The Art Of Regifting

First off, thanks to all of you for the birthday wishes. I was going to reply to each of you via the comments, but since so many of you took time to wish me a happy birthday the task now seems a bit too daunting for a lazy Government worker like myself.. So thanks to one and all.

Christmas Day is almost here and my plan was to tell the last of Santa Saga today, but as is often the case with my plans things haven't worked out the way I envisioned.

The story I wanted to tell simply isn't working for me and at this point I'm giving up on it. Maybe next year.

But so as not to leave y'all out in the cold, I'm going to tell you a different story with a Christmas theme.

The year was 2001, early December. My wife and I, needing to do a bit of Christmas shopping left my son with her parents and headed out. upon our return several hours later my father-in-law was quite jovial in telling us how much our child enjoyed sardines and kippered herring. Apparently, the two of them had shared several cans through the course of the night.
Now my father-in-law was quite enthused about the diaper that was sure to come. He smiled and patted me on the back saying, "That one will be fun to change."

Dirty diapers are never fun. Dirty diapers chocked full of recycled fish are even worse. Shark fisherman wouldn't have chummed with the black oily substance that come out of my son, but then again they wouldn't have had to. Had we lived on the coast all matter of carnivorous marine life would have grown legs and crawled ashore to seek out the odoriferous excrement. Such was its potency.

But I'm not one to let sleeping dogs lie, or smelly fish sink as in this case. I gagged my way through the changing, grabbed a Folgers can with an air-tight lid and popped the rancid bundle inside. I then wrapped the package up and waited the THREE-LONG-WEEKS till Christmas Eve.
My unsuspecting father-in-law unwrapped the present, and immediately popped the lid off his present. Let me tell you the stink had festered and grown to the point everyone in the room suffered. But he got it full force in the face, and to this day he seems a bit reluctant to open any gift that bears my name on the tag.

Sometimes Santa forgets the Ho! Ho! Ho! and goes for He! He! He!