A Christmas-Related Short Story, Part 1

Here’s a short story I just came up with on the spot on the occasion of Christmas. Since I don’t have time to continue it right now I’ll follow up with part 2 around tomorrow. Enjoy!

“Fuck Christmas,” he bitterly grumbled to himself as he trudged past scores of tacky advertisements and decorated shops. He checked his left jacket pocket again to make sure it was still there and sighed with grim relief when he was greeted with the cold, plastic grip’s presence. He tucked his right hand into its corresponding pocket in order to avoid suspicion and continued along the sidewalk to nowhere in particular. His face kept twisting with disgust slowly at the cheerful crowd before him, basking in the bright displays and advertisements of the shop windows as if they were the avatars of the holiday spirit.
Every year it was the same thing: people getting together and putting up fake smiles for people they didn’t care about, wasting all their money on things they couldn’t afford to impress said people-all while supposedly celebrating some person’s birthday two thousand years ago that very likely didn’t happen.
“Contrary to popular  belief,” as he always said, “there’s nothing beautiful about it. It’s sad and monotonous, and everyone who thinks otherwise is an idiot.” He said the same thing about virtually everything in existence, but Christmas was the thing he wished the most to be a human being, if just to subject it to the most horrendous of tortures and abuses.
Merry Christmas!” A group of carolers from some local church called to him with warm smiles upon their faces.
Fuck Christmas,” he repeated aloud to them. His expression of contempt untangled into a smirk as their smiles vanished and were replaced with shock and confusion. How could someone feel that way at this time of the year? They were probably thinking in that naive, conceited manner of theirs. The man shrugged off that thought and continued on his aimless stroll.
“Hey, you!” a voice called out to him from behind. He turned around to find a relatively young couple around his age standing by the carolers asking them about their sudden lack of holiday cheer. The male half of the pair called at the man once again, but he just stood his ground, glowering at the crowd before him. The other man said something to his partner and the carolers and walked up towards his less celebratory counterpart.
“What do you think you’re doing, cursing at people like that?” He began, only to be met with silence. “Hey! I’m talking to you, jackass!”
The other man clenched his fists in his pockets, staring right past his prospective opponent as every word he spoke washed right over him. The first man smirked once more as the better-dressed of the two gave up and turned to walk away.
“Douchebag,” he said under his breath, causing the second man to turn around and return to face him. Without even speaking, he prepared himself to punch his query, while his partner and some of the carolers objected. The first man, however, was quicker, as he seamlessly blocked the incoming strike and countered with a swift hook to the temple. The second man went down quicker than he approached the first, but instead of the usual gasps and insults uttered from the crowd, screams were heard instead. The man looked to his left and saw a revolver-the one in his pocket that he tried to keep hidden-in his hand.
Shit!” he gasped as he scrambled to replace it in his pocket. The second man’s woman ran over to her partner and hovered him, shrieking as she searched desperately for a bullet wound.
Dumb bitch! You wouldda heard a bang, The first man thought before he noticed one of the carolers trying to dial the police. He raised the pistol to the man and shouted at him to drop the phone to the ground. He complied, slowly crouching and placing it on the ground before him.
“Now kick it over!” The first man demanded, and the caroler again complied. He picked it and placed it in his pocket, still aiming at the terrified onlookers. He remained that way for a few moments before placing the pistol back in his pocket and escaping from the commotion he’d just created.

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About optimistthepessimist

Always in transit.
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One Response to A Christmas-Related Short Story, Part 1

  1. Pingback: A Christmas-Related Short Story, Part 2 | Bits and Pieces

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