The Christmas Crib

I bumped into my lawyer, Gonad the Ballbearian recently on the street. He was talking earnestly to a small plaster effigy of General Franco and sweating like a criminal.

Aha! I said. Gonad! The very man. There’s a few fuckers I want you to sue for me. I have the list here somewhere.

No, he shouted. Stop. I can’t sue anyone after the hellish experience I’ve just had.

I could tell he was serious. His recessed eyeballs had sunk even deeper beneath his ape-like brow and the twitch was more obvious than I’ve seen it in a long time. Gonad was clearly troubled.

Clearly, you’re troubled, I told him.

I am, he agreed. And if you saw what I saw, you’d be fuckin troubled too.

This was serious. Gonad never swears in the presence of Franco.

Pray tell, I invited him.

Exactly, he said.


Precisely, said Gonad, like a madman. I was on my way back to work and I took a quick tour of the block to have a smoke. It’s my habit.

It is indeed, I assured him.

Anyway, he said, things were on my mind so I decided to slip into the church for a few minutes.

The church? I demanded. Are you mad? What the fuck were you doing in a church? Did anyone see you?

Ah, he said, I just wanted to sit down in the peace and quiet and maybe reflect for a few minutes ponder over all the shit and do a bit of reflection a small bit of contemplation evaluate the coming year and see if I can find a little bit more space for myself in the face of all the conflicting demands of other people.

When Gonad speaks without commas, I know there’s trouble.

Go on, I encouraged him.

Well, he said, I sat down in a seat next to the Christmas crib and I was looking up at the ceiling with all the holy angels painted on it, thinking to myself Jesus I bet it cost a fortune to get that painted. And then I was looking up at the altar with the candles and stuff and kind of starting to contemplate when suddenly a movement in the corner of my eye distracted me.

What? I said.

It was the crib, he said. I had a hallucination that a giant rabbit was waving at me from the crib.

Now I was certain he was losing the plot.

Gonad, I said, do you know fucking anything? Of course you saw a giant rabbit in the crib. And tell me, did you also see a giant owl, a giant armadillo, an aardvark chasing an army of killer ants and a water buffalo next to the three wise-guys?

He nodded.

Well, I told him, there you go then. Those are the animals listed in the Bible. The giant rabbit went on later that same day to crucify Santa Claus and was shot by the Romans as he tried to escape from custody.

Oh, said Gonad. I see. He began to sob. I’ve been such a fool.

Feel better? I asked.

Gonad nodded again. Thanks, Bock. You’re a real friend.

5 replies on “The Christmas Crib”

Bock I think you are going mad. Your writing has become nonsensical
Bye the way the crib in the Dominicans is cool.

Nonsensical? So you thought the other stuff made sense, did you? That’s a worry. Maybe I should switch off anonymous posting.

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