A Christmas Story in June?

My parents filed for divorce the day after I was conceived, so I grew up in a single parent home. When I was a kid that only meant one thing....TWO CHRISTMASES!! Who needs a strong adult male role model around when you're getting all that loot? I pretended to still believe in Santa for years after I figured out the truth because I thought if they knew I didn't believe they'd stop showering me with goodies. I finally had to give up the deception when I sat on a mall Santa's lap and shattered his pelvis. Much to my surprise and delight, Christmas remained an embarrassment of riches.

I was a spoiled brat and I loved every minute of it. The day after Christmas, kids in my neighborhood would approach me forlornly and say, "Yeah, I got a sweatshirt that doesn't fit, a package of tube socks, and a scratch-and-dent Sea Monkey village. What did you get?" I'd reply, "Oh, I got ten G.I. Joes with the kung fu grip, a pinball machine, a tv for my room, and...I don't know, some other crap."

Naturally, I was roundly despised by almost everyone, partly because I refused to let kids I didn't like play with my stuff. Every day of the summer, while my mom was at work, a pack of unwashed redneck transmission fluid huffers would knock on my door and want to play pinball or air hockey. If one of the three people in the neighborhood who I could actually stand was among the group, I'd let them in. If not, which was usually the case, I'd say "no" and slam the door in their faces. They hated me, they knew I hated them, fuck them for even asking. You need two people to play air hockey but I let the table sit unused I despised those greasy- haired fucks so much. They had cesspool run-off coursing through their veins and I didn't want to be around them.

They thought they were getting the last laugh when we'd play football and they'd gang tackle me when I didn't have the ball, but I'm happy to report most of them are now dead or in prison.