christmas at a girlfriend’s work

my time with Tessa was pretty much up

it was on the cards –
it did not need a tarot reader –
sex had dwindled from a summer
of no holds barred
to an autumn of no chance
of any hold at all.

so, in October when she asked
if I’d be her school Santa –
I figured, despite the evidence,
I must still be ‘well in there’.

‘maybe you’ve misread the runes
it’s a ‘woman thing’ she’s going through.’

(whatever that was)

I do not ‘do’ Christmas
for cliché reasons
and a few known only to me.
but if I played the part
my parts should get played with too –

a drunken, fumbling, kissy kissy
‘thank you, darling’ would do.

from September to December
in an unspoken love-ban
Theresa reprised Lysistrata
to perfection.

while she tossed and turned
whistled, purred, and snored.
beside me – but not touching.
I laid awake wondering
what I’d done wrong,
weighing various options.

‘ hang in there – there’s still hope… maybe.
at least you’ve got the front door key’

Father Christmas day:

the school sec. passed me a bin liner
of Santa Claus regalia
and opened a broom cupboard,
‘get changed in there.’

a commotion down the corridor;

a Monster Munchy 10 year old
frog-marched to the Head Teacher’s door
pinned down on the ‘naughty sofa.’

‘stop fighting! stop biting! sit still…

‘fat chance of that’

… just wait till your mum and dad get here!’

I belted a cushion around my waist.
put on a rancid Santa uniform
and (two sizes too big) wellingtons.

then hung an itchy cotton wool beard on,
and lo! the transformation was done.

I opened the door and into the corridor

the ‘bad lad’ gasped
his mouth dropped open
he stared wide-eyed
and leapt from the sofa

I feared for
my redundant genitalia.

his arms pincered me
bear-hugging to a point
beyond excruciation.

then he released the death grip,
ran off, kicking doors and shouting

“Father Christmas is here! the real one!”

Tess was not in her class
a bored ‘supply’ shrugged,
‘left at dinner due to an
‘unforeseen domestic situation’.’

bus home for Santa, then.

a note pinned to her door,
‘thanks for today…
and everything.
I’m sure my class will love you.
I’m away for christmas.
leave the key next door.’

I never saw Tessa again.


© coolhermit 2020
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critique and comments welcome.
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8 months ago

What a graphic and dire picture. I hope this isn’t based on real life. Either way, I was there all the way through.

P.S. I tried to reply to your message but now I can’t find it! I’ll keep looking.

8 months ago

I love the way you can make the reader live the whole experience with you simply through your amazing ability with words. sue.

8 months ago

Brilliant, involving, lovely and lively. One thing is sure, I cannot write with such mastery.

8 months ago

I’ve been a bit remiss reading your work recently. Sorry about that. This piece is so full of woe and yet very entertaining in the classy way you put it over. I never cease to be amazed at the how devious women can be when they put their mind to it. They are just too clever for us poor blokes.

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