‘TIS THE SEASON to be angry! That’s my personal rendition of a very stupid Christmas song. As you’ve probably gathered, I absolutely cannot stand Christmas. A little part of me dies whenever somebody says, “Happy holidays,” “Seasons greetings,” or “Merry Christmas.”
I know what you’re thinking: How can a freaking ornament hate the holidays? Well, I wasn’t always this cynical. Many years ago, when I was a young, freshly painted decoration, I was full of optimism and hope. I realize now I was foolish and naïve. Read on to learn the true nature of the life of an ornament.
It’s so cold!
Do you know how freezing it can get, hanging around on the branch of an evergreen tree? Not to mention, after I’ve been hung, you people just leave me there. I never get enough warmth from the fireplace, and I swear your family is trying to save money by never turning on the furnace. It’s so hard to look pretty and sparkly when you’re shivering! I don’t like being a blue ball any more than you like having them.
Santa Claus is just some oafish, fat man
I don’t know why everyone goes crazy for this white-haired dude. He has no style or grace. Last year, he almost killed me and my ornament friends when he tripped over a present and bumped into our tree. He nearly knocked us over!
Also, I must ask, what’s up with his clothes? Every year he squeezes himself down the chimney wearing the same red and white suit. Can’t the elves make him something a little more slimming to wear? I’m sick and tired of this strange old man disrupting my beauty sleep every Christmas. Can’t the police pick him up for home invasion already?
Rejected and ignored
Have you ever been rejected? Of course you have. Take that horrible feeling and multiply it by a thousand. That’s how I feel each and every year. I’m ignored for 11 months until Dec. 1 comes around. Do you know how it feels to be tossed in a box for such a long period of time? It’s a claustrophobic’s worst nightmare. I barely have enough oxygen to breathe, and the amount of dust that gets on me is disgusting. Even when I am on display, no one cares about me—they always compliment the tree instead.
That damn star
The star atop the tree is the main reason why I loathe the existence of Christmas. The star is a shiny, little, obnoxious ornament that thinks it’s better than all of us. Well, you listen here, honey: Just because you get the best spot on the tree doesn’t make you any more special than I am. Just once, I’d like a place of honour on this tree, but of course, Blondie the star always weasels her way to the top. Desperate for attention much?