The Shitty Table

Bah humbug, it's that time of year, when we spend more than we can afford and get pissed on cheap beer. Although I don't doubt it is merry for some, I myself find Christmas all too glum. I am the Grinch with a beating heart, a character at the table who plays their part.

I make the stockings which are carefully placed, while inside the chocolate coins have gone array. I wrap the presents, that will be torn in the morning, why am I up before the sun is even dawning? I hate Christmas, but I still care, to see my son's smile with a new flare.

He smiles, giggles and screams, to the point where he goes bright red in his cheeks. Thank god mum invited us for dinner I really can't be bothered to cook, but yet I can't help myself I'm in the kitchen taking a look.

I hate Christmas, it's something I dread. All that social interaction leaves me feeling dead. With all the music, the lights, and the smells, it is safe to say I get rather overwhelmed. But look at my son, how happy he is, to hear this old house full of new cheers. I'm getting really hungry and so is he, how long mum, how long will it be?

Ah Finally!

The roasties are done, and the gravy is made, but this year there is no table to be laid. "The table died so we are making do, don't worry though I'm getting another one brand new."

Huddled on the sofa with food in excess, halfway through eating my brother confessed "I hated that fucking table," I admit, it wasn't the best, but my god in that moment was it a test, to keep the food in my mouth shut as I chuckled my way through, hoping not to spit it out laughing with every chew.

He continues to say "you'd be eating your food not knowing if the chair was going to give away, I'm glad that shitty table has gone anyway." With a sip of my drink, I can finally breathe, bloody hell I thought my soul might leave. I wasn't expecting it, how it was said, how he really really wanted that table fucking dead.

Even when I'm writing this now, I have a cheeky smile, one I haven't had for a while. Aha, I love Christmas, this is the reason, why I still make the effort for every dreaded season. My son is happy, my stomach is content, and my brother finds it a great time to vent. He's really a comedian and says it how it is, he doesn't mean to be funny that's just him.

That's what it's all about our family Christmas fable, having a good old laugh about some old shitty table.

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