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PostPosted: Mon Dec 06, 2004 10:53 pm
 


If A Tree

"Willie!" she called out. "It's Christmas Eve and the folks are all coming tonight and you haven't got a tree yet. Would you kindly get off your lard ass and fetch one please?"

He put down his Soldier of Fortune(S.O.F.) magazine and capped his Royal Reserve(R.R.) bottle with a fairly steady hand. "Yes Dear." he replied, saluting. S.O.F. always got him like that. He picked up his modified Rambo knife(He had a flashlight duct taped to the handle.) and went out to the garage, making sure the survival kit was in his heavily modified(Chrome coil.) Aspen station wagon which he personally had designed the armour system(Coke signs over the back windows.) for. He connected the battery cable(Anti theft system.) and started it up, backing out from under the car port. As he turnrd toward the mall he checked his Under Seat Weapon Cache(U.S.W.C.)(Baseball bat.) to make sure the kids hadn't taken it again to play games with.

As he pulled onto the mall lot he noticed a large truck which was pulling a small camping trailer heading off the lot and onto the highway. "Damn!" he hollered over Ozzy's screaming about fairies wearing boots, "Missed the Christmas tree guy."

"Screw it." he thought uncapping his reserve bottle of Royal Reserve from the glove box. "I'll proceed with plan B. I'll cut my own damn tree. There's a folding saw in the survival kit. And the wench said I'd never need it." He shot a finger off in the general direction of home.

His original plan B, let's call it B1 was to drive out to a farm near where he was raised, where he knew there were some nice spruce trees growing. He was well on his way, drinking and singing along with all the old greats, Bee Gees, Manilow, etc. when he suddenly rrealised there was a great little plantation near every off ramp, courtesy of the Ministry of Transportation and Communications(M.T.C.) just waiting to be harvested. Plan C!

He stopped at the next interchange and climbed over the bank. Just as he was about to start sawing at a likely looking pine another car pulled up behind his. A figure exited it and started following his tracks. Thinking quickly he tossed his saw and pulled his wang out. He was noisily urinating when the party from the car came up on him. He could see a uniform behind the flashlight. R.C.M.P. he thought.

"Good evening constable." he smirked. "Just watering my horse."

"More like a pony if you ask me." she replied.

"By the time he had it tucked away, still running it was so small he never would have been able to find it with a magnifying glass."

"You haven't been drinking?" she asked.

"Oh no." He replied. "Im a family man. I'm just fetching a Christmas tree for my folks from a farmer I know down the road."

"I see. Well, drive carefully. And do up that zipper."

She was sitting there talking into her radio mic and eating a doughnut as he drove off."

Back to plan B.

The farm was right where he remembered it and even though he had pitched the folding saw back by the highway he still had the wire saw in the handle of his Rambo knife. Thank God for his Rambo knife. Without it and its trusty bottle opener who knows what would have become of him.

He snuck out in the field behind the barn. There it was just like he remembered, the reforested area he used to play in. The only thing was, he remembered nineteen sixty eight. It is now two thousand and four. Those suckers are eleven inches through and forty feet high. "That makes the top ten feet perfect." he thought as he began to climb. At thirty feet he took out his Super Mag Light for a quick peek. As if in answer a light came on in the farmhouse across the corner of the field, then another, then a yard light. "Boom."

"Twelve guage." he thought as he tumbled to the ground, breaking branches as he fell. Fortunately the snow was deep and he was unhurt; up and running for his car after giving his head a couple of good shakes. He could hear something starting up in the farm yard. It looked like an ancient Ford half ton coming out of the drive. He booted it for town.

By the time he got to the highway he had that old Dodge floored and thought he was home free. Then a set of headlights appeared in the mirror. There were red and blue lights above them. Another set joined the chase. Another, then yet a fourth.

He was so scared and excited he missed his turn and plowed over the rail at the interchange. Something hit his front bumber and banged onto the roof, lodging there. As he crossed the mall parking lot he quietly prayed that it wasn't some hitch hiker, homeward bound for Christmas. He'd read about something like that somewhere.

As he pulled into the car port and killed the lights she opened the door from the kitchen. The whole family poured out behind her.

"Awesome tree." muttered Cousin Biff. "Let's set the bugger up and get pissed."





PostPosted: Mon May 16, 2005 2:58 pm
 


that peom kicked ass!
its awsome man :!:


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PostPosted: Mon May 16, 2005 3:07 pm
 


Isn't it a bit late for reading christmas stories?


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PostPosted: Mon May 16, 2005 3:08 pm
 


Dudette deserves the necroposter medal.


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