Did you know “Xmas” isn’t a pagan manner to express your holiday cheer? The Greek word for Christ starts with the letter X. Screwed me again, Christians. Oh well. I think with each year leaping and laughing its way past my aging mind; I become more and more nostalgic. I’m trading my wit in for long, warm stares. I’m switching out narcissistic undertones for tears of remembrance and thankfulness. It’s awful. Someone help me. X? Are you there? Is anyone listening? Santa? Can you help? Get off your sleigh. Well, first reconfigure the spelling of “sleigh” because that word looks presumptuous. And after THAT check your list and after THAT grant me a holiday miracle. All I want for Xmas is to stop this whole downfall into maturity and selflessness. Can you grant me that, Saint Nick? Can I wake up by the warmth of a fire knowing that no one is more important than myself? That goodwill towards men means nothing in comparison to what I want to eat for lunch or what record I want to buy next or which scarf is going to look best with which tweed jacket of mine? I don’t need two front teeth. I don’t need a red rider b b gun. This Xmas I want to fall asleep knowing I took the world down with me. I want to laugh in the face of universal peace and scoff at the mere thought of anything wholesome or caring. This Xmas I want to burn the bridge and the water below it. I need to make up for time lost in sentiment. Are you there Santa? It’s me, Will. Get on it.