The Xmas Drunk

Last holiday season I had a great part-time job to office parties as the Christmas Drunk ay several office parties and family gatherings in Manhattan. $500 an appearance in a business suit and all I could drink. Bad behavior was a must. Insulting the boss was a showstopper. Punching out the hated brother-in-law was most requested extra. $100/punch. Insulting a wife's obesity was a secret request of many husbands. I refused this boon. Punching a jerk was one thing. Hurting a fat woman's feelings was bad taste.

It was a good deal and the only downside was that I had to be drunker than anyone else at the party, so the family members and guests and co-workers could say the next morning, "At least I wasn't as drunk as the Christmas drunk."

Big Dave from the diamond exchange served as my back-up in case a situation spun out of hand, but I knew the limits and Big Dave never had to save my ass.

None of my clients knew my real name. Most guests asked at the end of a successful performance. "Who was that drunk guy?"

"The Xmas Drunk," the host answered with pride and my popularity increased as the holiday shopping days shrunk to single digits. I couldn't handle the demand. I boosted my rate to $200/hour. No one complained about my performance and by December 21st I was at the top of my game.

At a Hedge Fund soiree atop a skyscraper I ambushed the ruling CEO in the bathroom. I pointed a gun at him. Actually my weapon was a finger in my suit pocket. The capitalist fool was drunk enough to not question me.

Either that of very guilty.

I accused this inhebriated czar of finance of impoverishing the world. He swore that he was simply doing his job and pleaded for mercy.

"I'll write you a check for a million, if you let me go."

"Money means nothing to the Christmas Drunk." I grabbed his tie and dragged him into the main office, where his fellow execs ridiculed his surrender to a besotted revolutionary. I bowed to their applause and Big Dave escorted me out of the office.

"I was just getting started."

"That CEO's secretary was calling 911."

"Fuck him.

And I superglued shut the doors of the office and I heard they didn't get out until 3am.

The next morning I received a complaint from the banker who had hired me.

"What do you expect from the Christmas Drunk? Emily Post manners. Fuck off." None of them knew my real name and I threw away my burner. I had a wicked hang-over. I probably should have apologized, but he had paid me in cash. Everyone did, because there's only one person worst than the Christmas Drunk and that the guy seeking revenge by stiffing me, so I'm a strictly cash enterprise dedicated to being naughty and not nice and nothing says assnightmarehole better than the Christmas drunk.

No Bah Humbug

Few holidays are more commercialized than Christmas. The chorus of BUY BUY BUY on TV drowns out any rendition of SILENT NIGHT, as hordes of Americans flock to the malls in their SUVs to buy products made in China. Credit cards are whipped out at the cash registers to complete their Xmas gift list on December 23 and 24, the last two shopping days of the shopping frenzy. My last purchases on Christmas Eve were two beers at Jacob Wirth's in Boston, a good luck cat from a Chinatown shop, and a T ticket from South Station to Braintree.

My hand went into my pocket in the train parking lot. My sister had bet that I wouldn't be on time. Our first rendezvous of 5:45 was blown, so I doubled or nothing for 6:10. I was three minutes late. Her lovely daughter Sara got the $20. I sat in the back of their Benz and we drove through Weymouth Landing to a party at my old neighbor's house. The orgy of buying was over. It was time to consume.

Drinks, food, friendship.

My cup slippeth over and my other brother-in-law dragged me from the house, a glass of whiskey in my hand.

"Merry Christmas."

My exit was cheered by the stayers-on. David said, "You won the drunk of the party award."

"There was never any doubt in my mind."

The next morning I woke in a wounded state. I called my kids in Thailand. They were happy and Mem still had a little money left in her wallet. I wouldn't have to go to send a Moneygram on Christmas. We opened gifts and no money passed any out of or into any of our hands. Dinner was free and I begged off going to the movies with my nephew and my sister that evening to drink with my brother-in-law.

Free.

I crashed on the sofa around 10pm.

A day without money.

If only every day was Xmas.