My husband is always talking about how the family rarely puts any effort into his Christmas gifts. And when I refer to “family,” I mean the cats, the dogs, the fish, and me. He always wants us to make him something special. Like a nice breakfast or dinner. Not like a pillow that is torn in half and has its stuffing strewn all over the living room. In our defense, we were trying to create a white Christmas, but whatever. He wasn’t buying it.
This year, we really wanted to go over the top.
Mike (pointing at something on the floor): “What the hell is that?”
Me: “You’re always saying that we don’t put any effort into gift giving, and we never make you anything, so the kids and I got together and made you something special.”
Mike: “You made me a pile of vomit? I asked for eggplant parmesan.”
Me: “Well, technically it started off as a pile of vomit. The dogs aren’t very creative. Then, the cats contributed a hairball and a marble they were playing with. And then I sprayed it with air freshener and threw a paper towel over it. Now it’s more of a work of art. Like a pukeasso. Get it? It’s abstract.”
Mike: “Hilarious. If this is your ploy to get me to clean that up, it’s not working. You’re still cleaning it. And then you’re making me eggplant parmesan.”
What’s the worst Christmas present you’ve ever received?