This past Saturday, I was allowed to leave work about 20 minutes early. With extra time to spare, I decided to walk the 10 – 12 minutes to Farmington Avenue, to catch an E bus, as opposed to waiting 20 minutes, where I usually catch the bus at 5pm. Once again, the late afternoon was prematurely dark, so I walked at a clip. As I made my way down the street- coat swinging around my ankles, the heels of my boots the only sound to be heard- I noted that many of the homes on this side of town, were decked out resplendently with Christmas lights and other holiday bric-a-brac, cluttering the front yards, blinking almost defiantly against the darkness. It seemed the further I got down the street, the gaudier the Christmas cheer, so I sped up my pace, and pulled my coat closer to me, frightened by what I was bearing witness to. Lights… projectile vomited onto bushes and fronts of homes, sans any theme… just cluttered lights and garish holiday décor, thrown together without any real meticulous effort. When I reached the final house on the street, the last in this parade d'inélégant, I stumbled and then paused at the worst of the fray! … Colorful lights, strewn on a bush, and blinking maniacally at me… the cords entangled and gnarled around one another! At that moment, standing in front of this display, I heard a whirring sound. Suddenly, my eyes made contact with the fugliest piece of Christmas art I ever saw; A huge, globe shaped ball… with a moving snowman vignette inside… turning around and around… mechanical-like… stuck performing the same dance in the midst of fake snow, whirling around on the inside. I clapped my leather-gloved hand over my mouth, gagging! It was all I could do to not double over and vomit. I walked away from this bloody nightmare, almost tripping over a crack in the sidewalk. …

...

Finally settled at the bus stop, I took a deep inhalation of breath as I tried to settle my nerves and fight back the nausea working its way up my throat. Once the bus rumbled down the street and I boarded, an offensive odor assaulted my senses. My brush with the terror of Christmas decorating DON’TS, didn’t seem so scary anymore, as the foul B.O. - (like a greasy, onion laden burger, smothered in special sauce and a heaping helping of mustiness). I narrowed suspects down to three passengers sitting towards the front of the bus… A bad P.M. Dawn look-alike, the old man with the soiled looking clothes on, the old woman wearing the dirty coat… The old man and the old woman departed the bus, yet the smell still lingered… I decided it was P.M. Dawn’s bad doppelganger. His smell, set adrift of memory-not-so-blissful… of my olfactory glands.

I decided to take a detour and stop at the wine shop for some Jesus Juice, to cleanse my soul…