Sorry I’m so late with the story, but I got caught up in this year’s Christmas pandemonium. I thought it would be a great idea to give James a Poodle or an Appenzeller as a gift, but he had a different agenda.
“Let’s take the famiglia to Bali!” James had said to me. “Get away from the CVU shenanigans. Look, the baggage is ready!” He pointed to the kids, lined up like they were ready for the abattoir.
“Why Bali?” I asked, knowing tropical vacation spots are an oligopolistic industry.
“We could go to Lake Titicaca and take a funicular to the top of a volcano instead? I hear they have statues of Terpsichore and other debauchery,” he said with a wink.
“Egads! Did you take a Xanax? Smoke some Tetrahydrocannabinol? Have some viral thing you let fester?”
“Just yesterday you blew raspberries at that elf outside of Walmart and called him a ‘rapacious santaphillic fart-head bum fucker’ before yelling that we should all worship Krampus. You’re never this effervescent about Christmas.”
“Indubitably, I normally think it’s a suckass holiday, but I was hoping this year would be more fruitful. And I said we could bring the double whammies and the little dinglehopper! What’s the problem?”
“Why are you being so enigmatic? Are you talking about Ashlyn, Brooklyn, and Gavin like that? It seems like we should be snowbound for a Christmas family getaway with the inlaws. You know, spend our time decorating and drinking eggnog? We could dilute it with some Baileys.”
“The thing is,” James mumbled. “I really want an alligator.”
“An alligator. We have to go someplace warm to study it, to see if it’s the right fit for the famiglia.”
I didn’t even know what to say to that zinger.