Bucking Tradition

For many many years, I've enjoyed spending Christmas Eve alone.  I've never had anyone special to share my holidays with, so this has never been an issue.  In the past, this tradition involved my getting very high, eating a pizza and watching television, usually viewing "Die Hard 1 &2" and "Lethal Weapon", both being excellent "man-style" Christmas movies.

As the years went on, certain aspects were phased out.  No longer do I partake in illicit drugs that will put me into a state of numbness, nor do I even dabble with alcohol anymore.  Neither has a positive affect on me, mentally.  Christmas is depressing enough for the single person, without having to intensifying this emotion.  Still the consumption of pizza continued.

These days, I don't even hardly bother with the movies anymore, opting to watch them on a predetermined schedule, instead.  Actually, it's less predetermined and more whimsical, but the pizza remains.

This year, I've already viewed my "Die Hard's" and oddly, I don't feel like watching "Lethal Weapon", but the pizza remained.  This year, however, due to a commitment to play Santa Claus, I've had to bump up the consumption of my Christmas pizza.  I arranged to pick it up at noon today, in hopes of spending the afternoon, eating and watching TV.  Fate, however, had other plans for me, and instead of picking up my meal and returning in a timely fashion, the battery in my truck decided to die, leaving me stranded in front of Costco for nearly an hour before the tow truck driver arrived.

Pizza cost $14 and change.  Thirty-plus minutes seemed like an eternity as last minute shoppers aggressively honked with the intention that I move the f*ck out of their way.  "And a Merry Christmas to you too, sir." I thought, watching each driver creep past me, with finger extended for my viewing pleasure.

Then a little chubby white-haired bloke pulled up beside me in a beat-up old tow truck that had clearly seen better days.  He hopped out and waddled his fat ass around to the raised hood on my truck and gave my battery a quick jump.  Accepting only cash, I was forced to return inside the Costco and visit the ATM which, subsequently, only distributed $50 bills.

"I hope you can break a fifty." I said, returning to my spot outside, next to the chubby elf-like gentleman.  He turned and smiled saying, "It's $50 and change, but..." he paused, looking down at the crisp new plastic Canadian fifty dollar bill, "Aah.  It's Christmas.  Let's call it an even fifty."  With that he scooped the bill from my hand, hopped back behind the wheel of his beat up monstrosity and disappeared into the distance.

I'm bucking tradition this year.  Eating about eight hours earlier than usual.  Spending $50 for a job that, literally, took less than 60 seconds, and will most likely be buying a brand new f*cking battery, shortly after Christmas, for a truck that has less than 48,000 km on it.  Go big or go home, I guess, huh..?  Merry Christmas one and all!!