A guy I work with innocently approached my desk with his cd case open and held out like a prayerbook.
"Jane, I brought in some Christmas music for you."
I threw my arms up in front of my face, as a vampire does when confronted with a cross. After the hissing subsided, I gave him my sweetest smile.
"I'm very sorry, Scooter, didn't anyone tell you? I'm the Girl Who Hates Christmas."
He laughed. He thought I was kidding.
The smile never left my face.
"No, seriously, get that shit the fuck away from me."
He backed away, very, very slowly, and from a safe distance said,
"Wow, you really DO hate Christmas, don't you?"
And now, wafting over his partition, I hear the happy sounds of -- blues guitar.
Point to Jane.
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