Wintertime was here, and Chris set about doing all the chores and preparing himself for the cold season ahead. He took out all of his heavy wool clothes and dusted off the mothballs. Mittens, sweaters, jackets, they were all there. Chris then chanced upon the most important accesory for true Winter pleasure. His tush. "Aww, do I have to wear this old thing again?" Chris whined, staring at the old, weatherbeaten and moth-chewed lump of flesh hanging flaccidly from a brass hook.
"Son..." it was a voice from the hall.
"Dad?"
"Not this year, son."
"You-you mean?" Chris hardly dared THINK it, lest it not come true.
"Yes, son. It's a new tush, just for you!!"
"DAD!!"
"Here it is, son!" Dad said, tossing it nonchalantly toward Chris.
"DAD!" Chris gasped. "How could you be so cavalier with a genuine tush?"
"Never mind about that, son. Just open 'er up." Dad chuckled.
Chris tore into the festive Chanukkah paper, thinking about saving it but unable to control his anticipation . Inside, a brand new shiny tush gleamed. Chris' face lit up with pure unadulterated joy. "Try 'er on for size!" Dad said, puffing on his pipe with a smile. Without hesitation, Chris peeled off the latex protective seal and fastened the steel clamps with a snap. He danced around with joy. "Aren't you going to---sit down, son?" Dad said.
"Why, Dad?" Chris asked. "There's so much FUN to be had!"
"Oh, um... no reason." Dad's face turned a delicate shade of pink.
"I'll do it, Dad, just for you!!" Chris put his arm around his father.
Dad started to sweat profusely. "Umm... over there, son. The chair is much softer, especially for a tender new tush."
"Sure!" Chris skipped over to the other side of the curiously-shaped room. Turning around to face his father, he readied himself and got into position. "HERE GOES NOTHIN'!!!" he hollered, leaping backwards.
Suddenly everything seemed to go into slow motion. The walls, the clothing, even Chris' little dog Farley were all covered in a white, gooey slime as a SPLAT!! resounded from Chris' tuckus. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" Chris now understood the meaning of the concrete bunker his Dad had erected just prior to Chris' `accident' and had ducked behind. "It was all just a cruel joke! A Gag Tush!"
"That's right, son. Did you think with the tush prices skyrocketing we could actually afford a real one? It was good while it lasted, though."
"Yes, Dad, I guess it was."
"There's a lesson to be learned from all this, son. But I don't know what it is."
Chris looked up at his beaming father and rested his head on his shoulder. "I think I already learned it, Dad. I think I did."
And it was a happy Chanukkah after all.
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The End
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Written on Christmas Day, 1992, By Thanatos Jones and Liquid
Flounder.