FA LA LA LA LAAA LA LA LA LAAAAAAAAAAA
The carol-caterwaulers were orally assaulting my homestead with their senseless joviality, their defence against the blighty cold of Mighty-Blighty was simply a song in their throat and the love of Christmas in their hearts... with a decent sized dose of ear-rape for those unfortunate enough to be caught in their cacophonous crossfire.
I tried to revel in their festive warmth... but they hadn't seen the things that I had seen! I wanted to revel in their happiness, in their joy and their love, but my revelling attempt was equivalent to finding the coffee flavoured one when all you really wanted was an Orange one or those ones that are a bit like Minstrels...
Yes I had seen goodness, I had seen joy, I had seen beauty and the wondrous side of NATURE time and time over...
But I had also seen darkness, unthinking, unheeding, unfeeling, psychopathic, sociopathic, deranged and insane. I had seen the worst that this so-called God had to offer, and I must say, if they had seen some of the things I had seen, then these so-called Carol-singers heads would probably explode as naivety and innocence combined with the cold, calculated gloom of actuality...
Dark times... dark times indeed...
I finished off my whiskey and retired to bed...
A NEW DAY!
A NEW DAWN!
I skipped out of bed, too hell with the hangover! It was Christmas Eve and I was off to find a pile! All year I had waited for this, I set up camp on my roof, and waited for them to arrive, I watched out, I did not cry, I did not pout, Santa Claus was coming to town... and more importantly, he was bringing his Reindeer.
As night fell I looked to the horizon and waited for their jingly bells that heralded their coming...
It didn't take long. I had been exceptionally good all year round, and Santa always rewards the good boys first.
I am a VERY good boy.
And so, as Santa Claus creeped down my chimney I struck up a conversation with the Reindeer nearest to me, his name was Alan, he was a no-nonsense sort of Reindeer, and was fairly tired and not particularly forthcoming. He didn't appear to have a pile.
I was a mite crestfallen.
He looked so tired I offered him a mince pie... he declined... some Roasted Chestnuts... nope... After Eights, Dates, Salted nuts, Yule-log...
No. No. No. No.
"What would you like to eat Alan?" I asked.
"Cheese on Toast."
And so it became that another myth had been shattered, Reindeers liked Christmas food no more than I liked Carol Singers! I took Alan in through my front door (Santa was still worming his way down my chimney the fat bastard) and grilled him up a veritable feast of the finest moon-cheese on toast!
I have never seen a Reindeer so happy. He piled them on his plate, then guzzled them like a kid with a bowl of custard! I packed him some more for his journey and then he gave me a warm hug...
And like a shot, they were gone, I poked all my presents, but as I am a good boy I didn't unwrap them yet.
And then I retired to bed, content with my years work of pile-hunting... but I knew there was still a long journey ahead of me... My adventure into piles had just begun.
next year I would learn so much more.
But for now, MERRY CHRISTMAS AND A HAPPY NEW YEAR TO ALL MY FELLOW LOVERS OF PILES!!
Warning
Santa eats bad kids.
I love you
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