks or the grilled reindeer.”
Eventually our well of wit dried up, and we changed the subject, noticing our inside joke was leaking to other tables. My father, however, hadn’t been paying attention and wasn’t sensitive to the situation.
“What’s with the antlers?” he asked.
Our table exploded into laughter. Antler Lady lowered her half-eaten Reuben to her plate, removed the antlers from her head, and slipped them into her purse.
She heard us.
“We finally did it,” I whispered. “We killed Christmas.”
At that very moment, the Polar Express derailed. Rudolph was gunned down by a Taliban rocket launcher. Santa Claus clutched his chest and collapsed thunderously to the ground, and, after the elves’ failed attempts at CPR, he wheezed his final words:
“You win, Erik.”
I couldn’t escape the nightmares. On Christmas Eve, gone were my visions of dancing sugarplums – in their place were Antler Lady’s sobbing children cowering in the corner, dodging shards of porcelain ornaments as they shattered on the wall behind them.
“Christmas is canceled!” she bellowed, blowtorching the artificial tree down to a steaming mound of green plastic.
“Why, Mommy, why?” squealed the children.
“Because Mommy wore these f**king antlers you gave her!”
The holiday spirit can only take so much mockery before we lose it forever. We can embrace the childish traditions, or we can dig Santa’s grave.
Happy holidays.
