Unbagging the Cats 1

Unbagging the Cats 1

Thursday, December 22, 2011

Santa Has a Mean Streak

Some people are afraid of clowns. Whether they are born with an aversion to red foam noses and white pasty faces, or develop it due to a traumatic clown experience, I'll never know. But I do know this: why my old neighbor is afraid of Santa's Naughty or Nice List.

Before I met Hick, I lived in a Backroads townhouse. My neighbor, let's call her Shelly, lived three doors down. Shelly worked in a neighboring school district. We met at the pool, and commiserated about local dating options. Shelly had students, like I did, who would gladly fix her up with a date at the drop of a hat. Mine proffered up their brothers, "There are eleven kids in my family. I know I have a brother the right age for you. How old are you, exactly?" Shelly's students fixed her up with a custodian/bus driver.

Shelly agreed. "It's not like they're related to him. I've seen him around school, and he seems like a nice guy. He's about my age. And it's only one date. What could go wrong?" You know something bad is going to happen, right? That's how I felt, sitting there on my earth-tone-plaid couch, listening to Shelly justify the date more for herself than for me.

The evening was a moderate success. Shelly and her beau went out for pizza. They talked. He was nice enough. But Shelly didn't click with him. Not a love connection. She was cordial to Beau around school. But when he asked her out again, she politely declined. She wasn't into the dating scene just now, she said.

The original date occurred around Halloween. Between Thanksgiving and Christmas, Shelly received a Christmas card. On the front was a jovial Santa, holding his Naughty or Nice List, pen poised to place a check mark in the box. The inside read, "I'm making a list, and checking it twice." The sender had written below that. "And you're not on it, B*tch!" No signature.

Shelly knew it was Beau. But she couldn't prove it.

Now I think of Shelly every time I see Santa with his list.


Sioux said...

That story cements why I would NOT date if something suddenly happened (like an accident with the wood chipper) to my husband.


Linda O'Connell said...

There are whack jobs in all schools. I had a crazed mom write me threatening letters in third person, all because I refused to address the smelly father on a field trip.

Bailey Hammond said...

Huh. And Beau seemed like such a nice guy too. Can't judge a guy by his name apparently. That's a real disappointment because it's the first thing that I do. I need to reevaluate my vetting methods now.

irishoma said...

Funny story.
Beau should be on the Bad Santa list. He is a twist to the phrase "a woman scorned."

labbie1 said...


Val Thevictorian said...

Once they hear about the woodchipper accident, I doubt you would have to chase away suitors with a stick.

At least you weren't closed in a classroom with him for fifty minutes.

Does this mean you would not go to dinner with Dweezil Zappa? Assuming he was the right age for you, of course.

Beau is a bad banana with a greasy black peel.

I'm glad it wasn't me.