Christmas Grit - A Christmas Story by Kurt Newton.

Snow.

Yup, there has to be snow.  Christmas just wouldn't be Christmas without it.

What else?

Music.

Yes, music.  Jingle jangle.  Happy music.  Soft, snow falling music.  Crooning, caroling, sleigh ride music.  Yesiree.  Gotta have it.

What else?

Food.

You got that right.  Eats.  Ginger this and ginger that.  Hot apple cider.  Cookies, pies, candy canes.  Yummy yum yum.

Okay, what else?

Presents.

Uh, huh.  Nice shiny presents.  Big colorful presents.  Ribbons and bows and stacks upon stacks of credit card charge after credit card charge, and overcharge, and can't pay this month's oil bill charge...or the light bill...or the car payment...or the you name it!  But there are presents.  Boy, are there presents.  "For the last time" presents.  And "Didn't I tell you not to spend all our fucking money" presents.  And, "Since when is it okay to mouth off to me when all you do is sit around and complain about how I never take you anywhere or buy you anything when you know damn well I work all day and we still don't have a pot to piss in you ungrateful bitch", presents.

Okay, what else?

Blood.

Now we're talking.  Bloodshot eyes.  Bloody lip.  Bloody knuckles.  The blood splatter on the window curtains from the double-barrel shotgun blasts.  Not to mention the blood trail leading from the Christmas tree out the back door, through the snow, to the backyard shed, red as cranberry sauce on a bed of mashed potatoes.

Okay, what else?

Santa Claus.

Of course.  The old fat bastard himself.  Ho ho ho work one day a year lazy-assed heart attack waiting to happen, filling everyone's heads with presents, nice shiny presents, big colorful blood-soaked presents.  Fucking Santa.

And since when does Fucking Santa come knocking on the front door demanding to be let in?

And since when does Fucking Santa drive a sleigh with red and blue flashing lights?
I mean, c'mon.  Really?  Fuck me.

Fucking Santa needs to learn a thing or two about patience.  Fucking Santa needs to learn to keep his fucking nose out of other people's fucking business.  Guess I'm going to have to teach that fat fucker a lesson!

Here I come you fucking overgrown elf.  Hope you like both barrels between those rosy fucking cheeks of yours...

Kurt's latest novella, THE BRAINPAN CONCERTO, is now available from Sideshow Press (http://sideshowpressonline.com/?page_id=4&category=1&product_id=73).