Father – Son Rivalry, a love story.
Yes, it’s that time of year again.
The time of year when the Oldest Boy and I start searching the highways and byways of cyber shops in an effort to evoke gasps of amazement from each other as we try to out outrageous each other in the annual gift giving season.
This year, James, my eldest boy who will be from here on out referred to as “The Boy”, struck first arterial blood ( as opposed to the far less dramatic “gift flesh wound” ) with a Marshmallow Bow and accompanying “Robin Hood Style” hat. I was getting quite perturbed as I awaited his latest attempt at securing the Crown of Gratuitous Gag Gifting. Certainly, points were taken away for it not arriving timely upon my birthday, yet still he scored high on the “Hey! Get a load of this!!” category. Also high marks were handed out for the quality of the aforementioned head gear.
Last year he did, in fact, fairly and squarely run away with the Crown by gifting me a “12 in 1 Designer Kitchen Rock”. Said rock had absolutely no instructions as to it’s function or purpose and, other than to enrich the various delivery agents of the world. (What with the rock weighing in at about 12 kilos, and freight charges being what they are…) I had no idea what the hell the goddamned thing was good for!! While I may have been totally flummoxed and, quite honestly, baffled that I had been let down, my lovely and talented assistant finally found it on the internet and determined that is was in fact a designer rock with multiple uses beside being used as a door stop and toe stubbing device.
Then there was the infamous ”Flying Fuck”. A helicopter toy with a huge foam block with the word FUCK carved quite artistically out of it.
Yes, he has had his moments…
But then again, I have had the pleasure of sending him: Trebuches, Marshmallow Rifles, Dancing Chickens, Angry Mobs ( and honestly, what says “love” more than an angry mob? ) a Leg Lamp, a genuine YES WE CAN opener, etc…
This year, though all the stops are, in fact, coming off and the most absolutely diabolically fun and useful Prize Package to ever cross our thrash holds are being assembled in various laboratories, factories and agribusiness centers around the world. Tareq Aziz himself absolutely refuses to be my spokesman saying he would not be able to “keep a lid on so dastardly wicked a prize.” Yes, as all you poor bastards know by now, when I have decided to go for broke I will, in fact, be broke at the enormous cost to my psyche that this, the GRAND POOBAH of all prizes to be given this year, is going to cost not only me but the entire world!!! It is so STUPENDOUS that it will in fact be delivered over two holidays, The Boy’s Birthday and Christmas.
Honestly, the gauntlet has been thrown and I will not back away from this, the ultimate contest of prizes.
Since the recent career cratering, it is all I have left…