The Year of the Tiger

Wow, Christmas was swell this year. I spent the entire day pretending I was a deranged, flesh-eating tiger, but other that that it was a pretty standard birthday for my Jewish homeboy, Jesus.

So I didn’t realize it until now but apparently I can channel the spirits of dead animals. Cool right? See, I had this dream on Christmas Eve night that I was a ferocious tiger, and then when I woke up on Christmas day I just couldn’t seem to shake the tiger spirit from within. I mean it was REAL. I could sense the tiger inside me, speaking to me. It was as if he was using my physical body as a vessel to express his feelings and desires, and there was nothing I could do but submit to his wishes.

My parents, however, were not into this idea. “Don’t be ridiculous Karley,” my mother said when I informed her of my exciting discovery, “You’re acting like a child.” Yeah, right—ridiculous. And the story of Jesus and the Virgin birth—that’s totally plausible. Morons.

Still, I was not going to be disheartened by parent’s lack of faith. Instead I began the day by pouncing onto my little brother’s bed, waking him from he sleep by making fierce growling noises inches from his face. After that I spent the next couple hours taking pictures of myself in various tiger poses in front of the tree, then in front of the nativity scene, then the stockings, and then some other random stuff like my dad’s hat rack and my passed out grandmother. I even opened my presents with my teeth. My grandmother, however, wasn’t into my new and unfamiliar behavior.

“Jesus wouldn’t like that darling,” she said as I clawed at a tiny figurine of the baby Jesus, sculpted out of dried macaroni and glitter from my pre-school days. “Now be a dear and pour me some eggnog.” Whatevs bitch. The guy was born in a fucking barn and dated a prostitute. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind some harmless growling. My mother is now convinced I’m on drugs.

It gets weirder. So we’re watching the five o’clock news Christmas evening and on comes a news story about a boy who got eaten by a tiger at the San Francisco Zoo that very morning. Now, if that’s not a sign that I have supernatural brain powers then I don’t know what is. I’ve clearly channeled the spirit of that dead tiger (It was put to sleep after the incident. R.I.P.), and am now living my life as a fusion of both the tiger and myself. We are one. It’s all becoming so clear. And yeah, I guess I do feel slightly weird about the fact that I’m now technically a murderer, but to be honest I’ve been too busy gushing over my super powers to care.

So yeah, all in all it was a pretty good Christmas. For me anyway. Probably not as much for that little boy I murdered, but I’m not sweating it. It’s like my mother always says whenever I accidentally get too drunk or angry or pregnant: “Our God is a forgiving God, and all you have to do is say the word and you will be forgiven.” Phew. Thank the Lord. Luckily for me Christians have thought of a full proof plan that basically allows them to do whatever the fuck they want and never have to suffer for their sins. For a second there I thought I was going to have to burn in hell.

1. Growling at the baby Jesus.

2. Spreading the tiger spirit.

3. Me and my little bro (not in tiger mode).



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