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A Christmas Message from Metal Ed, December 24, 2002
Guest_TSMAdmin_*
post Jan 17 2003, 04:06 PM
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Christmas has always been a real special time of year for me, even since my pact with Satan. There's somethin about wakin up real early and openin a present--like a real bitchin' album or a weapon or one of them videos of our neighbors fuckin that my dad used to make--that really warms my heart and puts a bounce in my mullet. Some of my best memories is from the holiday season. I remember being little and sittin around on Christmas Eve, waitin for Santa to come till my daddy would told me to get to bed. Then, every year, daddy would catch me peekin for a glimpse of St. Nick and chase me around the house with a switch. Back then was great times for my family. Momma was always real happy on account of her job and that real nice boss of hers, who would always let her stay over when her car would break down every week. That thing was a piece of shit, but we never could figure out what was wrong with it. Daddy was usually too drunk to beat me, so that was pretty righteous. The holiday season was when it would all come together, too. Momma would make somethin real nice, like some turkey loaf and Hungry Jack potaters. My mouth would all get to waterin and daddy would get that real hungry look in his eyes, like when he was about to pull out the switch. We'd eat and talk and laugh, just like one of them families on TV. After dinner, I'd sit around and think of all the dogs I could shoot with a new pistol or how all the chicks at school would dig a big-ass Maiden patch on my jean jacket. Then momma and daddy would head back to their room and crank up some early Van Halen or Aerosmith with the door shut. I figger they was probly talkin about how much I was gonna enjoy their gifts, but they wouldn't never tell me when they came out. At that point, daddy was usually pretty drunk and he'd get to talkin real loud. One year, he sat me on his knee and told me story. "Ed," he said. "I'm gonna tell ya a story. It's about a small town girl, livin in a lonely world. She took the midnight train goin anywhere. Then there was this city boy. Born and raised in South Detroit. He took the midnight train goin anywhere." He went on for a while, but the part that really got me all teary eyed and shit was when he said, "Working hard to get my fill. Everybody wants a thrill. Payin anything to roll the dice just one more time. Some will win. Some will lose. Some were born to sing the blues. That damn movie never ends. It goes on and on and on and on. But don't stop believin. Hold on to that feelin. Streetlight. People." Then he got up on the coffee table and played a pretty bitchin' air guitar solo. I got to bangin my head pretty good and we was really bonding until he threw momma's ashtray through the window and started punchin the ceiling. I ain't never forgot that, though, and I think about it every Christmas, specially since he had that industrial accident.

I'll admit that Christmas ain't been the same since daddy died. I still stay up and wait for Santa, but I usually get pretty loaded and fall asleep with my head in the fireplace. I figger that's why I ain't got nothin in a while. There ain't no Christmas feast, neither, on account of me not havin any money. Me and Matt usually split a bag of Cheetos, dependin on whether or not one of us is involved with a big chick who'll buy us somethin else. But I still love Christmas cuz I ain't forgot about the reason for the presents and shit. Whenever I'm feelin that it ain't worth it no more round this time of year, I think of that little baby who was born over 2,000 years ago in Bethesda. I think of that little baby gettin right up out of that manger and walkin across the desert for 40 days and 40 nights to bring silver and gold to...uh...Moses or some shit. I ain't real clear on all the details. I think of that little baby bein all cool and shit and I remember that Christmas ain't just about presents or lights or gettin real drunk. It's about that little baby who grew up to be Jesus and how he used to drop shit down people's chimneys. That reminds me that I love Christmas, even if it don't always love me. So merry Christmas to all y'all that ain't Jews or Kwaanzans or whatever. Hope your celebration is half as magical as mine's fixing to be.

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