It's a Disappointing Life

The Easter Bunny was the first to go. That whole idea didn't make much sense. Even to a 4 year old. Followed closely by the Tooth Fairy - even then we knew where the money came from and then Santa and a few years later the Virgin Birth and Jesus rising from the dead became too counter to actual experience to be real. God the Father faded away, followed by the dissipation of the hallucinogen aided Spirit of Everything. Now I'm knocking on the door to the Hall of Eternity and no one's answering. Maybe only a little of my own echo. Me? Depressed this Holiday Season? No way, man. Fa la fuckin la - la la la laaaa.

But having Santa wrenched out of my life was bad, worst junior year ever. Every year mom and I would ride the train into Philly to go Christmas shopping at the big department stores downtown - Gimbels, Wanamakers, Strawbridge and Clothier - the works. And then we'd have a fancy lunch somewhere. Just me and her.

The train had barely pulled from the station when she dropped the S Bomb on me. Apparently the parents weren't able to come up with a Robot Commando and mom felt it was time to disabuse me of the notion that Christmas would ever be fun again. Ever. You see, my brother and I had it all planned out - we were going to have awesome battles between The Great Garloo , a green wheeled monster with a punk hairdo that could bend over and pick up stuff in his claws, and Robot Commando, who could throw stuff and fire missiles to boot. Of course, come Christmas morn, the little fucker had his Great Garloo and I had a stupid robot tiger named Bengali who would walk 2 steps, roar and fall over. I kind of had my suspicions about Santa but finding out like this made if far worse. Not only was I not going to get everything I wanted in life I found out that sometimes I was going to get what I didn't want.

To top it off, I wasn't allowed to tell my brother because that would "ruin" the "magic" of the season. Why spoil Christmas for an innocent little boy? Why indeed? So I told him.

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