Ahh, The Nativity Story

The cold blustery days, those wintry mixes that come (or don’t come) at night.  They all remind me of that beautiful Christmas story of Mary the pregnant high school junior who ran away from home with her boyfriend Joey.  Ah yes, it was Mary’s job to lure the cars to the side of the road with her upturned thumb and protruding belly, while Joey would sneak around the car and yank the driver out onto the road, steal their wallet and the two of them would take off in the jacked vehicle.  Then they have the baby, I don’t remember his name, but their friends:  Tommy, Jack and Milky (known around school as the 3 Wise Asses) show up with gifts of smokes, weed and vodka (since Mary can drink and smoke again).  Then Herod, the school bully and Mary’s ex-boyfriend, comes to school with an arsenal in his backpack and shoots up the first floor of the building killing 9 and wounding 30 before taking his own life.

Don’t worry, I won’t bore you with my whole re-imagining of the Nativity.  I’m saving up for my story where the Easter Bunny nails Jesus to the cross.

I actually did get an “F” on a fourth grade project, and was threatened with ex-communication for what was probably my first re-imagining.  It was an empty threat, but still who threatens a fourth grader with eternal damnation?  Nuns, that’s who.  Anyway, we had to write a short Christmas story, so I sort of took the whole Jesus being born story, and just replaced Jesus with Frosty the Snowman.  I was so proud when I turned it in.  I mean I had the angel appearing to Frosty’s mother, her complaining that she wasn’t married, the angel tells her that even her cousin who was thought to be barren and frigid (Okay I added frigid now) was also expecting a snowchild herself.  I went all out for a fourth grader.  And it was returned to me with one red word at the top:  SACRILEGE.

I laugh about it now, but I believe I also got in quite a bit of trouble at home too.  See, I’m from that wonderful time when parents believed the teachers over their own children.  Why would a nun lie?  Umm, I don’t know, because they’re sexually frustrated?

 

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