Christmas Past

I don't like to talk about my past. It's... well, past, over and done with. I'll go nuts if I think too much about what I've lost. But it's hard not to think about Christmas, not with that big-ass Festive Seasonal Holiday Observance Flora twinkling at me every time I turn around. So I'll talk about it - just this once.

Christmas was always weird for me - first off, I'm not Christian. December 25th was always "Jews Go To The Movies Day" as far as my family was concerned. Fun, and I have fond memories of quite a few otherwise worthless family comedies as a result, but it was never the big deal that it was for all the other kids. When I got older, it meant either really good overtime pay or extra time off, depending on my job. Again, fun, but not... you know.

Now I'm here, and it's still weird. My squadmates get all sniffly looking at the tree, and talk a lot about their families, and their kids, and their pets, and some of them get really angry and do stupid shit. Franks will be spending this Christmas regrowing his left arm because he completely lost it - charged a Bane mortar yelling "Ho ho ho, motherfucker!" and blazing away, only he forgot to switch to his pulse chaingun first. Well, at least the sickbay food is pretty good.

Me, though? I have guard duty tomorrow - I volunteered, because I don't want to lose any more mates to the "holiday spirit." I'll spend Christmas cleaning my guns and potshotting the Thrax that haven't figured out Resurgence Day is over, just like I did last year. And the year before that. And every year since I spent my first Christmas off Earth, in a refugee camp. Five thousand filthy, tired, homeless people sang carols and wept and hugged each other, and I dug latrines. Somebody had to do it, and I don't sing very well anyway.

I couldn't tell you who I'd kill to watch some damn Steve Martin flick with my mom and dad and little sister tomorrow, but that's past. Over and done with. If you'll excuse me, I gotta hit the rack - guard duty starts early, even on Christmas.