^^Dat cover wit muh Birdboy <3
What I Did Over the Holiday Break
By: Hunter M.
When I first got out on that boring Friday after slaving away over scantrons and after my pencil had successfully made a giant red crater in my middle finger, I thought that my break would be full of adventure and fun.
I was sadly mistaken.
Don’t get me wrong, I enjoyed the break. But it mostly consisted of lying around and gorging on sugar cookies and cheese rolls. That Saturday after the momentous Christmas Break release, I sat in bed trying to concoct something spectacular so that when I went back to school, I would be able to rub it on everyone’s faces and possibly I’d get a Most Awesome Christmas Break award.
Instead, I wrapped presents. Might I add that wrapping presents isn’t a task for some square. It is back breaking work. I also had to deal with the shoddy tools my mother provided me with- dull scissors, crummy tape, and flimsy wrapping paper. The arduous task took a good 2 hours. And that’s about as exciting my weekend got.
The following week, Christmas Week, I lazed around in bed, tried reading but was quickly bored with it, tried writing but Writer’s Block as been plaguing me for a few weeks so that ended in disaster; I tried to teach my dog new tricks but with his severe ADHD and short attention span, I quickly gave up on that, also. So I slept. A lot.
This was a problem with me because after a few days of taking six hour naps during the day, my hours were all off. Three o’clock in the morning became ‘bedtime’. Before I knew it, Christmas Eve Eve had round it’s ugly head, and I had to clean the entire house before all everyone came over for the annual Christmas party.
The grueling task took a good portion of my day and since, like my dog, I have attention issues and got distracted every few minutes which doubled the cleaning time. As I was cleaning, my stomach twisted at a horrid thought. For the first time in my entire life, I wasn’t in the Christmas Spirit.
The masses started to arrive baring gifts about an hour later after I’d pulled on my ugly Christmas sweater and tried to do something with my hair (which was nearly impossible since it had been up in a bun the second I got out of the shower the previous evening and was full of crazy crimps and waves).
The party was fun, in a calm kind of way. We exchanged gifts, ate our hearts out because supposedly, there was an unspoken rule that everyone must bring at least one food item, and then we watched Devil. Watching Devil on Christmas. Ironic, I know. But the movie was really good and the old lady ginger was really creepy.
After all the guests left the following morning, I tried to force the Christmas Spirit in me. I meandered around the house staring deeply into the Christmas tree and singing Christmas songs that I remembered the lyrics to. The Christmas Spirit was very defiant, though, and not once did it touch my soul.
I was filled with the Christmas blues. And being forced to spend Christmas Eve Evening with my step dad, his girlfriend, and her two full grown kids didn’t balm my vexation. I said about one whole word that evening, which was an accomplishment in itself. Christmas morning, I was woken up at the crack of dawn and driven over to my Grandma’s house where we devoured delicious biscuits and gravy, bacon, and eggs.
We opened presents, and then I was transported back over to my mom’s house, like I was just some sort of package, to open more presents. All in all, I got what I had asked for and if I didn’t get the item itself, I got money to buy it. I’m now living easy with my pockets fat with 300 dollars cash and gift cards to all my favorite stores.
The following Monday and Tuesday were uneventful. They mostly consisted of me eating, laying in bed, and freaking about out soccer practice on Wednesday.
And the stressing was all in good reason, because as soon as my shoes touched the turf at the stadium, we were being destroyed. Coach Henry managed to get this idea that making us run a mile until eight minutes, run half the stadium stairs and back, then running another half mile under five minutes without stopping or water breaks is just the kind of pick me up to get us all back in the soccer spirit. He was wrong. Then, to put the finished dollop of sweetness on the day, we scrimmaged Varsity.
My very least favorite thing to do.
We were killed, of course. And when I thought my hell was over, when I came back the next two days of practice, we played Varsity again… then again. And we were obliterated each time.
Author's Note: No, this isn't technically finished even though it could easily just end off like that, but whatevs. I don't especially feel like finishing it right now.