I took my Christmas tree out to the curb a few days ago.  The Boy Scouts picked it up- a service project of theirs I suppose.  When I called the fellow in charge of the operation a few days ago to let him know I had a tree I would be glad to get rid of, he’s the one that told me to just leave it curb-side.  But I thought I should offer up a donation, so I told the guy to have one of his boys  knock and I would make a contribution.  I mean that’s only fair and the right thing to do.  I was a boy scout and know some shit about their organization.  Sure some of what goes on is a lot of fun, but sometimes scoring one of those damn merit badges was punishingly difficult.  I remember one time I shoveled snow off people’s sidewalks all morning in ten degree weather, and you think any of those cheap bastards gave me so much as a cup of hot chocolate?  Hell no.

The day before the scouts dropped by I set a five dollar bill out to remind myself they were coming.  When my wife got all nosey and asked what the money was for, she called me a tight ass- said I should fork over a Hamilton.  I guess she thinks money grows on trees.

I’m here to tell you it’s quite the opposite.  That tree cost me a fortune.  Here’s the thing.    I won’t allow any kind of artificial Christmas tree in my house.  It’s got to be the real thing, one  like my dad always insisted on- a Douglas fir.  None of those fancy Balsams or Fraziers.  And forget Scotch pines.  They’re just overwhelming.  Douglas firs.  They always smell the best- like a mountain forest.

I usually get my Douglas fir down at my favorite hardware store.  I have a rule.  I will not pay more than $40.00 for my tree.  OK over the years I have to admit that rule has sort of been measured on a slide-ruler.  Back in the 90’s the price cap was $25.00.  It’s the 21st century.  You have to adapt.  Anyway, for some reason I let my wife talk me into supporting the nursery store across the street from my favorite hardware store. The owner of that place is a swell guy and he is always donating plants and ferns and shit to local school causes.  Well I’m normally all for that and actually I did find an acceptable tree there that was only five dollars more than the Douglas firs selling at the hardware store. The price was $39.  So I bought it. I stuck it in our tree stand, and after my wife applied all her decorating skills it looked pretty damn good.    Me with my tree in happier days  

About three days later we started to notice a peculiar odor that seemed to be coming from the tree and believe me there was nothing about it that hinted of a mountain forest.  After some google inquiries we were able to identify it.  Cat pee.  Google it yourself if you don’t believe me.  According to my web search when a conifer is close to completely expiring, emitting that smell can be a common occurrence.  I beg to differ.  I have a lifetime of experience with Douglas firs and this was a totally uncommon occurrence.  The smell got worse as the days went by, and was so offensive I decided if my wife wanted to disassemble the thing and decorate a replacement, I would go get one.  She was even more dismayed than I was because holiday guests were on their way and she felt it would be inhospitable to welcome them into a home that smelled like a giant litter-box.  So off I went, four days before Christmas, in search of a six to seven foot Douglas fir.  I had to drive 15 miles to find one, and was happy I did, but not particularly overjoyed when I had to pay $55 for the damn thing.

But we had our tree, my wife did her thing with the decorations, and all was well- until Christmas day.  The new tree started to smell just like the previous one.  Your twisted mind might think there is something humorous about that, but you can come and kiss my ass.  Something is wrong out there so I think you better start paying attention.  It’s about climate change, or even maybe the End Times thing is starting up.  I really don’t know what that’s all about but I can tell you this shit isn’t normal so you just better wake up.

When our holiday company woke up the next day, they became very aware of the tree odor too, and were relieved they had a plane to catch.  Though it is traditional to leave our tree up and decorated till New Years Eve, it was out the door within an hour of their departure.

A boy scout knocked as instructed, and I went to greet him with my five dollar bill in hand.  That’s when I started having flashbacks of my boy scout experiences with older tight-wads and so I dug into my wallet for a ten, or another five, but only had a one and a twenty.  So the scouts got a $6 donation.  If you think the nice thing to do was part with the twenty bucks, you have your head up your ass.  Talk to me later.  If the scouts show up in ten degree weather and there is a foot of snow in my driveway, I might work something out with them.  I’ll even throw in a cup of hot chocolate.