When your husband is a (clumsy) thief
It had been 6 years since I last visited the Christmas Fair in our hometown which always lasts exactly one day and one evening. Which makes it almost a flash Christmas market.
We have been banned for good from the this-market-has-nothing-to-do-with-the-bible-market’ because we are the people who tell every stall that they have really nice products, that we first are going to make our round and we’ll come back later to then buy their whole stall because nobody ever really buys at such markets and instead only do the lookylooky. To subsequently not come back anymore because it was a lousy excuse and we are bad softies.
I’ll bet the Christmas market was very happy we never came by anymore because we were also known as the swaggerer family who always painted the local church red which stands in the very center of this whole Christmas bauble business worship charade.
Ok perhaps the ban thing never happened, although it should have happened, but the rest of the story is totally true.
I visited the fair every year and is one of my most favorite evenings of the year, besides the evenings they come and get me for a quick trip to Velazsbuvizgaga, no not thé Gaga, this is an outer space planet, where you get to eat pizza with four cheeses without dying from it one single time. Oh and you also get to watch through their turbo telescopes which let you see right through people’s homes. That’s a lot of fun you know; celebrities aren’t as pretty at all!!
Where were we? Are you still with me; the Christmas fair. Last time in 2012 I was not feeling that great and I still don’t know how I made the trip around the church center of the city. I walked with a terrible feeling all of my organs should come out one by one through my nose, ears and eyes, bum holey, hooha, everywhere where is hole in the body I expected them to make an exit somewhere.
I was about to collapse, but every time I tried to tell myself that I had to continue walking because otherwise I couldn’t collect my Oscar at the Academy Awards. I definitely would have won one if my mother never told me only people who live in Hollywood could win one. I don’t mind, I still want to win one so that kept me going and while passing through the what-has-Christmas-to-do-with-Jesus-market I saw all the market stalls floating up and down and I thought by myself who are those strange Jesuses all dressed up differently with pink Christmas garlands around their head, dyed beards and saucy sexy wigs which made it all look like I flew through a Christmas gay parade spectacle.
Just as I was about to inspect the outside floor in a haze I saw the first aid patrol post standing there with a real ambulance and all. Trying to keep all of my shAt (shit) in I hobbled past them thinking why the F are they smoking like crazy, drinking, partying and eating these fat dumplings which looked like 200pound bundles of dingle berries. I swear I even saw them smiling cq greeting friendly to me while I was looking at them purple green faced vomiting up my left kidney which got stuck in the left corner of my mouth.
The bright thought came to me that I most certainly was not going to get helped by a bunch of blind blubber eating first aid party people who for sure would have dropped me on the floor or would have wanted me to join the party and do the conga line while they would try to climb on my neck and scream “I found Maria!”.
But it wasn’t necessary anymore since I saw in my right jumping up and down popping eye the street to our house anyway and we only had to walk a hundred meters which seemed to me like 100.000 km, but I made it home.
So this time I was feeling much better, physical better than mentally, and I decided to take the bike because I haven’t got a wheel chair and that way I could save energy to make my famous walk around the Chr. Market.
We parked the bike and began our favorite impish tour along each stand.
I was immense glad and thankful that I could make it this time and that I am alive also to experience again how my mom and I can make people eat their thermo gloves and make them run to the nearest outside toilet cubicle to hide from us for a couple of hours.
This time there was no pink Jesus to be seen and it was also a very cold freezing evening with an awful hard wind which resulted in a flash visit around the church and along the stands.
In the church👉💃
After we danced out of the church and I got in an awkward discussion with the church leaflet distributor about if the church would be safe at Christmas evening from disabled reindeers besetting, boycotting, harassing the house of one of the very first snapchatters (He can do everything I’ve heard; so I think he could snapchat while nobody was conscious of it) named God, because everybody loved Rudolph the red nose reindeer the most. So a lot of jealousy going on here.
The leaflet guy knew nothing about that, but I did and I think that he was not very amused I knew more than him so he was getting pissed off. He instantly went inside the church to ask for forgiveness. Not so sure if he was gonna get that though.
Well heading for the bike park place and then roll on to home because the road goes down and without any effort I could let myself freely go and cycle right through my front door.
But I still was next to the bike park place waiting for my assistant husband to get my 41 year old grandmother’s bike which I am still using after all those years. Yes I am spoiled I know.
Anyhoo; it was quiet in the parking lot and the wind became more violent and I had to grab myself to a lamppost and felt like a stupid cartoon hanging horizontal on a pole staring a Christmas stand Elf (inclusive awkward ears) in the eye and with this temperature it suddenly felt like the North Pole too. Yeahh really!
I yelled “Jack! Where is my bike!?” #impatient #aso (do you people use that in English? It’s an abbreviation for antisocial?) I got no answer from behind an abandoned truck. “Jack, what are you doing with my bike?! My grandmother’s bike!”.
Two big stupid eyes stared at me through the darkness behind the lorry and there was my husband clumsy trying to steal a bicycle and I didn’t understand why the Blieb. “What the f are you doing?!!” I reacted on this very awkward scene. With stammering voice he answered “key, key”. Me: Yes?? Keykey?! Next thing I know is that I had to drag the real truth out of his mouth by screaming “bike bike bike” very very very loudly. Turned out he lost the keys of grandma’s bike because of a tiny hole in his pocket.
Here should have been a sentence full of religious words like J. Chr. (But without pink garnish) I yelled and despite we had corrected our reputation (almost, exept the dancing in the church and so) this time at the Christmas fair and behaved ourselves I now screwed it abrupt permanently by cursing across the whole complicated devotional fair. (It wasn’t but it sounded better)
So making a long story (not that long) short I had to walk down to our house with a walking husband down the street looking like a Christmas fair bike robber. I didn’t want have to do anything with this and made sure I stayed yards behind him yelling loud and pointing at him “he is stealing a bicycle!!!!”.
A passing married couple said “we better make a picture of him and put it out on the internet!” So we did just that and here it is:
In the meantime the weather changed to snow storm format and husband decided to go back and search for the stupid key; all against my advice but he insisted. It’s not that I am a disturbed bitchy spouse demanding her husband to defy the weather to search for a key until it’s found. Sometimes I am kind too you know.
No key, but an awful sneezy Jack came home and I yelled something like why do you have to catch a cold, I told you searching isn’t necessary; we live across a major bicycle shop repairman, he will demolish the lock and we get a new one. I can even demolish the stupid lock myself, maybe that is relieving blahblahblah. Now you are going to infect me and you already had a cold sore.
After that we had a even greater evening because of our beloved daughter who is a famous lefthanded hyper photo realistic pencil drawing artist electrocuted herself with the Magic Bullet food mixer. Like a Magic electrocution; but then not funny.
Leaving her insane valuable (not assured for a couple of millions) left hand with a huge scary conscious palpable beating heart feeling.
So as you would have guessed already the evening ended up in the first aid section of the hospital.
Next morning huspup was still slightly annoyed by the missing key on the Christmas fair episode and again as stubborn as he is, went back to search but again came back empty handed.
I think we’re never going to find the key ever again; if you find it you may create a necklace with it. I don’t need it anymore; I’m going to molest the bike lock. Because I can do with a bit of fun.
Update for Rajacenna fans: the unthinking Brill is quite alright. After a check up in the hospital and a night of sleep the feeling in her hand has come back. She’s now working on getting the hand power back to as it was.
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