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From: HMS Victor Victorian <victorvictorian@hushunomail.com>
Newsgroups: alt.fan.utb.naughty-boy
Subject: The Christmas Spirit and All That
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Date: Sun, 01 Dec 2013 14:46:25 -0700
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Dear Friends,
The Christmas holidays are upon us now, with every altruistic charity
and enterprising business doing their most to empty our bank accounts
so much that one struggles to concentrate o'er the din to be reminded
and to recall the kind and sentimental essence of the season.
I have had the deepest and fondest affections for Christmas since
being a very small tyke, when all seemed magical and pure. Indeed, as
a boy I was so excited to see what Saint Nicholas had brought me on
Christmas morning that on Christmas Eve I could hardly wait to get
into bed, and remained so excited that once I did, I was unable to
sleep, however hard I tried! I would begin to cry and Mummy would
open the door to ask what in heaven's name was wrong.
"I can't sleep!" I sniffled, "I can't hardly wait for Christmas to
come!"
"Now stop that whimpering," she'd curtly reply, "You'll be off soon
enough!"
And, of course, she was right.
This Christmas I am melancholy, which brings these memories back ever
more poignantly, for I've lost my little chum.
Some weeks back, very early one Sunday morning, I was surprised to
hear my door chime. I opened the door and there he stood. I let him
in immediately and he followed me to the kitchen. As he stepped up to
me, I sat down and looked at him. All he wore seemed to be an
extremely large gray hoodie (the term most popular now, I suppose) and
a pair of T-bar sandals. Now the hoodie was filthy, spattered with
dirt and drink and food from several previous meals ... and God only
knows what else.
"Well, look at you!" I grinned.
"I borrowed it from my older sister," my boy explained. Clearly his
older sister was of substantial girth.
Without a thought, I unzipped the soiled coat. Beneath, he wore an
old yellow T-shirt, extremely wrinkled, and a pair of equally wrinkled
gym shorts. My first inclination was to pull him out of those dirty
clothes and toss him in the bath. Of course, I didn't.
"What are you doing here so early, son?" I asked him.
"I wanted to give you a hug," he said simply, and then wrapped his
arms around my shoulders,"And to say that I think I want to buy you a
present for Christmas."
"Well," I smiled,"That's sweet of you, but all you need to give me is
your smile and a hug."
"Still," he replied very pensively, "I think I'd like to."
So it was.
Most Sincerely,
HMS Victor Victorian, NP-g18
God Save the Queen.
God Bless the Prince of Wales.
God Preserve the Windsors.
Rule Britannia!
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