As Your Christmas Tree, I Beg You Not To Dress My Dying Corpse In Disney Ornaments

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wish list. As I heard the faint strains of “Oh Tannenbaum, Oh Tannenbaum” coming from your car radio on our drive here, I pictured being strewn in red satin ribbons, gilded with golden ball ornaments, anointed with a few candles even, fire hazard be damned! I’m meant to be regal and majestic. Nothing about a 16th century German carol screams “Stitch figurine that plays ‘Hawaiian Roller Coaster Ride’ once an hour.”If old-school Noël isn’t your thing, I’m a flexible pine. You want a flashy modern tree? Slap some fiber optics on me and let’s light it up like Rockefeller Center. If you’re dead set on cartoon ornaments, we can compromise with the classics: Rudolph, or Frosty The Snowman. As long as I don’t look like a five year old’s birthday party threw up on me, I’ll be happy.Let’s address the non-Dumbo elephant in the room: You don’t have kids. This is for you, and I don’t say that to shame you. You do you! That said, the “Naughty List” Tinker Bell ornament is making me uncomfortable and I’m asking you to take it off of me.The truth is I get one shot at Christmas. I’m dying for your holiday cheer, sacrificing myself for your yuletide; this tr

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ee stand is my crucifix. Come January my needles will start to drop, like the petals of Beast’s enchanted rose, until I am discarded to the curb. Would you put your ailing grandmother in a Tigger suit? Of course not! So why paint my stump like Eyeore’s tail?All I ask is that while I’m here, in your sitting room, I am treated with respect. No Cheshire Cat tree skirt. No Mickey Mouse nativity on the mantle. Yes, I know that’s not tree decor, but I have to look at it all day and it weirds me out. How did Minnie birth such a realistic Jesus?Oh no. Please, not the ears. The placement of the final decoration is the sartorial climax of my short green life. I am a Douglas Fir, the quintessential Christmas conifer, for God’s sake! These boughs are a horticultural luxury, you philistine. I’m supposed to be crowned with a glorious adornment, like the star of Bethlehem or the angel Gabriel, not a pair of novelty mouse ears made from cheap sequins and labor violations! You know what? I’m done drooping to your childish whims. I’ll use these stupid Olaf lights to burn this Disney Store mausoleum to the GROUND. Take that and roast your chestnuts on it.</article></body>

As Your Christmas Tree, I Beg You Not To Dress My Dying Corpse In Disney Ornaments

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Ever since I was a seedling, Christmas has been my destiny. Though it might seem macabre, I was never happier than the day that you chopped me down, wrapped my body in nylon netting, and strapped me to the roof of your Ford Fiesta. I was born be decked in festive family heirlooms. That’s why I am begging you: in this, my final chapter, do not decorate me with these tacky Disney-themed tree ornaments.

The holiday season is full of wonder. Soft snowfall, woodland critters, glittering icicles– all fantastic themes for tree decor, by the way. I’m supposed to be regal and majestic, an homage to both the solemnity of advent and the revelry of pagans in the winter forest. You know what’s tasteful? Spray-on snow. Let’s put down the Goofy garland and consider our other options.

This menagerie of “vintage” Little Mermaid dinglehoppers was not on my Christmas wish list. As I heard the faint strains of “Oh Tannenbaum, Oh Tannenbaum” coming from your car radio on our drive here, I pictured being strewn in red satin ribbons, gilded with golden ball ornaments, anointed with a few candles even, fire hazard be damned! I’m meant to be regal and majestic. Nothing about a 16th century German carol screams “Stitch figurine that plays ‘Hawaiian Roller Coaster Ride’ once an hour.”

If old-school Noël isn’t your thing, I’m a flexible pine. You want a flashy modern tree? Slap some fiber optics on me and let’s light it up like Rockefeller Center. If you’re dead set on cartoon ornaments, we can compromise with the classics: Rudolph, or Frosty The Snowman. As long as I don’t look like a five year old’s birthday party threw up on me, I’ll be happy.

Let’s address the non-Dumbo elephant in the room: You don’t have kids. This is for you, and I don’t say that to shame you. You do you! That said, the “Naughty List” Tinker Bell ornament is making me uncomfortable and I’m asking you to take it off of me.

The truth is I get one shot at Christmas. I’m dying for your holiday cheer, sacrificing myself for your yuletide; this tree stand is my crucifix. Come January my needles will start to drop, like the petals of Beast’s enchanted rose, until I am discarded to the curb. Would you put your ailing grandmother in a Tigger suit? Of course not! So why paint my stump like Eyeore’s tail?

All I ask is that while I’m here, in your sitting room, I am treated with respect. No Cheshire Cat tree skirt. No Mickey Mouse nativity on the mantle. Yes, I know that’s not tree decor, but I have to look at it all day and it weirds me out. How did Minnie birth such a realistic Jesus?

Oh no. Please, not the ears. The placement of the final decoration is the sartorial climax of my short green life. I am a Douglas Fir, the quintessential Christmas conifer, for God’s sake! These boughs are a horticultural luxury, you philistine. I’m supposed to be crowned with a glorious adornment, like the star of Bethlehem or the angel Gabriel, not a pair of novelty mouse ears made from cheap sequins and labor violations! You know what? I’m done drooping to your childish whims. I’ll use these stupid Olaf lights to burn this Disney Store mausoleum to the GROUND. Take that and roast your chestnuts on it.