Funny Pearls Competition: How My Parents Met

I'm so happy to be joint winner of the Funny Pearls 100 word "Winter" competition:  https://funnypearls.com/2019/12/kath-whiting-how-my-parents-met/ . Excited to be part of a great website promoting humour by women!

Festive Story: Dancing with Death

Call 1: EB & SC

EB: Just confirming we’re all good for the 25th. I hadn’t heard from you, so wanted to check.

SC: Ah, yeah, sorry, I’m not feeling that festive this year so I’ve decided I’m not doing Christmas.

EB: What d’you mean? You make Christmas; you are Christmas.

SC: It’s come around too fast and I’m exhausted from work. I’m not getting any younger you know.

EB: None of us are getting any younger.

SC: I’ve been thinking for a while I don’t want to host. Maybe you could do it?

EB: I do Easter!

SC: Would it be so bad if we skipped a year? I’ll obviously still get some presents over to you.

EB: It’s not about the presents.

SC: Says the king of chocolate eggs!

EB: It’s more than that. It’s you and us and being together and celebrating and dancing and playing games and –

SC: I’m always knackered from work.

EB: You’re always brilliant.

SC: I’ve got to go, one of the reindeers has just swallowed a Buzz Lightyear.

Call 2: EB & TF

TF: Hi Bun, good to hear from you. Sorry I haven’t been in touch, I’ve been meaning to thank you. All that chocolate’s keeping me in trade. Been turning a tidy profit in teeth since Easter. Got you a great Christmas present.

EB: Tiff, I’m ringing about Christmas. Santa’s not himself. He doesn’t want to host this year. Says he’s tired of it.

TF: Well, we do take the piss slightly, I mean he always has us over.

EB: He said, and I quote, ‘I’m not feeling festive’.

TF: Oh, shit got serious, we can’t have him saying things like that. And Christmas at his is the only time I see my sister, weird fir tree fetishist that she is. Mad cow could have been a tooth dealer. So, Santa sounds down?

EB: Yeah, very down, and old, and demotivated.

TF: Have you spoken to Death? That sounds like his area.

EB: No, I didn’t want to bother him, he kind of spooks me. God, you don’t think…?TF: Death’s someone people listen to. Bloody hell, I’ll call him.

Call 3: TF and D

TF: Big D!
D: May I ask who this is?

TF: It’s your toothsomely favourite fairy, long time no see.

D: Last Christmas Day, wasn’t it?

TF: Well, let’s face it, mate, nobody wants you showing up uninvited, do they?

D: I suppose.

TF: Sorry, never thought about that. Do you get lonely?

D: (Laughs) No, my dear, I’m never lonely. To what do I owe this pleasure?

TF: It’s Santa, he’s not doing well.

D: Tiff, I don’t take commissions.

TF: I’m not talking to you professionally. He’s really miserable, doesn’t want to do Christmas. Could you talk to him?

D: You know how most of my conversations end, don’t you? I’m not exactly a merry-maker.

TF: No but you’re a bloody sight wiser than a bunny, and a lot more sensitive than a tooth-puller.

D: Very self-aware.TF: I know my limitations. Please D, I wouldn’t ask unless it was serious.

Call 4: D and SC

SC: Bunny, if that’s you I’m not interested. Half my elves are off sick and the other half are threatening to strike. And I’ve got flying reindeer foals who think it’s fun to use me as poopy target practice.

D: It’s not Bunny

SC: Death?

D: Hello old friend, I hear Christmas is off.

SC: Er yes, I don’t want to host this year. I’ll obviously fulfil my work obligations.

D: Our existence can feel relentless can’t it?

SC: Yes, talk about work-related stress. Billions of children to deliver presents to.

D: A tall order. And a blink of an eye later I’m escorting those same children to their ends. You know, when people talk to me about their lives, their happiest memories are often of Christmas. You bring so much joy­.

SC: But it can feel like there’s no room for anything else. I’m not allowed to be sad; it’s tiring.

D: If you’re tired I could take you on a journey.

SC: Oh, no thanks, I mean, not yet.

D: What about…would you like to do a job swap?

SC: What?

D: I bring peace sometimes, but I create a lot of fear. I’d like to give joy for a change. And you’d be able to be sad.

(Trying not to laugh) You, um, look a bit scary. And a bit thin.

D: I could wear a false beard. Listen to this; (monotonous) ho ho ho!

SC: (Laughing) It’s probably best not, sorry. And the reindeer are a bit of a handful. To be honest I don’t think I could do your job, all that fear and finality. Maybe being Santa isn’t so bad, a hell of a lot more fun than being Death.

D: Yes, mine is a melancholic job satisfaction. You know, your dos are the only time I let my hair down. And dance.

SC: Well, for you then, my friend, it’s back on. Let’s make it fancy dress, you can come as me!

Learning to Create

We are learning to make fire. Matches and flint and lighter fuel. Or two sticks. Whatever it takes.

We are learning words and grammar and cursive flowing. Numbers creep in 2. Whatever it takes.

We are making fire. Burning down the unpainted stairs. Throwing handfuls of popcorn to add to the explosive wonder of flames.

We are learning fire. Hot glow faces. Keeping hands warm but not burnt, jumping back at snaps. Feeding sticks and watched them snaffled up.

We are making. Pictures out of words, meaning out of scribbles. Headaches, jewels, sense and nonsense.

We are. A community of creatives. And that is just about enough.

- Inspired by Habitation by Margaret Atwood