The Horror of Christmas

HorrorChristmas

Merry Christmas

Ah, Christmas. It’s a love-hate season for me. I love the season and all it stands for in general but I hate that no one else can see the Horror that is ingrained throughout.

“It’s the most wonderful time of the year…..”

Or so the song says anyway. How does it go on? Ah yes, I remember now:

“There’ll be scary ghost stories….”

And no they weren’t just talking about Dickens’ Christmas Carol, though in his own fashion Dickens was following the tradition of ghost stories at Christmas that originated in Europe.

Think of it, way, way, WAY back then. No TV (Oh the horrors). No radio even. They sat around fireplaces as icy winds drove through the cracks in the siding creating shivering whistles of ghosts in the other room. Winter is the scariest time of year. More darkness. Cabin fever.

Creepy right?

Well, how about another Christmas tradition from the mother-land over in Europe?

Over there, Good Saint Nick stops by to praise nice little tots with presents, but there his “helper” comes along as well.

His helper is named Krampus.

He is a demon.

His job? To beat naughty little tikes with a stick and cart them off to HELL/it’s lair. To be tortured/eaten.

No lie. True story. Seriously. Look it up.

Remember kiddies. There is no try. Be on the Nice list or face the razor sharp teeth of fire and brimstone.

MUHAHAHAHAHA. MUHAHAHAHA…..Ahem….sorry.

Got a little carried away there.

Where was I, um, oh yes Horror of Christmas. Right.

Speaking of Santa Clause; there is no better way you can put coal into my stocking than bring him up. So much horror even without his demonic European helper.

Good ole, Saint Nicholas.

The Catholic Saint from Turkey who gave anonymously. Wait, if he gave without anyone knowing….HOW DO WE KNOW ABOUT IT?

Anyway, his most famous story is that of the dowry of the three virgins. Saint Nick gave a poor father of three virgins three bags of gold to prevent them being sold into prostitution. I know some father right. When I’m strapped for cash, that’s the first thing I’d do too.

So really, Santa would probably only visit Las Vegas where that sort of thing is still legal.

This holiday season, you too should visit a house of sin.

I’m joking a little here about Santa and his history/gifts. Just tounge and cheek. Please no hate mail.

The real horror of Santa happens to us all, IF:

1- you truly believed way down deep in your heart of hearts

and

2- the moment you learned the truth about Santa (adults you know what I’m talking about).

Me personally, I must have cried for hours and hours after I learned. We’re talking sniveling, can’t breath, speaking incoherently. Yea, it was bad. One of the worst days of my life.

I know, I’m sheltered. Still, it’s a hard lick to take as a kid.

I remember thinking no big deal. They could be wrong. Adults don’t know everything. I mean, it could be. Right? It could be.

I was determined.

I went to the library.

Frantically, I flipped through encyclopedias.

Really did my research.

Want to know what I found out? Probably you don’t. Especially, If you still believe. If so, stop reading right now.

….

Still curious? Okay.

I learned that of all the Saints, Nickolas is one whose grave is mostly intact.

Yep, I said grave.

Today, his bones tell us that he was roughly 5 feet tall and had a broken nose.

Dead men don’t ride on sleighs. Unless he’s a zombie. Or vampire.

This season is lies. Horrible, horrible lies…..

……

It’s the most wonderful time…..OF THE YEAR!

(Told you it was love-hate. I’m bi-polar that way.)

Advertisements

~ by Charlie Edgar on December 22, 2011.

One Response to “The Horror of Christmas”

  1. […] beginning to think that lying is just part of every holiday. I’ve already proved lies are in Christmas, though I love the […]

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

 
%d bloggers like this: