The Christmas Spirit

It was about this time of year that TheTormentor died. MyLovedOne had been gone almost four years.

I was estranged from my family at the time. Aunt MyShitDoesn'tStink was the Executress of the will. I got a letter from TheTormentor's attorney; and a form saying I had received my inheritence. Sign the form, I was told, return it and I would get the check.

Let me run that by you again. Sign the form, saying I had received my inheritence, return it and I would get the check.

I sent a fax to the attorney:
I thought that I should make you aware of the fact that an asshole has somehow gotten ahold of your stationery. They used it to write me a letter. I hope you can track down the perpetrator of this horrendous act. Certainly that must be the case. An attorney of your high caliber would never send such a document as this.

Within about 15 minutes the telephone rang. My mother had just gotten off the phone with Aunt MyShitDoesn'tStink. Why wasn't I signing the form? And why had I sent that letter to the attorney? What in God's name did I think I was doing? Everyone else had done it; why wasn't I doing it? And why had I sent that letter to the attorney? I set the phone down and rolled a joint; when I picked it up she was still yapping.

My question was simple, why? Why would I sign a form saying I had received thousands of dollars when I had received nothing? Why should I trust either the attorney or my aunt? I wasn't doing it.

I write this as though she stopped talking; as though she took the time to listen to what I had to say; as though I spoke and waited for her to have another turn to shovel reindeer shit on my doorstep.

She was still ranting when I hung up the telephone. She called back, I didn't answer.

I called FinickyExaggerator, scored a quarter pound, and hit the road. I drove four hours; along the way I passed the exit I would have taken from the highway to go to my parents' house. I acknowledged it for a second with thought and blew on by.

I was, let's say less than nice to the people at the attorney's office. I made a point of telling the attorney that his client was a fucking prick and that he stank like skunk piss. I went down the street to the attorney's bank and cashed the check.

I went into Pittsburgh to visit my friend and his wife. The next day he went to his office and his wife went to work at the mall. I went to the mall, shopped, went to a bar for lunch that lasted through a few pitchers of beer and returned to the mall for some more shopping. When I was done I had spent half the money on gifts for my friends.

I spent a week and a half, traveling through three states, visiting friends; sleeping on their couches. I bought another quarter pound along the way. I had gifts for all of them.

It felt good spending TheTormentor's money doing nice things for other people and enjoying it as much as possible myself.

It's amazing how clear the roads are on Christmas Day. I left about 9 am; drove six hours home and still had a half ounce to break in my new bong.

I didn't go to see TheTormentor at the funeral home or go to the funeral. They were two goods weeks for me.