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What Do You Get a Vegetarian, Condo Dweller For Christmas?

December 17, 2012

My dad called me a couple of weeks ago. If you know my father, you understand that is strange in itself but you don’t know my dad so I’ll move on. He asked me for my address, which I gave him and then, trying to keep the confusion out of my voice asked why he wanted it. He responded that he was sending me something.

“For Christmas?” I asked, completely dumbfounded.

“I suppose it could be for Christmas,” he answered, “but I didn’t wrap it or anything.”

My father has never given me a Christmas gift in my life. “Oh…” was all I could thing to say.

“But you will need a hammer and a screwdriver to open it. Do you have those or should I send some tools as well?”

“No, I have a hammer and screwdriver. I should be fine.”

“D.C., this gift is kind of…special.”

“Special?!?!” I may have raised my voice at this point. I have never heard my dad utter the word “special” in his life, as he has always held the firm stance that men who use words such as “special” are totally gay.

“Special,” he replied. I could visualize his mouth forming into a thin line as they do when he is trying to express the importance of the subject at hand.

“Geez, Dad. A “special” gift. Are you dying or something?”

At this, we both cracked up because my dad is, in fact, dying of something. We’ve all known about it for a while now.

When my boyfriend woke up I told him that my dad would be sending me a Christmas present, and that I would need a hammer and a screwdriver to open it. He asked if I knew what it was. “Probably a geode or something,” I responded. “Although we would need to take it to your friend with a wet saw to get a clean cut on it.”

After that mini conversation, I called my mom and one of my good friends to tell them my dad was sending me a present. Neither of them had a better clue as to what it could be so I put the whole matter out of my mind and went about my day.

Last night the concierge called me to tell me I had a package. Aย  giant package. They lent me a cart to take it up to my condo. The damn box was stapled together so I got out the screwdriver, pried out the staples and peeled away the card board, only to find a crate underneath the exterior packaging. So I got to work…

Now folks, I ask, what does a man give his vegetarian, condo dwelling daughter for her first ever Christmas present from him? Well, if you’re my dad, you give…

A set ofย  three-point deer antlers, freshly mounted.

deer antlers

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14 Comments leave one →
  1. Tymber Dalton permalink
    December 17, 2012 3:02 pm

    Well… it’s the thought that…counts? I guess?

    • December 17, 2012 3:11 pm

      You’re right, Tymber. I called to thank him for the thoughtful gift. He explained how this is his new hobby. He’s a huge hunter so it was only a matter of time before he started doing something with the antlers. I guess.

  2. Amy permalink
    December 17, 2012 5:24 pm

    That is a riot! ๐Ÿ™‚

  3. December 17, 2012 7:39 pm

    Wow, does he know you’re a vegetarian? I guess he figured you didn’t have to eat it or anything. I actually thought you were going to say a coconut; then I read further :(. You may have been offended, but you have to admit it was pretty funny.
    Jae Mac, I’m Just Sayin’…(Damn!)

    • December 18, 2012 2:57 am

      He knows, I just don’t think he get’s it. ๐Ÿ™‚ You’re right, though. It’s hilarious story to tell.

  4. December 17, 2012 9:51 pm

    It certainly is a unique gift. I may just be your typical carnivore but I have never received deer antlers as a present, and I don’t think I ever shall or want to (where oh where would I keep them). Like jae mac said, since you didn’t have to eat the deer, it should be cool. Second hand karma. Just don’t mail it to me.

  5. December 17, 2012 10:55 pm

    That’s the most random thing I’ve heard in ages. Wow, well at least it’s a unique gift. You’ll be the only girl with one of those on Christmas Day!

  6. juliabarrett permalink
    December 18, 2012 2:08 am

    Oh my gosh. Interesting dad.

  7. December 21, 2012 8:38 am

    Love it! That sounds just like something my dad would do!

Trackbacks

  1. Hanging Antlers: Some Decisions Are Best Made Drunk « D.C. McMillen

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