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Abstract

p;utm_medium=referral&utm_content=creditCopyText">Unsplash</a>, slightly edited by author</figcaption></figure>Then this one time things were getting hot and heavy with a woman I worked with. One of those things that happens when a city-wide power outage traps two people in an elevator, you know? Sitting there in the glow of the emergency light, not knowing when we’d be saved — makes you horny. I don’t wanna brag, but I reached orgasm way before she did. I’m pretty good at that.Anyway.When she got pregnant, and wasn’t 100% sure who the father was, I told her to abort it. But there was a 50% chance it wasn’t mine so she wouldn’t. She also didn’t want her husband finding out, and that didn’t sit right with me. She made me promise not to tell him, and I promised. Still — I needed to say something.I hadn’t met him before, but I knew what he looked like. One day I called into work and I followed her husband all over town looking for an opportunity to speak with him. That opportunity came when he used the restroom at Wendy’s. I took the urinal next to his.“Hey Greg, how’s it going? You know how Mary gave birth to Jesus on Christmas Day and Joseph raised a kid who wasn’t his? And that kid turned out to be the Savior? Just keep that in mind when your wife gives birth.”He tried to speak to me, but I yanked his pants down to trip him up and ran out of Wendy’s. Ran away from that whole ordeal. Even quit my job so I wouldn’t have to see my coworker anymore.A couple years later I played Santa at a mall and my former coworker, her husband, and the child came to take pictures. They didn’t recognize me. The beard kept me safe from discovery. I had the photo people print out an additional copy and give it to me. I like to look at it sometimes, that unintentional family photo. It makes me feel I did the right thing by running away from the situation.The kid looks just like me, and I am not a handsome man.<h2 id="c31c">More Supple Words From This Supple Author</h2><div id="f2d1" class="link-block"> <a href="https://readmedium.com/rogue-a-i-ruins-t-shirt-company-with-meme-designs-foot-fetish-e889f82c9d63"> <div>

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    </div><p id="fab2"><a href="https://metaldumpcan.medium.com/subscribe"><i>Open up your inbox to a writer in need</i></a><i>. I may not autofill on Google, but I can autofill your inbox. If you aren’t a Medium member and want more of my supple words, <a href="https://metaldumpcan.medium.com/membership">sign up here</a>!</i></p><p id="5e39"><b>You following me on Twitter? No? What are you, dumb? <a href="https://twitter.com/MetalDumpCan">Get over here, you goofball!</a></b></p><p id="39d2">Send all inquiries and howdy-dos to: <b>[email protected].</b></p></article></body>

Wreath What You Sow

Don’t Let the Christmas Season Keep You From Abandoning Your Family

The best gift to leave your loved ones is the gift of leaving your loved ones

Photo by cottonbro studio from Pexels, edited by author

My parents got divorced when I was a kid. I remember the day I found out. Dad came down to the basement, where my brother and I were playing. If I recall correctly, we were acting out our favorite scene from The Thing. Anyway, Dad called us over to him and put a hand on each of our shoulders, and asked, “You boys love Christmas, right?”

We nodded.

“Well, what if instead of one Christmas every year, you got two?”

Seemed like a pretty sweet deal to us.

The lengthy custody battle watered down the excitement some. The courts deemed my brother and I a “bonded pair,” and made us stand before our parents in court to choose one to live with. Dad was a drunk and got really weepy when all boozed up. Mom was a drunk too, but when she got boozed up she made pancakes and bought us stuff. We chose mom.

Dad sulked out of the courtroom, and we haven’t seen him since. So, we still only had one Christmas a year.

When I went through my own divorce, I broke the news to my daughter in much the same way. We had a tea party, with little cookies and everything. She loved those little tea parties. I did not like them, which is why I chose that moment to drop the news.

“Hey honey, you know how Christmas only comes around once a year? Well from now on, so will I!”

Photo by krakenimages on Unsplash, slightly edited by author

Then this one time things were getting hot and heavy with a woman I worked with. One of those things that happens when a city-wide power outage traps two people in an elevator, you know? Sitting there in the glow of the emergency light, not knowing when we’d be saved — makes you horny. I don’t wanna brag, but I reached orgasm way before she did. I’m pretty good at that.

Anyway.

When she got pregnant, and wasn’t 100% sure who the father was, I told her to abort it. But there was a 50% chance it wasn’t mine so she wouldn’t. She also didn’t want her husband finding out, and that didn’t sit right with me. She made me promise not to tell him, and I promised. Still — I needed to say something.

I hadn’t met him before, but I knew what he looked like. One day I called into work and I followed her husband all over town looking for an opportunity to speak with him. That opportunity came when he used the restroom at Wendy’s. I took the urinal next to his.

“Hey Greg, how’s it going? You know how Mary gave birth to Jesus on Christmas Day and Joseph raised a kid who wasn’t his? And that kid turned out to be the Savior? Just keep that in mind when your wife gives birth.”

He tried to speak to me, but I yanked his pants down to trip him up and ran out of Wendy’s. Ran away from that whole ordeal. Even quit my job so I wouldn’t have to see my coworker anymore.

A couple years later I played Santa at a mall and my former coworker, her husband, and the child came to take pictures. They didn’t recognize me. The beard kept me safe from discovery. I had the photo people print out an additional copy and give it to me. I like to look at it sometimes, that unintentional family photo. It makes me feel I did the right thing by running away from the situation.

The kid looks just like me, and I am not a handsome man.

More Supple Words From This Supple Author

Rogue A.I. Ruins T-Shirt Company With Meme Designs, Foot Fetish

Do Androids Dream of Electric Feet?

medium.com

The Road to Hell Is Paved With Broken Bones and Compromise

A surreally good story

medium.com

A Childhood Without Video Games Is Like a Body Without Skin

The summer I spent playing the greatest video game ever made

medium.com

Open up your inbox to a writer in need. I may not autofill on Google, but I can autofill your inbox. If you aren’t a Medium member and want more of my supple words, sign up here!

You following me on Twitter? No? What are you, dumb? Get over here, you goofball!

Send all inquiries and howdy-dos to: [email protected].