28/12/2002 - Entry #49
Evenin' all. Six days since my last entry, I figure I should update again. Sorry about the wait. It was Christmas, though.
Speaking of which, Happy Kwanzaa to you all! I hope you all had a wonderful little winterval, full of joy and happiness. My Christmas was spent as it always is, entertaining waifs and strays in my beautiful manor. We rounded them up off the street and ushered them into the morning room, where I washed their feet with my hair and sang carols at them. The look of bewildered glee on their faces is something I'll cherish forever.
It was a truly wondrous occassion, and I was just beginning to feel the benefit, when one of the little wretches piped up and ruined it for everyone.
"But why are you being so nice to us today?" he squeaked. "What about the other 364 days where we lie hungry and cold on the streets?"
The audacity! The cheek! The nerve of the boy!
"Because," I bellowed, revelling in the look of doe-eyed panic on his face as he recoiled in terror, "humanity simply doesn't have the patience or the willpower to maintain so much selfless affection for an entire year, and anybody who even entertains the notion that they do is clearly an imbecile! If we didn't allot specific dates for compassion and peace, then you wouldn't even be getting this bath and meal, so why don't you just thank your lucky stars we're good enough to give you a Christmas at all!"
And with that, I removed my embroidered slipper and administered a beating the likes of which give wastrels nightmares. I heaved him from the ground by the scruff of his neck and tossed him out upon the frozen doorstep of my home.
"You can come back when you've realised that the human is at heart a selfish creature and expecting more than 5 or 6 days of empathy a year is wholly unrealistic and naive!" I yelled at his retreating back. "And so it should be!"
I slammed the door and dusted off my hands, turning to catch the wry smirk on Jeeves' face. I tried in vain to remain stoic, but soon my stern countenance broke into a merry beam, and we exchanged knowing glances.
It's the same thing every year.
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