A Chrisagis Christmas Story

Lately I've been thinking about the true meaning of Christmas.  For someone who literally doesn't give a flying fuck about the endless parade of holiday idiocy, you can probably surmise how this presents a dilemma.  Let me be honest.  I'm not the kind of person who's interested in decorating a tree.  Ornaments don't interest me.  However, I do like the notion that Frank Costanza finds tinsel distracting.  But other than that, I do not care.

I don't care about little kids getting their pictures taken with Santa.  I also don't care for the charitably incessant bell-ringers outside the local Kroger.  It gets old.  I don't like holiday music of any ilk - whether it's a Jewish ditty about a dreidel, wanna be thug rappers layin' down the Kwanzaa beats, or a little drummer boy with a little drummer dick.  As far as I'm concerned, you can take that BE Taylor shit and stick it up your Christian ass.  I just don't enjoy this stuff. 

But there is an exception.  I do like the Chrisagii.

I DO like the idea of the Chrisagis brothers trying to save the spirit of Christmas.  Hear me out on this.  I conjured up a movie in the deep recesses of my brain.  Basically, it's the same concept as Toy Story.  It's a whole new genre - an animated Christmas horror story... but with a twist.

The dolls are under the tree and magically spring to life.  The premise of every scene is that when an unfortunate holiday situation arises, the Chrisagis toy brothers enter the fray.  But every time they intervene, they somehow make the situation incomprehensibly worse.  And after every scene, they do their trademark laughing and chortling.  It's this total buffoonary.  They just never seem to learn.

I'll break it down into 5 major scenes.  First, there's some overly sappy Christmas intro.  Some good Christian parents purchase presents (Shawn and Brian dolls) for their twin kids.  As the family laments the horror of the local news (Steubenville rape case, 20 car pile-up on I-70, crick ice jams and flooding on Wheeling Island, etc.), the dolls secretly come to life.  The dolls are on a "heavenly mission" --- do anything and everything to bring back that true Christmas spirit.  Their motto... if Justin Timberlake is gonna bring sexy back, we're gonna bring Jesus back.

Incidentally, we failed last night at Consol Energy Center.  UNPRECEDENTED!  As far as concerts at that venue, we are now officially on a losing streak.  Up until then, we were probably about 23-0.

The toy dolls don't necessarily come to life, but they are "reborn" of course.  I'm still working on the conceptual nature of this part.

First stop is Walmart (let's go with the Highland store instead of the one in St. Clairsville).  The dolls have heard that long lines are gathering and the store manager must hire additional security to prevent crowd unruliness.  The toy Chrisagis brothers decide to show up and entertain the crowd.  Brian looks at Shawn, "This will be a wonderful holiday distraction from all the hustle and bustle!"

But on their way to Walmart, the news outlets run a story about how the Chrisagis dolls have instantly become the most sought after holiday gifts.  These toy dolls have become limited edition collector items.

As they prepare to address the crowd, a pipsqueak cries out, "Those dolls are worth millions.  Gimme, Gimme!"  Naturally, a human stampede breaks out and several young children are crush asphyxiated.  The luckier ones are trampled to death on the cold asphalt.

The next stop is a private holiday Christmas party at the Dillonvale mayor's house.  The toy Chrisagis brothers are worried about people drinking and driving.  They're worried that some attendees will get loaded on eggnog and assorted libations.  On the way to the party, a seedy character approaches them in a dark alley and sells them an "anti-drinking potion" that allegedly counteracts the effects of alcohol.  It's labeled "inebriation mitigation."  Shawn looks at Brian, "sounds like this scientific stuff should work."

But little do the Chrisagitts know - this potion is actually a vial of liquid LSD.  After they secretly "spike" the punch, the family begins to hallucinate.  They suddenly thinks they're birds.  So they climb out on the roof.  In unison, they decide to fly.  Naturally, the entire family simultaneously plummets to their death.  Correction - the parents survive but are left in a coma.  They eventually recover from their vegetative state but are forced to live the remainder of their lives confined to outdated wheelchairs from goodwill.

The Chrisagii seem to be having a really bad luck streak.  They come to the conclusion that nothing says Christmas spirit better than St. Nick himself.  So they decide to hire an "independent Santa" and let all the parents take free pictures with their wee children.  But needless to say, they neglected to perform a background check.  Turns out that this particular Santa is a child molester with a laundry list of pedophilia crimes dating back to the Nixon administration. This "bad Santa" even uses the Chrisagii as sex toys on his unsuspecting victims.

Everything has just really gone downhill.  The Chrisagis brothers decide they need to get "back to basics."  You can sum that up with one word --- CHURCH!  They head to the nearest house of worship.  What they fail to realize is that this particular church is Southern Baptist/old-school Pentascostal.   

Shawn and Brian join the congregants and begin violently shaking, dancing and speaking in tongues.  When the snakes come out, it becomes apparent that these aren't your typical reptiles.  These ones are boa constrictors imported from the Amazon.  Confused by the appearance of the animated toy brothers, the snakes attack the parishioners.  They quickly constrict around the pastor and organist.  Witnessing this horror, the entire congregation collectively denounces their faith and instantly adopts a brand new direction of secular humanism.

And that's how the story ends --- on this ardent note of skepticism and non-belief.

Have yourself a very Chrisagis Christmas.