The end of Festivus
It’s over. It made a horrible noise, not unlike the sound made by Lord Windershmere as he lost the Great Crepitation Contest of 1946, and then simply faded away as though attacked by a Ring Wraith. It’s good, really, as Festivus was an expensive creature to have around, if even only for a few months. Every day the Festivus increased in strength, more-more-more, starting from a small barely visible thing until it reached its full size just a few hours ago. At is peak the Festivus was extending its tentacles deep into my wallet, reaching for my soul if not my testicles as well, but I would not let it win. “You shall not pass!” I said, speaking not just as a simple man but as the Baron of Bugtussel for all the mortal souls who could not speak for themselves. Finally, as one great surgeon once said to an equally great commander, I heard a voice – “It’s dead, Jim”- whispering into my ear. The Festivus was gone. The Festivus left behind its carnage – paper, boxes, bones of a large flightless bird and plastic wafers labelled “VISA” too hot to even touch for at least a few days. As he left I heard a foul scream emitted from its filthy mouth, called to all about who could hear – “I’ll be back!”. Where is a Terminator when you really need one?
