For as long as I have been drinking coffee and eating breakfast at Ma's she has been propping up the same greasy green midget Christmas tree by the washroom door come the first of December. She throws a small string of mini lights on it and a little dazzle of tinsel. Merry Fucking Christmas.
As I was looking at the tree this morning it occurred to me that I have never heard anyone say anything bad about someone else's Christmas tree. Not to their face anyhow. So when Ma brought my steaming breakfast out to me I asked, "So Ma, you ever think of maybe getting a bigger Christmas tree?"
She looked at me like I had asked her if she ever wished she did not have such a retarded son. "You no like tradition. Always want new this, new that."
"There's nothing traditional about a three foot tall plastic Christmas tree."
"Where I get money for new tree? You think Ma richy bitch."
Ma is cheap. I bet some of the eggs I eat are laid by blind chickens in her unlit basement. I had to think of something. The three foot Christmas tree was driving me fucking crazy.
"How about if I pay you an extra quarter for my breakfast for the next year. That'll buy you the best tree on a Christmas tree lot."
Ma thought about it. There had to be a hitch. "What about decorations? New tree need new decoration. Cost money."
"Get your own decorations Ma. Do I look like Santa Claus or something?"