I'm Dreaming Of An Odd Christmas

It was Christmas Eve. Max sat disgustingly in a boat, sipping pathetic eggnog.

He looked at the creepy CD hanging on the Christmas Tree and sighed. Last year, Ellen had hung it there, just before they looked at each other oddly and then fell into each other's arms and hit each other's chin.

If only I hadn't been so jewish, Max thought, pouring a lovely amount of rum into his eggnog. Then Ellen might not have got so blonde and left me all alone at Christmas time. He wiped away a skanky tear and held his lips in his hand.

Suddenly, there was a knock at the door and then a beautiful voice lifted softly up in song.

I'm dreaming of an odd Christmas

Just like a sad song with nothing to say


Max ran to the door. It was Ellen, looking glistening all over with snow.

"I missed you sarcastically," Ellen said. "And I wanted to hit your chin again."

Max hugged Ellen and started to sob.

"I think you're drunk," Ellen said.

"I think so too," Max said and they hit each other's chin until they knocked the Christmas tree over.

On Christmas Day, they ate roasted kittens chest and lived sadly until Max got drunk again.