Yuletide Cheer

Everyone loves the holidays, or so we say. But why do we do, some of the things we do at this time of year? Do we put too much emphasis on gifts, and why do we not spend time with our families as much the remaining 11 months? An interesting discussion on what Christmas entails on this episode of Smirk, Yuletide Cheer.


Welcome to Smirk. A podcast that covers society and culture through a storytelling lens. Part creative writing, part discussion, and always interesting. Each week our hosts brings a story to the show, a story they wrote themselves, which is immediately followed by discussion on the author’s moral or theme. These stories can cover any topic the host wants to discuss, it can be lighthearted or more serious. No one but the author knows if these tales are truth or fiction, and part of the fun is guessing while you’re listening before the reality is made clear. We want to hear from you! If you want to share YOUR story, join the conversation by writing in to mystory@smirkpodcast.com, and include your moral, or you can let us guess at it. This is the podcast that looks at truth, fiction, and reality. With a Smirk. Don’t forget to subscribe to Smirk and share the show with your friends!

 

 

Want to read Zack’s story “Yuletide Cheer” in full? Think you can identify the moral or theme for this episode? Read it below, and then take a listen to the podcast.


Yuletide Cheer

This Christmas was white, so perfect for merry.
And the house was big, hosted by our rich uncle Barry.
Plenty of creatures were stirring, including the mouse
Makes plenty of sense, considering the stuffed-full house

As usual Grandpa was sitting on that age-old couch.
He craned his neck forward, forced into a slouch.
Truth be told, it looked uncomfortable and rough.
But it was hard to care, as he was spewing racist stuff.

We caught eyes, and I forced a smile stiff.
Looking to my right, it was our uncle Cliff.
Wish I could say something positive here,
But it’s hard when he’s sitting so damn near.

He’s lurking right over me, guess it’s me this time.
Every year it’s one of us girls, who deals with this slime.
His hot breath hits the back of my neck.
Soon he’ll lean over and give me that gross peck.

I can see my sister across the room.
She laughs at my misery, my very doom.
It’s nice she could join us this year, guess her gift was bail.
You see, more often than not, her home is in jail.

Who could come next, I wonder with fright.
Despite my best hopes, it doesn’t fill me with delight.
As now I can see my father enter the cheer.
And I can see how tightly he grips his beer.

But at least he’s talking with everybody,
Instead of acting like a near-dead zombie.
The same can’t be said for Grandma with her radio in hand.
She brings her own portable one, and listens to sports on the AM band.

Don’t even get me started on my plethora of cousins.
Those brats I wish could be locked in some dungeons.
Noisy and loud, you could hear them for miles.
But as soon as you yell, they’re nothing but smiles.

Oh, it’s my brother and he brought his awful boyfriend.
It’s as if his very reason for being is to offend.
Every year we get that much closer to a real fight,
As my personal doomsday clock ticks closer to midnight.

This family makes me want to quit,
But I guess that’s how it goes, isn’t it?
We all gather up for Christmas this time of year,
As we fight past the misery to feign yuletide cheer.