Last year I introduced a new feature to this blog called Be The Boy Holidays, a collection of stories about me and my family and how we’ve celebrated Christmas, New Years and sometimes Hanukkah. It was so much fun last year that I’ve brought it back for a second go round and to start it off I’m pulling out the big guns. Yes Virginia, I’m leading off with the story of The Christmas Midget so gather your loved ones (or email this to them) and enjoy. Here we go:
On a Christmas Day in the mid 90’s I headed to my father’s for dinner. I was not prepared for what I found when I arrived.
Nobody expected to find a little person at the house, much less a drunk one but that’s what we had that year, a boozy midget. With any business involving my father it’s best not to ask questions but I had to:
“Where did the little guy come from?”
-“I won him”
-“A game of none of your fucking business”
End of discussion.
After getting nowhere with my dad I asked my brother and found out that the little person’s name was Binky and he was there to help my dad out for the holiday as a result of a bar bet. Of course…the old Christmas helper midget bet; I should have guessed.
Now the thing to know about my father’s house is that holiday dinners can be kind of tense affairs but having the little guy around really loosened everyone up. For the first time since anyone could recall we all truly enjoyed the holiday. Luckily for me, this was before I developed my well-documented phobia of eating in the same room as a little person, so we all enjoyed a good meal too.
Even though he was a helper midget my father had a seat ready at the dinner table for him, and we all got our own food from the kitchen because that is how my family treats holiday midgets…with class. We even gave him gifts: a carton of smokes, booze and some old porno magazines. Later on when his ride showed up he gathered his things and bid us farewell. We never saw him after that but the Christmas midget gave us the best holiday ever.
Now I know that kids today don’t believe in Christmas Midgets, but I tell you they are real. And if you’re good all year long or your parents are very secretive you just might hear the little footsteps coming to your house.