It being the holidays and all (at least that's what the store ads are shouting), I decided to print this for your emetic pleasure...
The illustrations were drawn by Willow...
"C IS FOR CORNY!" ;)
O CACTUS TREE! (CHILDREN’S CATEGORY)
There is a place in the middle of the desert called the Mirage Hotel.
It is a wondrous place, filled with anything and everything you could ever dream of. A lot of water, first of all, shimmering in large pools. And camels. And food, mostly figs and dates, but they’ve got a lot of cheetos, and chocolates, and, well, anything else your mother never allows you to slip into the shopping cart.
Although it is in the middle of the desert, it is never in the same place for very long. Lots of people have seen it, but they either waited too long, or waited too little, and by the time they got there, well, it wasn’t there any more.
At the Mirage Hotel, there lived a talking Cactus tree named, appropriately, Cactus. He was a tall green cactus, shaped like a man, covered in spiny yellow needles. And at the top of what looked like his head, every once in a while, a beautiful flower bloomed.
His best friend was the Sandman. He looked kind of like a Snowman, only he was made of sand. And instead of standing up, he was always lying down. The Sandman was a very sleepy fellow, you see.
One hot summer day (it was always hot and always summer at the Mirage Hotel), the Sandman had a newspaper draped over his face. Cactus thought he was asleep, as usual. So he was surprised when Sandman shouted through the newspaper.
“Cactus,” he yawned, “Check this out.”
“What?” Cactus said.
“There’s a contest that’s going to happen right here, tomorrow. A Christmas Tree contest. The winner gets to be the new Christmas Tree, and have his picture taken in all the coldest places in the world. And he gets to take along a friend.” Sandman’s voice, which was rarely more than a sleepy murmur, for once sounded excited. “Cactus, this might be your ticket out of here! It might be our ticket out of here!”
For although the Mirage Hotel was a wonderful place, it was always dreadfully hot. For Cactus and Sandman, cold sounded nice.
“What are the rules?” Cactus asked excitedly.
“See for yourself.”
And Cactus bent over to pick up the newspaper. Only, because he didn’t have fingers, the best he could do was stab his needles through the paper.
“Ouch!” cried Sandman.
“Sorry,” mumbled Cactus. And he clumsily spread the newspaper, tearing it some more in the process. This is what he read:
“Christmas Tree Contest Rules. Two Rules. Rule Number One: You must be an evergreen-” Cactus turned to Sandman. “What’s an evergreen?” he asked.
“It’s a tree that- is always green,” mumbled Sandman, who was already falling asleep.
“Check,” chimed Cactus happily. And he continued to read. “Rule Number Two: You must be a conifer-“ Cactus again turned to Sandman. “What’s a conifer?” he asked.
But Sandman was already asleep, snoring peacefully.
Cactus read on, and thankfully got an answer. Or at least part of it. The article said: “A conifer is a tree that has needles for leaves.“
“Check Check!” chimed Cactus happily, wiggling his many many needles.
And he continued to read. “A conifer also has cones for-“ But the last word had been stabbed through by his needles, and could not be read.
“Cones for what?” Cactus wondered. “Cones for- ice cream? Cones for- redirecting traffic?” Finally, he decided. “It must be cones for heads. It must be that.” And he walked over to the Hat Boutique at the Mirage Hotel, and among the many turbans, he was able to find one single purple cone hat, large enough to fit over his head. “Perfect!” he shouted, trying it on.
The very next day, he went to the Mirage Hotel Ballroom, where the contest was to be held.
Poor Cactus. Little did he know that the contest was a big marketing scheme. The rules prevented most trees from entering, except evergreen conifers, which was what Christmas Trees basically were anyway. One of the most popular traditional Christmas Trees, the Silver Fir, was going to win the contest no matter what. And it would get a big boost in publicity at the same time.
Cactus stood proudly in the middle of the ballroom, amidst giant sequoias, dwarf pines, even recumbent junipers, his tall purple cone hat making him stand out.
The judges assigned each of the contestants a number. Cactus was Number 11. The judges then called out the numbers of the trees one by one, letting them know that they weren’t Christmas Tree material. “Number 253!” “Number 17!” “Number 21!” Gradually, the ballroom got emptier and emptier.
Soon, there were only two trees left: #11 Cactus, and the shoe-in winner, #7 the Silver Fir, who was already dressed in Christmas ornaments and flickering electric Christmas lights. Although the judges had already made up their minds, they didn’t know what to think of Cactus, and wanted to ask him some questions.
“So, Number 11,” the head judge said, “Cactus, is it? Why are you wearing that ridiculous purple hat?”
Cactus suddenly felt embarrassed. He realized that none of the other trees in the contest had worn a cone hat, including #7. The Silver Fir shook its needles in laughter, giving off a fresh mountain scent. “Uh,” Cactus muttered, leaning this way and that, not knowing how to answer.
“Psst,” whispered a voice. When Cactus looked down, he noticed Sandman lying on the floor right behind him. “Tell them it’s a Christmas decoration.”
“It’s my, uh, Christmas decoration,” Cactus told the judges.
“Unusual,” murmured the head judge. “And original.”
The Silver Fir bristled its needles in indignation. “What!?” it shouted. “Why are you wasting time listening to this- this impostor! He’s no conifer! Ask him about his seeds already!”
The head judge nodded. “Number 11, conifers have cones for seeds. What about you? Where are your seeds?”
Cactus bowed his head. So that’s what conifers had cones for! Seeds! He shook his head, dejected. “I- don’t have any.”
The head judge nodded. “Well, I’m sorry,” he said. “I guess that means we have our winner.”
“Alright!” shouted Silver Fir. “It’s about time!”
Cactus shuffled away sadly as a chorus sang “Oh Christmas Tree,” and the head judge walked up to the new (and old) winner to crown it with a super bright halogen star.
But then something happened. The Mirage Hotel was a hot place, you remember, and during the contest, the Silver Fir’s needles had become very dry. So as soon as the super bright (and super hot) halogen star was placed upon its head, it ignited and set the tree ablaze. “Help! Help!!!” it screamed, shaking off ornaments.
Without a thought, Cactus rushed over to the Silver Fir, and poked holes into his own body with his needles. Water shot forth from the holes in tiny jets, and he aimed them carefully at the fire.
Within a matter of seconds, the fire was out! The Silver Fir was almost as good as usual, only the leaves up top were singed and blackened. Cactus carefully removed the purple cone hat from his head, and placed it over the Silver Fir’s burnt head.
“Thank you,” said the Silver Fir in gratitude.
Everyone in the ballroom gasped. For on Cactus’s now hatless head was a beautiful blossom. It was silver and gold colored, and shaped like a many pointed star.
Everyone agreed after that that Cactus should be the new Christmas Tree. He had been selfless and brave in saving the Silver Fir. And he had grown his own star. It also turns out that he was a lot easier to decorate than the previous Christmas Tree; all you had to do was hang an ornament on all of his yellow spiny needles.
So, Cactus and his best friend Sandman got to leave the Mirage Hotel and travel all over the wintry places of the world, and places that weren’t so wintry but were wonderful anyway, like Hawaii, spreading desert warmth and Christmas cheer, and feeling “cool” for the first time in their lives. And everywhere they went, people sang:
“Oh Cactus Tree, Oh Cactus Tree, of all the trees most spiky,
Oh Cactus Tree, Oh Cactus Tree, of all the trees most spiky,
Each year you make a point to be, the very coolest Christmas tree,
Oh Cactus Tree, Oh Cactus Tree, of all the trees most spiky.”
(Sandman had a song for himself, to the same tune, which he would attempt to sing afterwards as a second verse. It was called "Oh Tan and Brown." But he always fell asleep after the first line.)
MERRY CHRISTMAS!
It is a wondrous place, filled with anything and everything you could ever dream of. A lot of water, first of all, shimmering in large pools. And camels. And food, mostly figs and dates, but they’ve got a lot of cheetos, and chocolates, and, well, anything else your mother never allows you to slip into the shopping cart.
Although it is in the middle of the desert, it is never in the same place for very long. Lots of people have seen it, but they either waited too long, or waited too little, and by the time they got there, well, it wasn’t there any more.
At the Mirage Hotel, there lived a talking Cactus tree named, appropriately, Cactus. He was a tall green cactus, shaped like a man, covered in spiny yellow needles. And at the top of what looked like his head, every once in a while, a beautiful flower bloomed.
His best friend was the Sandman. He looked kind of like a Snowman, only he was made of sand. And instead of standing up, he was always lying down. The Sandman was a very sleepy fellow, you see.
One hot summer day (it was always hot and always summer at the Mirage Hotel), the Sandman had a newspaper draped over his face. Cactus thought he was asleep, as usual. So he was surprised when Sandman shouted through the newspaper.
“Cactus,” he yawned, “Check this out.”
“What?” Cactus said.
“There’s a contest that’s going to happen right here, tomorrow. A Christmas Tree contest. The winner gets to be the new Christmas Tree, and have his picture taken in all the coldest places in the world. And he gets to take along a friend.” Sandman’s voice, which was rarely more than a sleepy murmur, for once sounded excited. “Cactus, this might be your ticket out of here! It might be our ticket out of here!”
For although the Mirage Hotel was a wonderful place, it was always dreadfully hot. For Cactus and Sandman, cold sounded nice.
“What are the rules?” Cactus asked excitedly.
“See for yourself.”
And Cactus bent over to pick up the newspaper. Only, because he didn’t have fingers, the best he could do was stab his needles through the paper.
“Ouch!” cried Sandman.
“Sorry,” mumbled Cactus. And he clumsily spread the newspaper, tearing it some more in the process. This is what he read:
“Christmas Tree Contest Rules. Two Rules. Rule Number One: You must be an evergreen-” Cactus turned to Sandman. “What’s an evergreen?” he asked.
“It’s a tree that- is always green,” mumbled Sandman, who was already falling asleep.
“Check,” chimed Cactus happily. And he continued to read. “Rule Number Two: You must be a conifer-“ Cactus again turned to Sandman. “What’s a conifer?” he asked.
But Sandman was already asleep, snoring peacefully.
Cactus read on, and thankfully got an answer. Or at least part of it. The article said: “A conifer is a tree that has needles for leaves.“
“Check Check!” chimed Cactus happily, wiggling his many many needles.
And he continued to read. “A conifer also has cones for-“ But the last word had been stabbed through by his needles, and could not be read.
“Cones for what?” Cactus wondered. “Cones for- ice cream? Cones for- redirecting traffic?” Finally, he decided. “It must be cones for heads. It must be that.” And he walked over to the Hat Boutique at the Mirage Hotel, and among the many turbans, he was able to find one single purple cone hat, large enough to fit over his head. “Perfect!” he shouted, trying it on.
The very next day, he went to the Mirage Hotel Ballroom, where the contest was to be held.
Poor Cactus. Little did he know that the contest was a big marketing scheme. The rules prevented most trees from entering, except evergreen conifers, which was what Christmas Trees basically were anyway. One of the most popular traditional Christmas Trees, the Silver Fir, was going to win the contest no matter what. And it would get a big boost in publicity at the same time.
Cactus stood proudly in the middle of the ballroom, amidst giant sequoias, dwarf pines, even recumbent junipers, his tall purple cone hat making him stand out.
The judges assigned each of the contestants a number. Cactus was Number 11. The judges then called out the numbers of the trees one by one, letting them know that they weren’t Christmas Tree material. “Number 253!” “Number 17!” “Number 21!” Gradually, the ballroom got emptier and emptier.
Soon, there were only two trees left: #11 Cactus, and the shoe-in winner, #7 the Silver Fir, who was already dressed in Christmas ornaments and flickering electric Christmas lights. Although the judges had already made up their minds, they didn’t know what to think of Cactus, and wanted to ask him some questions.
“So, Number 11,” the head judge said, “Cactus, is it? Why are you wearing that ridiculous purple hat?”
Cactus suddenly felt embarrassed. He realized that none of the other trees in the contest had worn a cone hat, including #7. The Silver Fir shook its needles in laughter, giving off a fresh mountain scent. “Uh,” Cactus muttered, leaning this way and that, not knowing how to answer.
“Psst,” whispered a voice. When Cactus looked down, he noticed Sandman lying on the floor right behind him. “Tell them it’s a Christmas decoration.”
“It’s my, uh, Christmas decoration,” Cactus told the judges.
“Unusual,” murmured the head judge. “And original.”
The Silver Fir bristled its needles in indignation. “What!?” it shouted. “Why are you wasting time listening to this- this impostor! He’s no conifer! Ask him about his seeds already!”
The head judge nodded. “Number 11, conifers have cones for seeds. What about you? Where are your seeds?”
Cactus bowed his head. So that’s what conifers had cones for! Seeds! He shook his head, dejected. “I- don’t have any.”
The head judge nodded. “Well, I’m sorry,” he said. “I guess that means we have our winner.”
“Alright!” shouted Silver Fir. “It’s about time!”
Cactus shuffled away sadly as a chorus sang “Oh Christmas Tree,” and the head judge walked up to the new (and old) winner to crown it with a super bright halogen star.
But then something happened. The Mirage Hotel was a hot place, you remember, and during the contest, the Silver Fir’s needles had become very dry. So as soon as the super bright (and super hot) halogen star was placed upon its head, it ignited and set the tree ablaze. “Help! Help!!!” it screamed, shaking off ornaments.
Without a thought, Cactus rushed over to the Silver Fir, and poked holes into his own body with his needles. Water shot forth from the holes in tiny jets, and he aimed them carefully at the fire.
Within a matter of seconds, the fire was out! The Silver Fir was almost as good as usual, only the leaves up top were singed and blackened. Cactus carefully removed the purple cone hat from his head, and placed it over the Silver Fir’s burnt head.
“Thank you,” said the Silver Fir in gratitude.
Everyone in the ballroom gasped. For on Cactus’s now hatless head was a beautiful blossom. It was silver and gold colored, and shaped like a many pointed star.
Everyone agreed after that that Cactus should be the new Christmas Tree. He had been selfless and brave in saving the Silver Fir. And he had grown his own star. It also turns out that he was a lot easier to decorate than the previous Christmas Tree; all you had to do was hang an ornament on all of his yellow spiny needles.
So, Cactus and his best friend Sandman got to leave the Mirage Hotel and travel all over the wintry places of the world, and places that weren’t so wintry but were wonderful anyway, like Hawaii, spreading desert warmth and Christmas cheer, and feeling “cool” for the first time in their lives. And everywhere they went, people sang:
“Oh Cactus Tree, Oh Cactus Tree, of all the trees most spiky,
Oh Cactus Tree, Oh Cactus Tree, of all the trees most spiky,
Each year you make a point to be, the very coolest Christmas tree,
Oh Cactus Tree, Oh Cactus Tree, of all the trees most spiky.”
(Sandman had a song for himself, to the same tune, which he would attempt to sing afterwards as a second verse. It was called "Oh Tan and Brown." But he always fell asleep after the first line.)
MERRY CHRISTMAS!
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