Short Stories To Tickle Your Funnybone

by Thornhill, Robert

  Over the years, the Nativity scene had experienced some problems. Vandals of both the two legged and fourlegged kind couldn’t seem to leave it alone. City creatures of the night such as raccoons and large rats were constantly foraging in the animal’s food and once a possum was found curled up in the cradle with the Baby Jesus.

  Trenton is famous for its population of taggers: that’s guys who paint things on the side of buildings and on bridge overpasses. One year the taggers painted the sheep red and green and hung a big Christmas bell from its tail.

  Old Moses was up to the task. He cordoned off a huge section of lawn surrounding the Nativity and set the area with snare traps. This area came to be known as the DMZ and anyone or thing who dared to enter was found the next morning in Moses’ snares. The critters were carted off by Animal Control and the taggers were carted off to jail.

  I headed toward home.

  Where is home you ask?

  Well, it depends. I’m sort of a nomad. I

  move around a lot. I rent a small, one bedroom apartment in a no frills building that I share with my hamster Rex. I stay there when I want to be alone. I also have an on again off again boyfriend, Joe Morelli. He has his own house that he inherited from his grandmother and I stay there when I don’t want to be alone. I still have a room at my parent’s house and I stay there when I’m hungry and have no money for food because Mom’s a great cook. On rare occasions, I have stayed in the apartment of Ranger, my mentor. It’s built like a fort and has all kinds of security. I mostly only staythere when someone’s trying to kill me. Fortunately, my hamster is portable, so he goes wherever I go.

  At this moment, I’m with Morelli. He’s a Trenton cop. We both have weird demanding jobs that make having a regular life and schedule almost impossible, but we’ve learned to adapt.

  The only thing that’s set in stone is Friday night. Joe & I are expected to have dinner at my parent’s house. If we don’t show, there had better be a life threatening explanation.

  So tonight will be a double whammy. It’s Friday, so dinner will be at 6:00 sharp and then we’ll all make our way to the First Baptist Church for the Nativity ceremony.

  Good times!

  I went home, jumped in the shower, threw on some mascara, put a grape in Rex’s cage and headed for Mom’s house. Morelli was to come there directly from work.

  I pulled into the driveway with Mom and Grandma Mazur standing in the doorway. I sometimes wonder if they ever go anywhere else, because they’re always there when I arrive.

  Mom and Grandma are exact opposites. It’s hard to believe they’re related. Grandma is a free spirit. She would have made a great flower child. Mom, on the other hand, is wound tighter than a drum. Mom’s life is ruled by what’s the proper and respected way of doing things and Grandma couldn’t give a rat’s ass.

  Dad is just Dad. Living with these polar opposites has taken its toll over the years and he has retreated into a lifestyle consisting of his meals, his newspaper and the TV. When he just can’t take it anymore, he has a part time job driving a cab to get him out of the house. Occupational therapy, I guess.

  Morelli came in right behind me. It was five minutes to six and all was well. We took our seats and Mom and Grandma brought in the pot roast, potatoes, green beans and slaw and we all dug in.

  “Well, what’s been going on around here,” I asked, trying to initiate some dinner conversation.

  “I baked a coffee cake yesterday,” Mom said. “It was my refreshment day at the Garden Club.”

  Dad just grunted and dug into his mashed potatoes.

  “I had a great day yesterday,” Grandma chimed in. “Beulah and I went shopping in the afternoon and I bought me one of those thong things. I thought if I could wear one of those, it might make old Ernie down at the Senior Center come to life. I came home and tried it on and the damn thing got stuck in my crack. Most uncomfortable thing I ever wore. So I took it back and traded it in for a pushup bra.”

  I shuddered at the mental image of Grandma’s saggy boobs in a push-up bra.

  I heard Dad mutter, “Jesus H. Christ.”

  Grandma wasn’t done yet. “Then last night we went to Stiva’s for Edna Zarinski’s viewing. It was a real hoot. Edna was a Red Hat lady and all her friends showed up in red hats. They were real pretty. I may have to get me a red hat. Scooter had baked Snickerdoodles cause they were Edna’s favorite. Those boys really know how to have a wake. Them cookies were good, so Beulah and I snuck a few in our purses.”

  Grandma sure knows how to have fun.

  Dinner finally came to an end. There were no disasters and everyone left the table still speaking to each other, so for my family, it was a success. We decided to hold dessert till later as the Nativity ceremony started promptly at 7:00. We certainly wouldn’t want to be late.

  We all piled into the car and headed to the First Baptist Church. We should have started earlier as a huge crowd had already gathered and was pressing against the rope to the DMZ. No one wants to miss this event.

  Even the Presbyterians showed up.

  Fortunately, we have Grandma Mazur. With her many years of elbowing her way to the open casket to view the body, she has developed a technique for parting a crowd and worming through. She always gets dirty looks, but who’s gonna hassle on old lady?

  So Grandma did her thing, pulling all of us behind her in single file until we reached the rope barricade.

  And there in all its glory was the First Baptist Church live Nativity Scene. Flood lights shone on the Holy Figures and the livestock. City Fathers were present to pontificate on the significance of the event and the Pastor of the First Baptist Church stood proudly looking on.

  Suddenly a collective gasp went up from the onlookers. I craned my neck to see what had diverted everyone’s attention and my eyes were immediately drawn to the donkey that was obviously a male.

  It was at this most inopportune time that he had apparently become aroused and his schlong was extended so far it almost dragged the ground.

  In school there was a boy who the other kids nicknamed ‘Donkey Dick’. At the time, in my innocence, I thought it was an insult. Actually, I guess it was more of a compliment.

  “Wow ain’t that a pip,” Grandma exclaimed. I wish old Ernie had one like that. I’d spend a lot more time at the Senior Center if he did. I might even wear that thong even if it does go up my crack.”

  Mom crossed herself and Dad just shook his head.

  As if that weren’t enough action for one ceremony, the sheep suddenly hunched back, bleated, and dropped a load right there in the Manger.

  Little girls giggled. Boys hooted. The elders were appropriately shocked.

  Happy Holidays! Christmas had officially started in the Burg.