The War on Christmas, v. 2022, Part 3 of 4

Holiday magic can always happen

In Part 2, after visits from the Ghost of Mariah Carey and Hank the Shank, I’d just returned to sleep. My mind was still stuck on Hannukah and I dreamed I was at a ceremony led by Rabbi Rainbow. He was wearing the oddest shoes.

As I left the synagogue, I was surprised that I suddenly was speaking Yiddish in my farewell: “A fraylichen Chanukah and Chanukah Sameach, m’okay? And Shalom, dudes and dudettes.”

I was then inundated by a host of strange spirits. So many so fast that I wasn’t sure if I was awake or asleep for each. One was pushing for another unfamiliar holiday:

And another:

It just kept getting weirder with each visitor:

That ghost of the Flying Spaghetti Monster was even arrogant enough to suggest that family Christmases were nothing more than hostage situations.

And that even Rudolph had gone rogue.

Then Festus returned and said I should express thanks to everyone for all these December holidays.

But deep down inside, I knew this couldn’t be true. Christmas was Christmas! It’s supposed to be Jesus and Santa and eggnog and presents. I was open to letting Harry Hannukah in, but the rest could only be devils and infidels who kept trying to distort Christmas into something to fear.

”ENOUGH!” I cried as I leapt out of bed, “I’m not gonna surrender Christmas to ghastly ghostly intruders. I know when I’m being gaslighted!”

There’s supposed to be unexpected magic at Christmas. It was time. Time to call in reinforcements…

Here’s the portal to go to Part 4.