Listen, I know I can be a jerk sometimes, but there was absolutely no reason that the Ghost of Christmas Past had to bother me in the middle of the night, on Christmas Eve no less, just to bring up that time that I sharted.
There I was, casually opening my neighbors’ mail to see if anyone had sent them any cash, or a family photo that I could put on my fridge to make it look like I had friends. Then there was a sudden flash and BOOM! There he was—The Ghost of Christmas Past, standing in my living room looking real smug and obnoxious.
Then this ghastly apparition has the nerve to say to me “I’ve had enough of your mean-spirited nature. It’s time to pay the piper,” I didn’t even have time for a good one-liner about his receding hairline before he whisked me back to a bunch of memories where I screwed some dumb shit up.
We watched as I stole cash out of the tip jar at my favorite coffee shop, then there was the time I stole my dad’s heart medication because I thought it might get me high, and when I ditched my daughter’s ballet recital so I could stay home to binge drink and watch “Judge Judy.” It was fucking cold that night, I don’t get what the big deal is.
The third memory was last Christmas Eve. I was just at home alone, taking Nyquil shots and minding my own business. Although, I did have… a little accident.
“Sorry, what are we doing here?” I asked.
“I thought you should know,” the Ghost said.
Then the ghost and I peered through the window of my apartment as I sat there alone. And yeah, I let out a little fart that turned out to be a little more than expected. We’ve all done it. It’s not even that big of a deal.
“I watched you let out a fart and accidentally shit yourself, you scumbag. It smelled rotten, like something died inside of you three months earlier,” said the ghoulish figure.
“Seriously?” I said. “I didn’t even do anything wrong that night. Why would you bring that up?”
“I honestly can’t believe you did that. You acted like everything was fine after, too. You’re a grown man with kids. A mortgage and a wife. Get your shit together, dude. What are you doing? Most logical people would get up and at least go wipe, personally I would have taken a quick shower. But you just sat there, in your own filth just ruining your ‘favorite’ chair.”
“I had two Arby’s Beef ‘N Cheddars that day, okay?!” I said. “There’s so many other places you could have brought me! What about the Christmas Eve when I left a puppy on the side of the road? Or the one when I threw my cigarette butt directly into that orphanage, setting it on fire?”
“I should be the least scary thing haunting you after the shart,” the Ghost of Christmas past said. He disappeared in another flash and BANG! I was left alone with my own thoughts.
I guess I better change. In a few days, maybe for New Year’s or even next year.