The Spirit of the Holidays

A warm Christmas memory brought to you by Colleen:

A couple of Christmas' ago my family was getting ready for Christmas Eve mass (which happens to be the children's mass at my church), and we were running late, naturally. We get to church, and it is PACKED. We are stuck in the vestibule because apparently everyone thought that there wouldn't be a crowd at the 3 o'clock mass on Christmas Eve. It was annoying, but Christmas, so I continued to smile. Communion time rolls along, and they have a priest that comes all the way to the back for the people who came late and have to stand. I'm in line behind everyone in my family, but my sister. I have my hands folded, and I'm smiling because, hey, Santa's coming (not in Communion form, I'm not that confused). There is this man who is wearing what appears to be hunting gear. He has cargo khaki pants on, a collared shirt that has deer on it, with a green vest that has lots of pockets. I smile at him, as I am smiling at everyone who makes eye contact with me. He brushes up against me, and because the church is crowded, and because I have such a large presence, I turn and say, "Sorry". But then, I realized, that wasn't a brush up, that was a brush with the hand on the ass and a firm squeeze. It took a second, because, what? Who's ready for that when they are at church? I turn around to see his back leaving the church. What is interesting about him leaving is that he never went up for Communion. He went to church, in my mind, to touch my butt. Merry Christmas to you, you dirty old man. That is what I considered my good deed for Christmas.