Saturday, December 25, 2010

A misguided X-mas story

Holland, Amsterdam,
25 Dec. 2010.

I walk through an eery winterly Westerpark, still dark at this early hour, two big fat crows screaming at me from their safe haven up in a tree, anything foul and dirty in their crow language making me realise as countless times before, these creatures actually hate us, the human race...

They have no respect for what I am doing here at this early hour, out in the cold, away from my antiquated heater placed strategically right next to my bed, the sleep still in my eyes, my head only awake enough to place one foot in front of the other...

This god-forsaken early hour out here in the midst of King Winter, at this time of the year, X-mas morning and freezing my *ss off while on the way to the Westerpark petting zoo, on the way to my volunteer job of no pay but hard work and very little recognition from Miss Domenica, The Chief as some people call her in my neighborhood though I hope for the sake of dear peace she will never find out, the CEO of this heaven for kids and little goats alike...

As every year, volunteering for X-mas morning, trying hard to forget my self-chosen solitary life style on this day of togetherness, by shovelling horse manure and cow dung all morning...

I try to make my thoughts go inward while I struggle to get through this blanket of snow, try hard to ignore the protestations of black-colored members of the winged race, back to that self-proclaimed misguided martyr who came out of ancient Nazareth and who died so miserably 2000 years ago but whose birth and subsequent messy death is still celebrated like it was the biggest event ever...

Sh*t, five hours of hard work ahead of me but no pay, no recognition from the lady-boss, aka Miss Domenica, aka The Chief, just a nutcase out of Palastine with a 2000 year old ego problem disturbing my mental peace, a couple of fat crows letting me know what they think of us, the doomed human race...

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