I refuse to Lie, Okay?
I refuse to Lie, Okay?
The Macy's parade marched slowly on, and on, as it does each year. The little girl sat at the window staring in awe, cognizant of the hullabaloo for maybe the first time in her young life.
At first, her family all gathered close by, enthralled more with her delighted squeals than the activity itself. One by one the bright attractions marched by, and at each new sight she demanded more information. "Who's that, Mama!?"
"That's Spider Man, sweetie," the woman answered before heading back into the kitchen to address the potatoes.
"Dad, what are those guys doing?"
"That's a marching band, gumdrop. Your old dad used to be in one of those. It's a real honor to be skilled enough to be invited to-"
"That's a giant balloon in the shape of a football. Oh, speaking of which..." he headed out to the den to tune into the game.
Her questions and joyous squeals continued and uncles, aunts, and other guests busied themselves with other matters until finally, no one was left to query but Grandpa in his recliner. She asked his several questions, but he only grunted, or snored, once groggily asking her to refill his drink, so she finally resigned to watching the spectacle in silence. No matter though, because she didn't need anyone to tell her who the last participant in the grand parade was as he turned the corner onto their block.
"SANTA!!" she squealed.
"Nothin' but a lousy figurehead," Grandpa mumbled.
"A fig of what?"
He sat up a bit in his chair. "Fig yer head. He's got no power! Listen Lucy, don't bulieve in Santa, okay? Don't even bulieve in him, okay? He's got nothing to do with it."
Lucy came away from the window and scooted in close to his seat. "I can send letter to Santa, Grandpa!"
"Yeah, and you know who reads em? Their Congressional Department of Elves, that's who! They don't even make the toys - oh they'd like you to keep thinking that - but the laborers union knows it's the sweat and tears and the strong backs of the penguins that gets the job done! And whadda the penguins get for running the show? Okay? They get labeled black collar and fish wages. Okay? A total crock."
"I asked for a mermaid doll!"
"Lemme, let... lemme tellya something about this, okay? Your letter has to go through eighteen tiers before anybody relevant even hears your wish. The Elfery Department of Baking, the Elfery Bureau of Cheer, the Public Relations elves, the productions councils. These people are just fuzzy suits passing paper around. The system is broken, Lucy, okay?"
Grandpa turned over and went back to snoring in his chair and Lucy went back to the window, giggling and waving as she watched the sleigh pull away from her sight.
Want to make one of your own? Next week's prompt is,
Read Esther's submission.
Read Aaron's submission.