Connie: Don’t forget to write this year’s Christmas letter.
Rick: Oh crud, I forgot all about that. What should I write about?
C: I don’t know. You’ll think of something.
R: I could tell about our trip to Disneyland. That was pretty fun.
C: That was last year.
R: No it wasn’t. Was it?
C: Yes. It was.
R: I know! I can do something kitschy, like a review of old Facebook posts.
C: You’ve done that already.
R: Really? Was it funny?
C: It was okay. Maybe you should try something different.
R: How about a poem, like in the style of Twas the Night Before Christmas? That could be good. C: Uh. You did that already, too.
R: Oh. Was it…
C: Look, just come up with something. Why don’t you talk about the kids?
R: BO-RING!
C: No, it’s not. Tell about how Calvin started high school this year and that he’s in the marching band, the Buddy Club, and those children’s theater plays.
R: The buddy what?
C: Seriously? You’re the one on the board of The Arc. It’s the club where he socializes with disabled kids at the school. You told him to join it.
R: If you say so. Nah, that stuff is humdrum. What else you got?
C: Well, Felix started middle school, he plays the piano and the drums, and he volunteers with Calvin at the summer camp for disabled kids. Tell about that.
R: Please. That’s as lame as the stuff about Calvin. Look, I’m under enormous pressure here. People think I’m hilarious. I have a persona to maintain!
C: No they don’t, and no you don’t. I suppose you don’t want to tell about Leon starting first grade, or Dorothy taking ballet lessons, or me going back to work as a substitute teacher? That’s all stuff people want to know about.
R: Nonsense! They demand to be entertained. They’re brutal and unforgiving.
C: Okay, fine. Tell about Quincy. Tell about the time that you told him that his glasses were dirty, and he said, “No they’re not, it’s just you.”
R: Haha, that was awesome. And the time he called my cell phone at church from church on the phone in the hallway? I was like, who’s calling me? “Hi, it’s me Quincy. I’m at church.” “Yeah, I am too, Quincy.” C: Wait. You answered your phone during church?
R: Maybe. What else? Oh, the time a few weeks ago that he peed on the potatoes! That was classic. C: No, it wasn’t. It was gross. How about the other day when he packed his own lunch at the last minute with three oranges and the last four muffins, and he came home with three oranges? R: He got muffins?! How come I didn’t get any muffins?
C: Because he took them all. Pay attention.
R: Oh! Remember when he got himself that big bowlful of Ritz crackers covered with catsup for breakfast? That was nasty. Then he didn’t finish it and it sat on the table for, like, two days.
C: Eew, I don’t remember that.
R: Er, that must have been when you were in Utah. Never mind.
C: Remember the time he got our photo ID badges and held them together making kissy-kissy sounds? Or the time he said, “I won’t be funny at school anymore. I’ll be a good boy. And I won’t take off my socks and put them in kids’ faces.”
R: He is so weird.
C: Haha, yeah. I could go on forever. … So, what were we talking about?
R: The Christmas letter. You know, just forget it. You’ve been no help at all.
C: Sorry, I guess you’re on your own. Why don’t you just wish everyone a Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year? That’s all that matters anyway.
R: Fine. Merry Christmas and Happy New Year!