First Day of Christmas: Thanks for the pear tree, although I’m not sure what I am supposed to do with a pear tree in the winter. Not only that, when I opened the parcel, a partridge flew out and crapped all over my favorite David Cassidy album.

Day 2: What’s with the turtle doves? You know I have a small apartment, and the turtle doves are not acting at all happy together with that friggin’ partridge you sent yesterday.

Day 3: Enough with the damn birds already! What the f#@k am I supposed to do with three French hens? If I could catch the little buggers I would cook them, but they are running and jumping all over the goddamn apartment making a mess everywhere. BTW – I have no idea what the hens, doves, and that damn partridge are eating, but the apartment is a mess. Not only that, I can’t find my pet hamsters anywhere.

Day 4: My head feels like it is going to explode from the racket coming from those four f#@$% calling birds. You know I suffer from migraines and that I have recently been diagnosed with ornithophobia, yet you keep sending me birds. BIRDS! BIRDS! And more damned BIRDS!

Day 5: Five gold dick rings and a sarcastic note on what I should do with them is just plain rude.

Day 6: OK, I get it. You’re pissed off over something, but sending six geese dropping eggs all over the apartment is enough already. The SPCA showed up today with a search warrant, the neighbors are complaining to the landlord about the noise, and I need to get the place fumigated. I still can’t find my hamsters, the cats have gone berserk, and I can’t get three of the five dick rings out of where you told me to shove them.

Day 7: Oh my god! I hate swans and you sent me seven of the damn things. Do you have any idea what happens when you have seven swans living in your bathroom? Three are swimming in the bathtub, two are tits up in the sink, one is bobbing in the toilet bowl, and the seventh is unaccounted for. I have had enough. I am heading out to buy a hunting rifle so I can take care of the swans, geese, birds, hens, and doves. I have special plans for that damned partridge once I find the little f##%.

So ends Part 1 of The 13 F#@king Days of Christmas. Stay tuned for Part II to discover what really happens when you put 10 leaping lords in the same room with eight milking maids.

Note: This blog was inspired by “The 12 Days of Christmas” from The Cunning Linguist by Richard Lederer. Using movie parlance, it’s probably safer to say that this version is more of a re-visioning rather than a straight-up remake. Actually, this blog has very little in common with his version, other than the twelve gifts, but my lawyer keeps pestering me about copyright infringements, so I am just covering my butt on this one. BTW – it’s a funny book.

Dr. StrangeJob

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