A Vegetarian Christmas Story
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Why I'm a Vegetarian, by A. Whitney Brown
I'm a vegetarian, alright, but not because I love animals; it's more
because I hate plants. I like to eat them whenever I can. But I reserve
a special contempt for house plants, the Uncle Toms of the vegetable
Kingdom, with their incessant drooping and whining for water. What do
they think, I'm made of water?
Like any omnivorous primate, I still have those primitive hunting
instincts, but I don't go out deer hunting anymore like I did growing up
in Michigan. It frightens people here in New York City. What I do
instead is go out and cut down my own Christmas tree. I got a 78
pointer last year. Stalked him for hours and finally surprised him in a
clearing. He was just standing there...growing. Throwing out oxygen
like he owned the planet and all the air around it. Oh, he was a
clever little fir. I'm sure he thought he'd be safe there in front of
the courthouse. But I hacked him to the ground and strapped him to the
hood of my car.
When I got him home, I discovered that he was still alive! I know the
sportsmanlike thing to do would have been to put him out of his misery,
but - 'twas the season to be jolly...so I thought I'd have a little fun
with him first. I put him in water -to make sure he didn't die too
quickly. Wouldn't want that, would we? Then I drilled thumbscrews into
his little trunk...just to help him stand up straight, you
understand... Put him right in the living room where the entire family
could enjoy his agony - and then I dressed him up like an idiot.
Strings of cheap tinsel and stupid looking balls all over his branches -
total humiliation. Just to be fair, I even left the door open - said to
him "Go ahead, make a break for it! You're going to blend right in out
there in the bush with that junk hanging off you." And, the whole
family piled presents at his feet. Just for a tease, I told him they
were his...
And while the rest of us celebrated the birthday of the Prince of Peace,
he withered and died in my living room, leaving behind as one final gift
to the lumbering race, the sweet scent of his corpse, in the air he had
helped to create. Later, I ditched him in my neighbor's yard.