Drat! MAG

By Unknown, Unknown, Unknown

   My eyes snapped open from an intense dream, no not about candy canes or dancing gingerbread men. It was about, well, I'm male and 14 years old.

It was Christmas and as usual I sprinted down the hall into my brother's room, gliding through the air over his bed and into a pile of clothes. After waking him up, I cruised into my parents' bedroom and urged them to get up, but my dad just looked at me. I knew that all he needed was coffee, so after they each had a jolt of caffeine, we all gathered around in the living room next to our tree and a stack of presents. "Travis, Ha, Ha, this one's mine." I began to rip the little mistletoe wrapping paper off what I knew was a CD. Oh yes! The corner is blue. It has to be the new Guns An Roses or better yet the new...aw man...Stevie Nicks. Once again, I had been cheated by my father, because I know that he listens to her and so this gift was really for him.

Hey, wait a minute, I did the same thing to him for Father's Day. I had been begging him for a little tape recorder so I could record information about people and then play it back to that person for a certain amount of cash, of course. My servant (or Mom) and I decided to go shopping for a gift for him, when all of a sudden I came up with this wonderful idea of getting him a tape recorder that would really be for me. So here I am borrowing the tape recorder just like he intends to borrow the compact disc (or maybe we could just make a trade or did he already have that in mind and he just bought the CD to replace the tape recorder that he never sees).

Hey cool, I must be onto something here. Maybe I should buy more of those fake Father's Day gifts and get more things that I want. n

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