Everyone always always always asks me, "Jessie, what’s your favorite holiday?" And I always always always reply back in my usual happy, chipper tone, "Christmas!"

I love Christmas, the season of suffering. It all starts off when my family digs up our dark voodoo magic spellbooks from the secret dungeon beneath our house. We have to keep them locked away in there because they’re so damn powerful that they have actually ACHIEVED SENTIENCE. Like what the sam heckie?

But I know that they are beings just like humans. One actually texted me this text, look: Hey b***h when you getting us the f**k out of this dungeon. We’re hungry………….. ;)

I wasn’t surprised that a magical spell book of arcane dARKNESS was texting me but more concerned about its foul language. I actually had to see my guidance counselor about it, because it triggered me so much, but she just said, “Jessie, it’s an ancient, arcane textbook of SHADOWY DARKNESS; what the hell did you expect it to say? 'Hey :) :) :) What’s up? :) :)' You stupid af.’”

My guidance counselor and I don’t really get along all that well. When I tried to schedule my classes for next year she attacked me with a knife because I said I didn’t need to take another year of math (it would be my 2nd), because “I already know 2+2 and all that stupid jazz.”

Luckily, the police apprehended her and took off to jail, so now she communicates me via Skype from her 24 hour isolated jail cell.

Best of all, I ended up not taking that math class. Screw Geometry!

Meanwhile, Dahlia (my eldest sister) and I brought out the other Christmas decorations from our creepy, swampy basement. We set them up outside in the front yard. Some of the rusty spikes on them cut deep into my hands and knees but I kinda liked it. Like. Is that weird?

Blood looks pretty, especially when it’s all over my pale hands and fingers and legs and in my hair and eyes and nose. All over me, actually. And when I go to take a shower, it’s all I can bathe in.

But hey! At least I don’t have any wrinkles. It does wonders for the skin, everybody knows. Just ask Countess Elizabeth Báthory, who bathed in the blood of virgins. She got arrested but damn gurl! She looked fine as f***.

Seeing the Christmas decorations turn on that night, with their fiery gold lights illuminating my not-snow covered yard, was a vision of what could surely be Hell. The decorations were of humans crawling on their hands and knees screaming, as Divine Punishment ripped apart their bodies, killing them not once, but four times over!

It was magical.

My Mom and Jean (my youngest sister) hung up our beautiful Christmas lights across our roof. We turned them on, and they caused an electromagnetic pulse that knocked out all electronic devices within Our Glorious Nation (Praise be to the Supreme Leader!). It was kinda bothersome, especially since those jets and planes suddenly started crashing to the ground but this is what the season is ALL about, right?

Death.

Meanwhile, my other Mom got working on those dark heathen voodoo spells. She said some funny words like broccoli, contraception, astrophysics, glue, lint, and my favorite: code division multiple access system. With each word, the aura in the room darkened to my favorite color………PINK.

Not Black.

Pink.

We prepped our fireplace for the ancient sacrificial ritual. It’s scary. The way it works is that we write down names of everyone we know and then put those names in a hollowed out human skull and then randomly pick one. Last year, it was our neighbor’s six year old boy, Bobby Tom. Poor Bobby Tom.

At least he tasted good.

It was really delicious. Especially because he was still young, so he had all that baby fat. And he was a virgin, too, and we all know that virgins taste better than regular humans. It freaks me out when I’m eating a human and then I start thinking of all the weird things that have been in their bodies, like d*cks and sh*t and all that other weird…………...…………...…………..sex stuff.

This year, we eagerly held our breaths, wondering who the victim would be. The victim absolutely must be burned alive in our fireplace to appease the Old Ones.

Never mess with the Old Ones.

Anyway! This year the victim turned out to be You. Congrats! I’m really happy it’s You because honestly, I never even cared about you anyway. I can’t wait to….well….you’ll see.

Hehehehehehehehehehe……

After the ritual, my sisters and I go out and go Christmas caroling, when we magically enchant household objects to attack people in their sleep. Last year, my favorite one was where we turned Maya Silberman’s bed into a sewer pit. That was the best.

She fled town that night, crying and sobbing like a little baby. Waaa waaa.

But the best is the day after, Christmas!!!, when we get to open our presents. Last year, I got the right eye of my guidance counselor. I’m not sure how my moms got it, but it was #1 on my Christmas list. #2 was that new How to Magically Seduce Any Guy…..for Free! Extended 16th Edition (Now With More Amnesia Spells to Wipe Away Those Pesky Traumatic Memories to prevent the Police from Incriminating You!).

I can’t wait to use it.

#3 was a body. I don’t why I put that on there. I guess I was in a mood. I still got it though, I always get EVERYTHING I WANT. The funny thing is is that I have no idea whose body it is. It doesn’t have a face.

#4 was History of the Old Ones by Dr. Vivian Darkblossom, Hellspawn of the Nebula and Crusader of Darkness.

I’ve already read the entire book five times over, and it is the best. My favorite god is Shagaloth the UnConquerable, the moving pile of oil that represents the corporate greed of that nasty country (America). It has 5 bright green eyes, wailing, flailing tentacles and a perfectly circular mouth filled with rotating, vibrating, spinning razor teeth.

I summoned him once just ‘cause, but I don’t remember what happened. I blacked out, and the next thing I knew I was in a hospital, and the police were shaking their heads and the city had been destroyed.

We needed to update the city’s public transportation anyway. Some of the buses had started flying off cliffs, but nobody could ever find them after they flew off the cliffs. They just kept flying…….all the way to the Sun.

My two middle sisters, Valerie and Celia, were on a bus going to a concert of Gregorian chanting, and then they called me in a panic saying that their bus had gone off a cliff and was flying and was heading out of the atmosphere and then I heard screaming and then more screaming as they left the stratosphere and then choking and then it was cold and dark I was bored so I hung up.

Anyway, Christmas may seem like all fun and games of black voodoo magic and getting back at your enemies by summoning the Forgotten Gods to destroy their homes and pillage their families and destroy everything in existence until even their love themselves isn’t enough of a light against the oppressive darkness that surrounds them. But it’s not about that at all, though it is fun.

It’s also not about the ceremonial execution of war criminals from the constant war between Our Glorious Nation and the heathen, barbaric, disgusting, aberrant, repulsive, vile, repugnant, desecrated, ugly Nations that exist outside our borders that worship the Gods of Light instead of the DARK ONES.

But it’s actually not about any of that at all.

Christmas is all about the birth of our Most Holy Savior………………....the Anti-Christ. And His Dark Master, the Lord of the Night, Supreme Ruler of Hell: Sally!!!!! :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :) :)

I hope one day to appease her enough with our sacrifices so that she stops looking at me sleeping from my bedroom closet. Or my mirror. Or my shower. Or my bath tub. Or my cereal bowl. Or my soup bowl. I even saw her on my Prezi presentation on the Civil War. She was on all the slides.

All of them.

Made for a pretty awkward History project presentation, lemme tell ya! I still got an A though.

Anyway, that’s my favorite holiday. But maybe I should tell you about my second favorite, Easter: the season of despair, next? Hehehe!