The BEST Christmas Present
By: Timothy Law
I smile and I say what it is that they all hope I will say.
“Merry Christmas and thank you so very much for coming to see me, it is very kind of you to make the time.”
There is nothing merry about this place though. The food is mush, the company all moan, and mumble and these whitewashed walls are just so plain and boring. Even with the rubber decorations adorning the walls, they want nothing displayed that will excite the residents, excite people just like me. I continue to smile as I feel my parents embrace me. Deep down though smiling is the last thing that I wish to be doing. At least this day, this special day, they have let me out of the jacket that they make me wear. At least today I have escaped the cage; free am I from my cell.
“We brought you a gift,” says parent one.
I wish for a knife, a screwdriver, even one of those kitchen skewers, but I know I’ll be disappointed. I’m not allowed to have anything sharp. Both parent one and parent two knows this. It is a lesson I taught them and taught them well.
“We heard you like to write.”
I feel a small notebook being placed in my hands, useless, unless I try valiantly to achieve death by a thousand paper cuts… But then, just as suddenly as I feel disappointment and despair, I discover another part to the giving of the gifts… Two pencils, the leads are sharp. I wonder how deeply I can shove them in my parent’s ears before any of the sleepy guards realize what it is that I have done. I open my arms wide enough, so that I can embrace both mum and dad together.
“Merry Christmas,” I say, as I hold the pencils, gripped tightly, one in each hand.
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