Creepy Customary Christmas

By Catherine A. MacKenzie

Elise Grimes scours the Internet, deciding it would be a novel idea for her family to celebrate different customs from around the world. Her husband, Bob, and son, Jimmy, come up with customs of their own. This book is about their eight nights of “customary” Christmas. The true facts of the customs represented in this book are explained at the end of each tale.These “creepy crazy Christmas” stories have become a yearly tradition. However, I began this 2014 volume much too late to have it published in time for Christmas. Even though Christmas will be over before the stories are completed, this book will be published in January 2015.

Some of these stories might make more sense after the first volume is read. The second volume—well, the name should give it away: Creepy Crude Christmas. Be forewarned!

Call me Wacky, but I absolutely love the Grimes family. For some reason, writing about them brings me great joy and laughter. I suppose I have a warped sense of humour, if I have any at all, because most of these stories aren’t even funny. I hope they are sarcastic, however, because that’s how they began.

Book is not suitable for children although it does not really contain adult content.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Catherine A. MacKenzie
• Release date: Dec 29, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310188688

Catherine A. MacKenzie

Contact Cathy if you require services such as editing, formatting e-books and print books, making covers for e-books and print books, or publishing books. She will be glad to help! Cathy enjoys writing poems, short stories, and essays, some of which appear online and in various anthologies, including those published by Chicken Soup for the Soul, Dancing with Bear Publishing, Rebel Ink Press, and Twin Trinity Media. Her works have also appeared in such publications as Sasee Magazine, Magnapoets, and Still Point Arts Quarterly. She has self-published books of poetry and short story collections, both e-books and print books. Numerous other stories and poems are in the works, which she hopes to publish in the near future. Cathy also paints, pastels being her favorite medium and her grandchildren her favorite subjects. Cathy lives in Halifax, Nova Scotia, with her husband, and they winter in Ajijic, Mexico, where several of her works have appeared in local publications. Visit Cathy's website (below) for further information about her and where to purchase her books. Please let her know you’ve been by and leave a comment! Connect with the Author: Mail to: [e-mail] Visit Cathy at: http://writingwicket.wordpress.com/

Book preview

CREEPY CUSTOMARY CHRISTMAS

by Catherine A. MacKenzie

Creepy Customary Christmas

Copyright ©2014 Catherine Anne MacKenzie

MacKenzie Publishing

December 2014

Contact the author at:

[e-mail]

License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favourite retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

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This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, locations and dialogues in this book are of the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, real places, locations or situations is purely coincidental and unintended.

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Disclaimer

These stories, for entertainment purposes only, in no way represent the views and opinions of the author or publisher.

Note from the Author

These creepy crazy Christmas series of stories have become a yearly tradition. Some of these stories might make more sense after the first volume is read. The second volume’s title should give it away: Creepy Crude Christmas. Be forewarned!

Call me Wacky, but I absolutely love the Grimes family. For some reason, writing about them brings me great joy and laughter. I suppose I have a warped sense of humour, if I have any at all, because most of these stories aren’t even funny. I hope they are sarcastic, however, because that’s how they began.

Despite the above, this family—Elise, Bob, and Jimmy—manage to cheer me up when I’m depressed. I guess I get the winter blues this time of year though I have EVERYTHING to be grateful for!

Cathy

December 2014

About the Grimes’ Customary Christmas

This book is about the Grimes family’s eight nights of customary Christmas.

Elise scoured the Internet, deciding it would be a novel idea for her family to celebrate different customs from around the world. Unbeknownst to her, her husband, Bob, and son, Jimmy, come up with customs of their own.

The true facts of the customs represented in this book are explained at the end of each tale, which usually differ greatly from Elise’s interpretation.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Eight Days of Customary Christmas

On the First Day of Christmas

Red and Eleanor

On the Second Day of Christmas

Sweat and Stars

On the Third Day of Christmas

Dangling Heart Strings

On the Fourth Day of Christmas

Gold and Silver and All Things Nice

On the Fifth Day of Christmas

Angel Atop the Tree

On the Sixth Day of Christmas

Pickles, Smickles, Spiders and Shoes

On the Seventh Day of Christmas

Christmas Pudding

On the Eighth Day of Christmas

Witches’ Eve and Czech Dinner

Epilogue

End of Customary Christmas

Wishmas List or

Ghost of Christmas Passed

The New Year

Meet the Author

Prologue

Eight Days of Customary Christmas

Bob, I’ve decided to have a customary Christmas this year. What do you think? Elise asked.

Customary? What in the hell does that mean?

Customary. You know. Customs. Customs other countries follow, so we can experience different traditions since obviously I’m never going to get to those places in person. Elise gazed into the distance. Oh, how I’d love to travel. See worldly sights. Savour different foods.... Elise’s eyes glassed over as if a confectionary glaze had drizzled over her head and slipped into her eyes. But no, she wasn’t a cake. She was a normal human who simply wanted to travel and see the world. Unfortunately—or fortunately—she was smart enough to know that would never happen, not with her lazy husband, Bob. Oh sure, he did try to earn money for extras, like that one year when he got the job at Bullseye as Santa Claus. He had barely lasted an hour with those snotty, drooling kids farting on his lap. One of them even had the nerve to tell Bob the noise wasn’t a fart, that it had been the kid’s lower intestine throwing Santa a kiss.

Elise had laughed when Bob recited that tale. Tail or tale? That’s funny, she remembered thinking. A fart from the lower body. Tail. Get it? She had told the joke to Bob who, of course, didn’t get it. Her husband never grasped her humour.

Back in the present, Bob at her side, Elise said, I just know I’ll never get to travel, so I thought we’d celebrate eight Christmas customs over eight days. One for each day, leading up to Christmas.

Elise jumped off the couch and ran into the kitchen. It’s December 14 today, she yelled. That means...ah...ah.... Math had never been her strong point. If today is Sunday and Christmas Day is Thursday—not Thursday this week but next—how many days does that leave for my eight days? That is, what do I subtract if we’re gonna do the eight customs? But not one on Christmas Day, ‘cause Christmas Day is sacred, and I want to be done before Christmas Day because Christmas Day we’ll be too busy with presents. If Bob gives me one this year, she thought. Yes, we’ll be too busy that day to worry about fool customs. Um....

Elise, Bob shouted, did you go to the bathroom instead of the kitchen?

Even from the other room, Elise heard her husband joke. And at her expense. No, I haven’t fallen into the toilet, she wanted to scream. Elise knew he didn’t really mean had she fallen in. People asked the question in jest when someone was gone too long; most times when they were too long in the bathroom. Elise thought it a silly joke. What human could fall into a toilet? Most adults, unless one were a midget or a dwarf, were too large; even children were too big. Of course, children were agile creatures and liked to attempt any feat. Kids could probably fall in if they positioned themselves a certain way, but they couldn’t be flushed down the toilet. Oh, I suppose a baby could, she thought, but who’d flush a baby down the toilet? Unless one were having a miscarriage and it accidently escaped or if a female wanted to get rid of evidence, like the product of an affair. Push the lever. Gone. Finito. Caput. Flush away.

Elise snickered at her joke, but it wasn’t really funny, was it? No, the pro-lifers would string her up by her neck and watch her suffer. Those people, with their righteous attitudes and opinions, enjoyed prowling streets with their obnoxious signs and disgusting pictures. Women had the right to choose. Who knew what trouble a woman might find herself mired in, although she’d have to be desperate to flush a foetus down the toilet. Elise sympathized with those women. Perhaps they had been raped or had a thoughtless lustful moment, and the ill-fated reward—or punishment—would be an unwanted pregnancy. Yes, Elise sympathized though she’d never do such a thing. No, her marriage vows were intact. She’d never cheat on Bob. Despite the many times she had dreamt about it, she’d never actually follow through. Or would she? No, you don’t have a pool, had