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Tell Santa I Tried to Be Nice (standard:humor, 903 words)
Author: GodspenmanAdded: Dec 20 2020Views/Reads: 135/68Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Our relationship is not based on nice or naughty but rather on the Lord Jesus Christ, our Savior.
 



It's that time of the year when the conversation around the dinner table
in the Parsonage has to do with naughty or nice. 

I must admit it's not my favorite conversation because what is naughty,
and what is nice? That all depends on who you're talking to. The 
Gracious Mistress of the Parsonage has a different definition of these 
words than I do. 

According to my wife, nice has to do with broccoli, and naughty has to
do with Apple fritter. 

I'm afraid I have to disagree with this because as far as I'm concerned,
nice has to do with Apple fritter and naughty has to do with broccoli. 
I'm not sure that you can get any naughtier than broccoli. At least I 
can't. 

But this time of the year, the definition of naughty and nice is
determined by some overweight guy living in the North Pole abusing 
reindeer. If you think I'm going to listen to his definition, you don't 
know me. 

I don't want Santa to determine if I'm naughty or nice because I don't
trust that guy. 

Why would I want to trust a guy who only works one day out of the year
and the rest of the time live somewhere in the North Pole? He's almost, 
but not quite, as bad as politicians. But at least Santa works one day 
out of the year. 

“So,” my wife began, “do you think you've been nice this year?” 

As a husband for almost half a century, I know a trick question when
presented to me. I can't tell you how many times I have been tricked 
with one of these questions. 

“Well,” I stuttered, “how do you think I fared during the year?” 

I was open to put it back on her shoulders and let her go away with it.
My wife is an expert in many things and, in particular, in 
interrogation. Me, I'm an expert in failing interrogations. 

Throughout life, I have learned that it is not what I think that really
matters but what other people think particularly about me. It's not if 
I think I was nice this past year, but did my wife think I was nice. 

Looking very thoughtfully as she usually does when interrogating me, she
said, “Well, there was that incident at the beginning of the year about 
a lizard on my pillow.” 

It was all I could do to hold back a chuckle. I remember that incident
very well in a motel over in St. Augustine. I still can see that lizard 
staring at my wife. 

“You have to admit,” I explained, “that lizard was rather a nice little
critter.” 

“If that's your definition of nice,” she said most adamantly, “then you
have failed the test.” 

I wouldn't say this out loud so that she could hear me, but that was one
test I enjoyed failing. 

After pausing for a moment or two, she said, "Then there's the incident
about the bug on my leg while I was driving." 

Although I tried to withhold any outward expression of laughter, it was
beyond my control. 

"So, you think it was nice for that bug to be on my leg, causing me to
bump into the car in front of me?" 

I had almost forgotten that, but nobody was hurt in the incident. 

“What does nice have to do with that kind of bug on my leg?” 



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