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The Worst Holiday Ever
By Christina Barr
Staff Writer, Connected Now, Inc.
 It was just one of those things – y’know, the kind of thing that you never forget because it was so tragic at the time and might have even scarred you a little bit for life. I had agreed to go home for Christmas not overjoyed at the prospect of being reunited with family, but at the slightest mouth-watering thought of having some of Grandma’s Famous Fudge. So I packed my bag and stepped up into the RV packed with other teenagers that, by the fetid aroma that wafted from the doorway, hadn’t bathed in awhile, and headed for home. Three thousand miles away. Yep, cross-country in a Winnebago with dirty kids, meals of cold beans straight outta the can, bathroom privileges once a day so as to not back up the RV’s toilet, all for that first melting taste of rich, buttery chocolate fudge full of sugar and love. There were four nights and three days of bumps, potholes, toll booths, highway patrols, rain, sleet, snow, ice, pit-stops, altitude and attitude (as one will find when cooped up in a small overpopulated vehicle for multiple days). But we made it. We pulled into that familiar as I muttered to no one in particular, “Grandma’s Fudge, aaarrhhhh…”, akin to Homer Simpson seeing a doughnut with sprinkles. After the obligatory rounds of hugs and kisses, I was able to squirm away and steal Grandma to ask that ultimate question – where’s the fudge? “Oh you don’t want any of that, dear,” she cracked, “I burnt it.”
Ok, so there could be worse things than burnt fudge at Christmas, or any holiday for that matter. Why don’t you tell us your most horrifying holiday story and let us know we’ve got it better than we think. I’m still upset about the fudge, sniff sniff….
Submit your entries to publisher@ConnectedNow.com
and if it’s truly unbearable, we just might publish
it!
You may contact Christina Barr at
CBarr@ConnectedNow.com.
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