That's Why Flamingos are Pink

When I was younger, we always spent Christmas day at my grandma's house. I have so many fond memories of the holidays there. There was this one year that the firemen had to go help a kid across the street. It gets pretty cold here in the Midwest in the winter time. Across the street from my grandma's home is a little, rundown park. I guess this child decided that it would be a good idea to stick his tongue to the swing set pole. Spoiler alert: his tongue froze to it. The irony? We were watching 24 hours of The Christmas Story.

Another year, my cousin made some sort of rum cake, but she used an entire bottle. I guess she's no Martha Stewart, and no one has let her forget it.

My grandma was flustered with my cousins and I at another Christmas. The same non-Martha Stewart cousin made us Jell-O shots to spice up the festivities. It turns out that the rum was actually an essential for this little dessert. She nailed it this time! We were all gathered around her trunk trying to be stealthy. Silly drunk people.

But the Christmas story that really haunts ME? Well, let me tell you! I was sitting in living room with my dad, and my Uncle Rick. I never really spoke to Rick. There was nothing wrong with our relationship, but we were just never close. We only ever really saw each other at family gatherings. What I do remember about him was he was very religious; a Christian. I didn't really grow up in a church setting. I guess you could say that I just didn't know how to communicate with him. Besides, he was in his fifties, or so, and I was an awkward little preteen at the time. I would really like to say that things have changed for me since then, but nope. I'm still awkward as ever! Hi! My name is Cassie!

Anyways, we're sitting in the living room. We're watching TV and chowing down on some delicious homemade food. Everyone is just enjoying themselves and their company. I don't quiet remember how this came about, but for some reason or another my dad asks a pop question: "Why are flamingos pink?"

I love and admire my dad. He's funny and intelligent. I was so excited because I knew the answer, and I wanted him to be impressed with me, so, of course, I blurted out the answer, "Semen!"

The room goes silent and I sit there in horror realizing what I just said. I was praying for a reverse button, or even one of those red-flashy things that wipe out your memory like in the movie Men In Black. Sigh! No such luck.

My uncle Rick with the straightest face and the most monotone voice simply says, "Salmon."

My dad acts like he's about to pee his pants from laughing so hard while I sit there and can physically feel my face burn into a chrisom red. Lucky for me, my Uncle Rick cracks a smile and then a giggle. That, my friends, is the family Christmas story that I will never live down.

Since then, my uncle Rick has passed on. May he rest in peace. My grandma is still in the same house, but our family has grown so much that we can longer fit. I guess the moral of this story is humans make mistakes, no one likes a show off, some things are never forgotten, it's okay to laugh at yourself, and flamingos are pink because they salmon. The end.

This just in. I've been informed that shrimp is the reason why flamingos are pink. See? Awkward!