A Christmas Eve Tale About a Childfree 30-Year Old Nihilist

It was a Christmas Eve like no other!

For one, it was the first Christmas Eve in recent memory where my employer did not require that I work. So, I offered to work anyway, as well as Christmas day. This was an alien thought to him, so instead I am enjoying “second weekend”, as I have come to call it.

I woke up and noticed it was a slightly soggy and gloomy overcast morning. Wonderful! I opened all the windows, grabbed a blanket, and played Dragon Age on my couch with my dog for about 7 hours. I ate leftover pizza and drank a lot of Mountain Dew. I beat the game, but am considering picking up my save from about 90 minutes prior, as I made a decision which brashly affects the family of my character from the first game. Whoopsie!

I enjoyed not having any allergies today. The rain kept the usual allergens down, and since I don’t see the point in ironically decorating Yggsdrasil in the genocidal culture that burned their temples down to build their churches atop of, my apartment doesn’t reek of dead tree.

I became hungry, looked around the kitchen and came to the logical conclusion of: fuck cooking. Fast food giant Jack in the Box is open all major holidays, and although they are a shining star of mediocrity, carry a great nostalgia for all the times my mother and I went there on major holidays, because holidays are dumb. She died this year by the way. Did I mention fuck this year with a bonesaw soaked in ebola and sadness?

I pull up to the restaurant and I gasp. Are they closed?! Is my last resource in this hick town lost on me? The lights are all off; the sign, the drive through menus, and the in-house lights are dimmed. I pull up to the drive through anyway where the order screen gives me this empty stare of bright white light. No text, no logo, no anything. A booming, enthusiastic voice yells at me “Hi there! Welcome to Jack in the Box! What can I get for you today??!?!?!?!?!!!!111!!!!1!!!!one”
“Oh, hi. I need a minute. It’s hard for me to see the menu without lights out here.”
“Oh yes, sorry. We’re trying to get that fixed.”
How many Jack in the Box employees does it take to screw in a lightbulb?

I place my order and pull around. The cashier is literally hanging out of the drive through window. As I approach, he yells at my car “GET ME OUT OF HERE!” (no, I am not making this shit up). I greet the cashier and his horrible lack of professionalism and begin the financial transaction. I am forced into a conversation.

He exclaims: “I can’t believe they have me working this late on Christmas eve! I should be home!”
“Huh. This year is the first time I’ve had a job that didn’t require I work holidays.” I’m balding and wearing my pajamas. I believe the look of horror on his face was him looking into his future.
“Really? Uh, wow. Wait, you said french fries right?”
“Curly fries.”
“Oh okay. HEY BOSS! IT WAS CURLY FRIES! YOU CAN KILL ME LATER! Here’s your card back. Are you having a good Christmas so far?”
“Eh, I really don’t celebrate Christmas.”
“Oh, what do you celebrate then?”
“Nothing, really.”
“Nothing? Not even Hanukkah? Why?”
“I’m 30. I don’t have any kids and I don’t believe in any gods. There really just isn’t any point.”
“Oh yeah, I flip back and forth. Like-”

Okay, I hate to cut that conversation off, but the rest is him dumping all of his teenage philosophies on life on me until my cheeseburger is ready.

I get my food, say “Enjoy your holiday, you weird fucker”, and then promptly leave. Since then, I’ve mostly been drinking beer and watching Angry Video Game Nerd episodes.

And that my friends, is what Christmas is like when you’re a nihilist.

2 Replies to “A Christmas Eve Tale About a Childfree 30-Year Old Nihilist”

  1. My Eve consisted of visiting with family for 4 hours and pretending to like the present they gave me, followed by going to sleep, because other than this codger who was too busy playing DA:I. None of my other close OL friends bothered to log in to pass along holiday wishes. Just more proof that OL friends can be depended on as far as RL family. Which is about as far as your limp wristed nerdy arms can throw them. Usually just far enough to land on your toes. On the bright side I had to go out barefoot earlier, saving me the expense of looking for ice to help reduce the swelling.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *