The Christmas Problem, Again

“Hi, love. What’s up?”

“Here we go again.What do you want for Christmas?”

“Hmm. Anything?”

“As long as it’s within reason.”

“Okay, I want you! We already sleep together so I’d say it’s ‘Within Reason’.”

“Get serious, Doug, I don’t want to go through this again. You’re never serious about anything.”

“Old people sit around and think about what they can’t do any more. That’s serious.”

“Well, you’re 75 and you can’t even stand up straight, you qualify.”

“Only if I let it, and I’m not going to. I plan to live to be a thousand and I’m 7.5% of the way there.”

“Damn it! See! You’re always making a joke of everything and I can never get a strait answer out of you.”

“Gail, sweetheart, love of my life, I must make a joke of it. Half my spine is fused because I was very strong and stupid when I was young and getting to 817 pounds in a dead lift was really dumb! Damage accumulates! Then prostate cancer and the radiation to kill it scarred everything and now I either wear two Nephrostomy tubes or die. It’s either joke about it or cry about it and I don’t want to cry.”

“But, that’s very serious and I worry about you.”

“Sweetheart, I’m terrified by it all, but Harry Potter taught me something; if it’s fearful, make it ridiculous. How can you be afraid of a monster in a pink tutu or whatever. Besides, It’s my problem and I caused it so why would I make everyone else suffer?”

“Oh, Doug, I’m sorry. I’ll leave you alone.”

“How about Amazon or Abe Books gift cards? There are some books on writing I’d like.”

“I love you, Doug.”

“You could be the ribbon and bow.”

“Okay ... What do I get?”