Well, it’s December, and we all know what that means–yes, it’s national Bingo Month. And in honor of everyone still making the “B-52!” joke, here’s a little tale for all of you fans of obscure holidays.
Once upon a time, Christmas Day (Dec. 25) woke up to the sound of quite a clatter, and ran outside to see what was the matter.
It was a mob. With sticks. A group of unruly people yelling and jeering at him.
“What’s the matter?” asked Christmas. “You are, Chris,” said a surly-looking fellow with bright red cheeks. “You think you’re so special.”
“Who are you?” asked Christmas.
“That’s exactly the problem!” the man shouted. “People don’t know who I am–you could walk right past me and never know you missed Eat A Red Apple Day (Dec. 1). It’s your self-important holiday domination ruining the fun appley spirit that I can bring to boys and girls everywhere.”
“Yeah,” piped up a rotund little boy with flour in his hair and grease on his chin, standing with a handful of other kids. “There are lots more of us than you probably realize. And thanks to your bloated status, people can go their whole lives without enjoying experiences like National Fritters Day (Dec. 2), National Brownie Day (Dec. 8), National Bouillabaisse Day (Dec. 14), or National Roast Suckling Pig Day (Dec. 18).”
“What the crap is Bouillabaisse?” Christmas asked.
A little Frenchman from the group began hopping up and down and pulling in his moustaches. “Idiot! It is a soup or stew containing several kinds of fish and often shellfish, usually combined with olive oil, tomatoes, and saffron, as everyone with a brain knows!”
“And who’s that old man in the Everlast shorts, crying his eyes out and drinking tea?”
“That’s your first victim, Boxing Day (Dec. 26),” said Fritter. “He’s been forgotten around here for so long that he’s had to move overseas, to places where they still play cricket.”
“Ouch,” said Christmas. “That’s pretty rough.”
“What do you know about rough?” said a disheveled lady in chacos. “Wear Brown Shoes Day has never been less popular than it is now.”
“Oh, it’s not so bad,” slurred a fat man in a tub with a bottle of whiskey (Bathtub Party Day and Repeal Day, both Dec. 5).
“Please, señor, we are muy triste living in such isolation,” said International Children’s Day (Dec. 12).
“Duh hoy hoy uckaloo!” “Who was that?” asked Christmas.
“Don’t mind him, that’s just Ding-a-Ling Day (Dec. 12).” This was spoken by a woman with a gun, a porn video and copy of the Koran. She was also nibbling on something. “Let’s get back to the issue. You’ve taken over all of National Bingo Month, you’ve dominated Thanksgiving, and some stores even have your decorations up before Increase Your Psychic Powers Day (Oct. 31). That’s just flat out too much for one holiday.”
“Bill of Rights Day/National Lemon Cupcake Day (Dec. 15) is right,” said a pale stranger in white, slowly advancing up the sidewalk to the front door. Next to him was a sour-looking woman in a long cloak. “This has gone too far. And National Vinegar Day (Nov. 1) and I are here to make sure it never happens again.”
Christmas stepped back in alarm, reaching behind him for the door knob. The pair was drawing closer, reaching out for the lapels on his bright red coat. “So who are you?” asked Christmas, almost afraid to hear the answer.
“Well Christmas,” said the stranger, “I’m not surprised you don’t know. With all of your popularity, it’s hard to remember someone as unimportant as…National Bicarbonate of Soda Day (Dec. 30)!”
The last thing Christmas heard before he lost consciousness was a growing hiss in his ears…
