As I’m writing this, it’s Cyber Monday, which means I should be shopping online, as about a zillion other people are doing at the moment.
Unfortunately, because there are so many people feverishly shopping, I tried but failed to even get online because I kept getting an error message that said to try again later. After trying about 25 “laters” without any success, I dozed off.
It's the same every December. Without fail, I spend countless hours searching online for new and unique Christmas gifts. I’m not satisfied unless the gifts I give incite a chorus of “oohs” and “aahs” and gasps of “Where on earth did you find this? I’ve never seen anything like it before!”
I have to confess, however, some of the gasps my gifts have incited probably couldn't be described as pleasurable ones…more like gasps of horror…but hey, at least I tried.
Still, I’d like to think my successes have outweighed my failures.
And speaking of failures, I often am reminded of one of my several less-than-successful gift ideas, mainly because I’d initially been so excited about it.
Back then, during my annual holiday search, I truly believed I’d finally found the perfect “ooh"-inspiring gift, one that would be suitable for everyone on my list. It was an eye-catching Christmas-tree-shaped candle covered with green glitter. But it wasn’t just any ordinary holiday candle. No, this candle was called the Money Tree, according to the title printed in big letters on the decorative box it came in.
The description of the candle stated that when it was lit, it melted down until it revealed genuine U.S. money (wrapped in protective foil) hidden inside. The lowest amount each tree was guaranteed to contain was one dollar. The highest was $50. I thought the candles sounded both intriguing and exciting…the equivalent of a 3-dimensional lottery scratch-ticket, which most people I know really enjoy. I mean, anyone who's ever been to one of those Yankee gift swaps during the Christmas season knows what I'm talking about. One minute the person opening a gift is saying, "Oh, what a lovely crocheted scarf!" And then in the very next breath, "But I want to trade it for the scratch tickets."
So I ordered a case of the candles.
When they arrived, I felt it was my duty to immediately test one to determine whether or not it was gift worthy. I opened one of the boxes, removed the candle and lit it.
Then I eagerly waited…and waited. And then I waited some more.
The candle burned so slowly, I figured that by the time it actually revealed the reward inside, the money would be rare, collectible currency. I was tempted to just grab a butcher knife and hack open the candle, but I was worried I might damage a $50 bill in the process, so I continued to wait.
As the candle melted, it formed a glittery green pool on the plate I’d had the good sense to put underneath it. I blew on the candle, thinking it might burn faster, but all I succeeded in doing was blowing out the flame.
Finally, after standing there so long while waiting for the candle to reveal my impending treasure, my eyeballs were flickering, I saw a flash of silver poking out of the wax. Without thinking, I reached to grab it.
“Yeeeoooww!” I shouted, frantically blowing on my glittery, wax-covered fingertips. That’s when I happened to notice, written in bold letters on the back of the box, “Tweezers, not bare fingers, should be used to remove the money from the candle!”
I rushed to find my tweezers, then grasped the silvery treasure and yanked it out of the candle.
It was a foil-wrapped Susan B. Anthony dollar.
I frowned, upset that I’d nearly burned off most of my identifiable fingerprints for only a lousy dollar. Even worse, each candle had cost me nearly $15.
Still, I mailed a couple of the candles to my out-of-state friends, including one to my friend Pam in Scotland. For that one, I had to pay so much for the postage, I expected the package to be sitting in a first-class seat at the front of the plane and being served champagne.
I kept the rest of the candles to wrap and give to other friends on my list.
But when one of the out-of-state friends called me the week before Christmas to tell me she’d already lit her candle and it had contained a $20 bill, I found myself staring greedily at the remaining candles, which I'd already wrapped.
“I can always buy scratch tickets for Angie,” I reasoned as I tore into her gift and lit the candle.
After what seemed like 200 hours later, another Susan B. Anthony dollar finally emerged.
So I decided to try just one more candle…and then another.
I ended up with a nice collection of Susan B. Anthony dollars (and then had to rush out to buy last-minute replacement gifts).
On New Year’s Day, Pam in Scotland informed me she still hadn’t received my gift.
That night, as I was lying in bed, a scary thought crossed my mind about the delay of Pam's package. What if when it was x-rayed by Customs, they’d noticed that the candle contained something hidden deep inside…something wrapped in foil, which was guaranteed to raise a bunch of red flags?
After that, I expected the police to burst through my door at any moment and arrest me for suspicion of smuggling contraband inside Christmas-tree candles.
“Well, if they do,” my husband said with a shrug when I expressed my concerns to him, “at least I can bail you out of jail with Susan B. Anthony dollars.”
Nobody likes a wiseguy.
# # #
Sally Breslin is an award-winning syndicated humor columnist who has written regularly for newspapers and magazines all of her adult life. She is the author of several novels in a variety of genres, from humor and romance to science-fiction. Contact her at: sillysally@att.net.
No comments:
Post a Comment