The “Real” Twelve Days of Christmas
The “Real” Twelve Days of Christmas
By Anna Hessel
I figured we could all use some humor this holiday season; this Christmas will be a bit different. We had to rearrange our living room to accommodate the tree and social distancing. Sort of a pandemic feng-shui, you might say.
The First Day
On the first day of Christmas, my true love gave to me, a partridge in a pear tree… A most unusual gift but I do love fruit and the little birdie is pretty cute, too; I am logging onto the Food Network Kitchen site for a tasty pear tart recipe. Perhaps birdseed included in the lovely present would have made sense…
The Second Day
On the second day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…two turtle doves and another partridge in a pear tree. Perhaps my dear true love did not realize that turtle doves and partridges don’t get along, who knew? And still I have received no birdseed from my dear one. The partridges pecked at my fingers when I decided to choose a pear for lunch – maybe they are possessive of the pears because they lack birdseed.
The Third Day
On the third day of Christmas, my true love gave to me…three French hens, two more turtle doves, and yet another partridge in a pear tree… Apparently, my dearest true love is most fond of fowl. Still no damn birdseed, and apparently French hens do not care for pears…
The Fourth Day
On the fourth day of Christmas, my “true” love gave to me…four rather noisy calling birds, another three of those blasted French hens, two more turtle doves, and still another of those ridiculous fruit-bearing trees containing another partridge; my apartment resembles the aviary house at the zoo. Birdseed, where the hell is the birdseed?
The Fifth Day
On the fifth day of Christmas, my true “love” finally bought some damn jewelry, five lovely golden rings, none of which even remotely resembles an engagement ring in any way, all five of which turned my fingers green; of course, included with the cheap mass merchandiser rings, my alleged true love included another pear tree with of course an additional partridge, another couple of the turtle doves, thrice more of the ill-mannered hens and, of course, four of the calling birds, who make me want to call the local bird refuge. I injured my ankle ducking the flying menagerie when I returned home from Walmart, where I exchanged the five rings for birdseed…
The Sixth Day
On the sixth day of Christmas, my true like gave to me…even more freaking birds, six geese a-laying eggs in every square inch of my living room; I would love to give my true “love” a goose egg. As if I don’t have enough of them, four more calling birds, three more French hens, two more turtle doves, and even another big tall, gangly a$$, pear tree with, yep, you guessed it, a partridge. I have invited the local bird watchers society to tea – perhaps they would like to each choose a bird to take home, gratis….
The Seventh Day
On the seventh day of Christmas, my true “friend” gave to me…what else, more feathered friends, not a lovely gift basket containing a bath bomb and fragranced lotion, like the ones mocking me as I stand in line buying more birdseed at Walmart; nope this time, in addition to another blasted tree, more hens, calling birds, doves, and one more partridge, I am the “blessed” recipient of seven swans that are a-swimming in my bathtub – perhaps this is why I have yet to receive a moisturizing bath bomb. Certainly an extra-strength lavender air freshener, or even a pumpkin spice room spray, would be most welcome in here…
The Eighth Day
On the eighth day of Christmas, my true acquaintance gave to me…the entire gaggle of birds, another tree, and eight much needed maids to clean the bird droppings and smashed pears from my carpet. But noooo, these alleged maids came to milk the eight adorable goats eating up my lawn; has my true “love” never heard of Hickory Farms? A mini summer sausage and a cheddar cheese wheel would be lovely with all these pears and did I mention, goose is on the menu this Christmas? I wonder, can French hens be served with a pear stuffing and creme fraiche glaze?
The Ninth Day
On the ninth day of Christmas, that guy gave to me…on top of the nine ladies disco dancing in my kitchen, eight more useless maids, more golden rings to exchange for birdseed, more assorted birds, and another freaking tree…..perhaps I shall break up with my true “love”…
The Tenth Day
On the tenth day of Christmas, my frenemy gave to me…yep, you guessed it, another flock of birds, more maids that don’t clean a thing, additional dancehall divas, the requisite fruit tree, and now there are ten men in tights jumping all over my home – one of them has a turtle dove on his head and another knocked over two pear trees and a lamp. Maybe a membership at the local zoo would have been more conducive?
The Eleventh Day
On the eleventh day of Christmas, that idiot gave to me…the entire lot of birds, maids, more divas of the dance, leaping lords, another tree, and if it wasn’t noisy enough in here, we now have eleven pipers piping – perhaps a subscription to an online dating service would have been a much more welcome gift…
The Twelfth Day
On the twelfth day of Christmas, my true enemy gave to me…yet another pear tree, the entire collection of flying friends, more useless maids, and other plethora of pitiful pipers, dancing divas, and lords a-leaping. Thus far these clumsy oafs have broken another lamp, a vase, and the one pear tree that I had strung with Christmas lights. Included in this final round of the worst assemblage of Christmas gifts in the history of holiday giving, I now have twelve drummers drumming adding to the deafening racket in here. My couch is covered in bird droppings and green fruit.
And More..
My cat has a suspicious hen feather in her mouth. I have received a citation from the city for an excessive animal population. My landlord has served me an additional pet deposit demand. The leaping lords have run off with the milk maids, leaving me with a yard of goats, one of which is chasing my Chihuahua, and another just ate my porch furniture. Along with a squawking array of birds are rotting fruit trees and a migraine the size of Texas. I am considering a holiday restraining order. Next time my “true” love had better go to Jared.
