Thursday, December 22, 2005
Battlefront Report
The reek of blood and candy canes wafted toward me and jolted me awake. With dead eyes, I scanned the field, spotted a red hat bobbing along the trench opposite, and thought of taking a shot. Just then, next to me, Smitty fired his rocket-propelled-Nietzsche. Beyond Good and Evil sailed across the battlefield, and fell harmlessly short. A chorus of "Ho, ho, ho"s rose up from the enemy's side. Damn Smitty, for wasting the ammo. Never trust an agnostic, I said to myself, for the ten thousandth time of the war. But I knew, we atheists weren't much in the clinch either.
On my left, Jones' corpse gave off a rich cedar smell -- the tree had gone straight through him as he climbed out of the trench for our last charge. The tinsel dangled from his gaping wound, the dull sparkle tantalizing me with thoughts of desertion. "FWOOMP!" -- the familiar, yet always frightening, sound concentrated my mind. "Incoming!" I shouted just as fruitcake mortar round came in. What used to be Smitty disintegrated before my eyes -- gone to meet his Maker, or not.
The fruitcake mortaring meant another charge, I peered over the sandbags and saw the row of jolly red-and-white suits pouring out of their trenches. Our Kwanzaa unit scrambled out of their forward foxholes, the Hannukah and Ramadan launched a coordinated flanking attack, leaving the Atheists, Agnostics, Buddhists, and Hindus to hold the center. I shouted "Happy Holidays!" to rally our forces, but they were too worn out to move. Suddenly, we heard the Festivus horns, reinforcements at last! We sprang forward and charged with fixed First-Amendments directly at their reindeer cavalry. The sound of "Jingle Bells" seemed to come from all sides.
On my left, Jones' corpse gave off a rich cedar smell -- the tree had gone straight through him as he climbed out of the trench for our last charge. The tinsel dangled from his gaping wound, the dull sparkle tantalizing me with thoughts of desertion. "FWOOMP!" -- the familiar, yet always frightening, sound concentrated my mind. "Incoming!" I shouted just as fruitcake mortar round came in. What used to be Smitty disintegrated before my eyes -- gone to meet his Maker, or not.
The fruitcake mortaring meant another charge, I peered over the sandbags and saw the row of jolly red-and-white suits pouring out of their trenches. Our Kwanzaa unit scrambled out of their forward foxholes, the Hannukah and Ramadan launched a coordinated flanking attack, leaving the Atheists, Agnostics, Buddhists, and Hindus to hold the center. I shouted "Happy Holidays!" to rally our forces, but they were too worn out to move. Suddenly, we heard the Festivus horns, reinforcements at last! We sprang forward and charged with fixed First-Amendments directly at their reindeer cavalry. The sound of "Jingle Bells" seemed to come from all sides.
