The Christmas Cactus

I’d bought us a Christmas cactus to breathe some life into the fucking emptiness of our relationship. It had a Santa hat on made of felt and a couple of comically misplaced wobbly eyes. It was one of those cacti covered in white fluff, which was supposed to represent Santa’s beard, but instead it covered every single inch of the spiky bastard, which instead made it look a bit like a yeti. A yeti with spines and a Santa hat, just the thing to make everything better.

You looked at me with vague disgust as I put the cactus on the windowsill in the kitchen and I imagined myself shoving it down your throat. Your eyes would start bleeding for some reason and I would dance around in your entrails- you were right in saying we didn’t need tinsel because your intestines would more than make up for it.

Did I want a toastie, you enquired. Did I want a fucking toastie? But of course I did; does a bear shit in the woods? Does a Christmas cactus create infinite happiness? When you bend a Haribo Vampire Fang in half does it sort of look like a vagina? The answer to all of these questions was clearly yes. I ate the toastie and fucked you until we were even.

The next day one of the eyeballs had fallen off the cactus and I launched it out of the window into a group of teenagers, and watched as they bled everywhere and yelled, and such. I heard you giggling behind me as one of them went to call an ambulance and my face burst into a smile. We held hands and stood by the window for a little longer whilst the teenagers picked spines from the inside of their mouths. Happy fucking Christmas.


9 thoughts on “The Christmas Cactus

  1. Ladies and jellyspoons, I’ve been in the hospital for the last few days with DKA but just wanted to let you all know that I’m alive and well, and such. This story was written a couple of weeks ago, and there is another one for next week- I had planned to write an epic Christmas-based story for the week after that (Christmas week), but I’m going to take a bit of time off while I recuperate. I love ya’ll and will probably be stalking people’s blogs, but I might not be able to respond for a couple of weeks while I make sure I’m not dead.

    Just wanted to say Merry Christmas to you all, and I hope you all have a very Happy New Year. I shall return with dead kitties and the suchlike in the new year, I am sure, but until then, keep safe and enjoy the pigeons who will be pecking out your eyes with next week’s story.

    Much love! Anna x


    1. Anna, I’m so sorry… Looked it up, that sounds so serious… Did it happen due to not managing your insulin properly?

      You’ve definitely been missed… Is treatment going ok?

      Take care of yourself, and know that you are Loved, and You Are Missed

      Merry Christmas and Happy New Year to you too




  2. Do you think the reverse could work on that vampire fangs bit? You know, like could I unfold my vagina and jump out of dark places and scare people? Perhaps not. It was just a thought.

    Happy fucking Christmas, Anna! Or at least happy fucking. And a toastie.


    1. Annie! I’ve been really sick in hospital for the last four days and reading your comment on my phone in the middle of the night while some of the patients were trying to escape through the window really, really made me smile. Happy fucking Christmas indeed! You’re a treasure and I love you.


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