Christmas. The hottest period of the year.
Everything that follows is his fault .
You can feel it the best time or worst of the year. What gifts, of madness in the streets, racing fast towards the metro closes, which opens to the shop and where you have to find the last example of that gift as a success. The period in which all become more charitable, platitudes, affection, persons found that faith, when all turned their gaze upward to see if any bow down, is hardly ever done, but this is also a time of hope, the good that is in us, the promises made to ourselves, the kind that we have maintained, the kind that we have forgotten and those who, wanting or not, we have maintained.
Forgiveness is of this period, for ourselves and for others. Not for everyone.
The cold fogs the windows and the fireplace is fueled by smiles, memories, sweet nuts and split the old kitchen table. Mandarins and chocolate, sugar and bubbles of champagne. Red nose and your lottery number to be released the next day, if ever, remember a loud voice "... unfortunately the game ...", yes, it is also the time of clichés, even those that use all the associations that help the world help us, help us, from that Christmas is ... " as if for people who need help for Christmas was a very different time (not enter into the question).
Without being aware, even large ones, begin to believe the gentleman with the red suit and beard, what works one night a year, he, with the means of transport that is the envy of all those who love speed. Rome-Tokyo 15 minutes. It would be so nice to travel with him, as fast as a blink, a breath you are in Kenya, another between the kangaroos are in Australia. Belts fastened, heated seats and reindeer strengthened. People dreaming does not cost anything and this is the moment when everything is really possible. Comes and ends, rather vanishes like the sound of a bell, like a sneeze breaks the silence and scent free as air. There's a world behind every desire and our man who is preparing for a year and works one day only knows. Arrives, often in ways different from how we imagined, it does not change the result, look what is true is true if you want, unless you want it, everything is exactly like yesterday, like tomorrow, as always. If you like, go ahead. How
return to play, how to pretend to be true, but believing really, poke fun and feel on the skin that is not a game you were doing so for some time.
Are you a serious? Send seriousness on holiday, send it to ski. Are you a gay? Put your hand on the shoulder of those who laugh a little. Trasmettila. Are you a thought? Blows on the sugar and you'll see that, gently, go away, at least for that night.
Does it seem like Christmas? It is not so long as you want? This is not your Christmas? Ok, you are so angry. Ok, maybe you are also right. We do not ask to build a new one. Take a ride in that of others. Make a guest, assaggiane a bit. You are offering him. It is not yours, quiet. Educated, grab a slice, maybe you like it, and if it happens, you'll see, you'll be offered another.
Someone wrote:
"The only wasted the time of life is when you think you are alone."
E 'written in a book, "The Five People You Meet in Heaven", the title is from scratch, even the pages on your life. It can be a great gift.
obvious question. Response variable.
The game began about a month before. A simple game, too old, but it is precisely what we must aim. It can be done in any situation, after returning from the cinema, the supermarket, just woken up in the morning, coming from the bathroom, wet shower, just before going out the front door, or hitting with the knuckles on the window and face absolutely naive to take his hands behind his back in front of the eyes of the beholder. Forearms crossed, fists clenched. "Choose?"
The game will go on, and each time there must be something different, silly, useful, useless, if you want even a crumb of bread, as long as there is something, at least in one of two fists. If you choose the empty fist, you can open the other, and to grant the same surprise, come on, be patient.
Who is not familiar with the plan before, and this renederà the thing for you, I think, terribly beautiful.
The game goes on, almost to bother those who are subjected, but the hope is that if he gets the "joke" it takes almost as a habit and that, failing for a few days, end to ask.
Everyone, then, should tailor the time even if the low profile makes surprise in dementia, terribly surprising, and, in theory, should there be any added value.
That evening, after returning from work, returned from the cinema, leaving the supermarket, from the bathroom, the shower, wet and fragrant bubble bath, red eyes with soap, hair dripping, or simply tired of the week you should feel that the time has come.
may become slightly more serious, but what we are doing, you know they are going to do, you are unlikely to give this possibility. In theory it's time You should remember forever, for life, hoping it's the only time (as times better cross your fingers).
Well, this time the game will bring serious and devastating.
left hand, only a handful of fingers curled in on themselves. Right Hand
a thin circle, Girod, around which, by that time, rotate your whole life.
"Choose?"
This time the question, implicitly, they hide another.
.... Just a suggestion, no claim of ownership of the idea.
So anyone know any better.
Santa Claus is a balloon
not make ends meet. It was college days, books and the unbridled pursuit of independence, one that, in those days, played with so much noise that the box was opened at the end of the evening, one from which the principal took your "night" anyway thanks.
"missing?"
"Poor thing."
Pazienza, at 02:00 (when you were lucky) to get back home.
But if this were a blog or whatever, who writes only the waiter would, in fact, it is not, and this is not the story that he tells you. The blog is on the piece tonight (bit of enthusiasm is no justification).
we said, this story is inspired by a distance in December, he, the month of Christmas, the one that, like it or not, we are approaching, and the frenzy salt, the snow falls, people sclera in the streets and those living in the advertising world has already heard arriving last month.
Two boys, without neither art nor part, accept a job offer seem beneficial. It was a job about a fortnight, there was not much to do but be nice and walk around some shops and encourage, through some gadget colorful, fragrant or delicious, people to come to spend part of their thirteenth.
"bullshit. Fatica zero and all gain. You see that in January we do." Never
words will be most popular.
The hapless pair, who arrived before the first shop is equipped with a suitcase enormous weight of some ten or fifteen pounds, black, even slightly dirty. Opening it either do not believe their eyes. The party was the least cumbersome heavy, like a shell of hard plastic colored, white, red and black were the colors that jumped immediately to the eye. Extracted from the plastic bag, there was a sort of giant cell at the bottom, about the size of the cylinders that use divers to go underwater. Curiosity urged young people to understand what was the first well casing that once appeared unrolled in all its fullness, in all its glory and all its magic. It was a wonderful silhouette of Santa Claus. The boys made two and two together and realized that the battery would serve to inflate them. They would then stand and did not put away, attracting the most attention.
Just like the plot of the hugely popular series "Murder, She Wrote" where the first convicted murderess has never really, so the guys would not have guessed, the first clue, the real functioning of Santa Claus. To reveal it would be two things, a hinge behind the back of the evil Santa and the fact that the batteries were attached to what was, in effect, a backpack, at the end of which he was a fan. The batteries that operate the fan, therefore, would keep the swollen shell. But he had to stay inside, otherwise the structure of at least two feet would have collapsed by the weight.
Summary: A person must physically remain within the father, legarselo feet and stay upright, motionless, not even able to rest on the wall to bear the weight of the cylinders.
now the boys were there. The contract was signed and, however, did not seem so difficult to achieve on December 23.
One afternoon, while one was inside the Santa handing out candy and the other with honey, a gentleman, obviously questionable verbal habits, seeing my dad move, asked if there was someone inside. The answer of course was positive and he, without a shot being fired, expelled from his mouth something that, arguably, his brain could not retain
"Oh, definitely put c'avranno an immigrant," and turned away.
The boy in the Father, immediately stopped the fan, the shell lost life, deflating, leaving the possibility of opening the zipper.
"Excuse me, but that is an insult to me, but I was an immigrant?"
The Lord, in his fifties, not at all angry, his chest began to laugh and his teeth came out
"Ahahahaha. Look at what is to be inflated. You do not make the balloon?"
Smiling again, he took ten thousand pounds from his pocket, put them in the basket of candy.
"Ahahahahaah. Well done guys." He left shoulder.
