All I Want for Christmas is a Whole Bunch of Fertilizer and Don’t Ask Any Fucking Questions

by Fred Nelson

Ah Christmas, ’tis the season of joy, merriment, and rosy red cheeks, a time of year for hot cocoa, kissing under the mistletoe, tree-decorating, boisterous house-to-house caroling, and most importantly of all, gift-giving. Well, personally, I know what would truly make my Christmas one to remember is a whole bunch of fertilizer and don’t you dare ask any fucking questions.

Ever since I was a little boy, I’ve woken up early every Christmas morning and gleefully unwrapped all of my presents only to find a toy train, some silly putty, or even a PlayStation, but never the one thing that my little heart truly desired: pounds and pounds of fertilizer. Why do I need all this fertilizer? Maybe I’m a farmer or even an ambitious gardener. Maybe I just want to keep it in my living room purely because I like the way that it looks.

Either way, it’s my fucking business, and I swear to god I better not hear one peep about it from you. I’m not going to do anything dangerous or sinister with it and even if I were, it’s nothing for you to worry about. Don’t you dare be a scrooge and call the cops on me. Just drop off a truckload of fertilizer in front of my cabin in the woods at coordinates 90.0000° N, 135.0000° W, drive off like nothing happened, and have a merry fucking Christmas.

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