Once upon a time, when I was a somewhat less foul mouthed, and beardless, child, it was Christmas morn, and I was beyond excited for the all the packages below our tall, albeit plastic, tree.

There were toys, and games, and movies, and then one strange package. It was thin and slender, and looked like no gift I had seen before. I reached for the package, examined it, but still could not determine what was inside; all I knew was that my grandparents had given it to me.

So I tore the end off the wrapping paper, and pulling it back, do you know what I found?

A goddamn magazine they bought at a gas station. Merry fucking Christmas, indeed.

And that, boys and girls, was the worst Christmas gift I ever received.