Silent night, deadly night

At this time of year I always find myself singing the theme song to 80’s slasher classic Silent Night, Deadly Night.

Except I don’t remember the theme at all, and can barely recall any of the films, so I just sit around alone, rocking back and forth, singing “Silent night, deadly night” tunelessly whilst staring into middle space.

It’s one thing to do this at home but, as Christmas draws near, I start to do it at work.  I have vast amounts of free time at my various low-paying jobs, and long ago made a pact with Satan that, no matter where I find myself employed, I will only devote one hour of every eight to my job.  Satan was hesitant to agree, though, because I refused to use the seven other hours in his service.  The pact officially reads:  One hour of work and seven hours of watching fruit rot.  These days, I don’t often watch fruit rot.  I have watched a creek freeze.  At least once a year I actually, literally, watch paint dry.  But, for the most part, I’m just staring into space and talking to myself.

That can be off-putting enough, but once you launch into “silent night, deadly night” in an Evil Dead II possession voice, I tend to cause what we’ll go ahead and call social friction.

The problem is that I’m not really aware of the habit.  So there are moments where I suddenly realize that an entire room of people have stopped dead and are staring at me in horror because I’ve been singing “silent night, deadly night” and giggling, insensible to anyone around me.

This is one reason I drink.  I’m much more engaged when drunk.  I’m aware of the people around me.  Largely because I become paranoid and think they’re out to get me.

Christmas is always hard, though.  Even when fueled with booze, I’ve never liked the holidays.  And there’s nothing for me to do at this time of year except think about that.  Except, admittedly, this has been a very different year.  No gifts for anyone, and, with my grandmother gone, I probably won’t receive too many gifts except from the odd friend.  With all the money gone, I’ve resorted to saving every penny.  This means I go days without showering, and I make candles out of junk wax that I scrape up from the floor at my weekend job and, occasionally, at local churches.  I boil the wax down in a pot, which I stole from my neighbor, and then pour it into glass bowls, which I stole from my weekend job.  For wicks, I use stinky pieces of string that I’ve stolen just generally throughout my days.  I’ve always stolen things.  Never anything of value.  Well, unless mugs of money by the office copy machine has value.  Although, there are those who argue that money has no value.  Especially when it’s anonymously stuffed into a coffee mug.  I figure stealing that is the same as scooping up coins from the bottom of a fountain…which is something I’ve often done.  Most of the stuff I steal, though, is useless.  I call it liberating functional trash.

Personally, I’m thrilled to now have a use for the bales of string I stole off of that pick-up.

The candles last about a week, then I head out to church with a patented “wax remover” that I stole from my weekend job.   I don’t attend or participate or make any attempt to fit in.  I just slip in with plastic bags and flit around in the shadows like some demon.

So here’s this unwashed guy making candles in the dark singing the words “silent night, deadly night” over and over again.  Then watching episodes of Star Trek: The Next Generation at top volume and laughing hysterically at lame Data jokes.

I realize this paints something of a dark picture… But it really is just because of Christmas.  Come the summer, I’ll sit out on my balcony in the warm night, completely naked, drinking straight from a bottle of vodka.  Much more interesting and constructive.  And, when it’s warm, and not appropriate for the season, I tend to stop singing “silent night, deadly night.”  Typically, during the summer, I switch to singing “get your missiles ready to destroy the universe” to a tune of my own creation, where I build up to a warbling crescendo on “universe.”