O.T My Favorite Christmas present story. - MAACA ARCHIVES - JOIN THE NEW FORUM AT HTTP://WWW.MAACA.ORG

OK, more than enough people have replied.
So as per my promise here it is; enjoy!

It was Dec 24th 2001 and my immediate family had gathered at my parent’s for our Christmas dinner & gift exchange.
The meal was extra large this particular year.
It seamed that my mother and grandmother couldn’t come to terms on what to have, so they decided that the best thing to do would be to cook both a turkey and a ham.
Not wanting to offend, we had full portions of each.

After dinner, we retired to the living room and engaged in seasonal chitchat about the weather, world happenings and other such things.
I guess it was inevitable that the topic would soon make its way to my brother, who was now living in BC and didn’t make it home that year.

My wife, Sandra, was the first to broach the subject. “So how is Mark?”
“Oh he’s fine.”  My mother’s face lit up at the opportunity to talk about her favorite son.
“He even sent home some presents for the family.”
It was at this point that her expression changed. She now had the look of somebody who’s told a secret to the wrong person.
You could almost feel the mood in the room change as the background conversations suddenly stopped.

Now, maybe Sandra didn’t notice or maybe she didn’t care but she pressed on.
“That’s nice.  What did he send?”
My mother, now looking more than just a little uncomfortable answered quietly, “He sent us a very nice charcoal portrait.”
Well the cat was out of the bag!
My father instantly grew interested in the bottom of his glass and took a long hard pull on his rum & coke.
My grandmother vainly tried to change the subject, “Oh my, what a pretty tree this year”
Ignoring this feeble attempt to save Christmas, my grandfather chuckled to Sandra, “You should really take a look at it; it’s quite the work of art.”
Gazing around the room it was obvious that this new ‘work of art’ had not yet been put on display.

“Where do you have it?” inquired Sandra.  “I would really like to see it.”
My mother fussed in her seat, “Oh, I have it put away upstairs in my hope chest.”
Reluctantly, she added, “Would you like to see it?”
“Sure,” said Sandra.
From the corner of my eye, I could see my father shaking his head. I turned slightly and it seemed that he was mouthing the word ‘no’ to me. Still not sure what was going on I took his advice.  “I think I’ll stay here and watch the baby; I’ll check it out later.”

Little did I realize that this was a one-time offer.  This wondrous “object de art,” to this day, has still not hung in my parent’s house.

My mother and wife went upstairs for the ‘unveiling’ while I sat downstairs with the remaining family who were now eager to forget the whole thing. Portrait?  What portrait?
We don’t know anything about a portrait.

It didn’t take long for Sandra to return. Visibly shaken, she quickly sat beside me and smacked me in the shoulder. “You jerk. Why didn’t you go with me”? She tried to keep her voice down but to no avail; overhearing this my grandfather broke out into laughter. “Quite the picture, eh?”
“What was it?”  I asked.
“You don’t want to know.”
“Oh come on, tell me.”
“I’ll tell you later, when we get home.”  And that was the last she would say on the matter.

My mother now returned to the room, “Can I get anybody something to drink?”  She asked as if nothing had happened. The evening’s festivities continued but there was uneasiness about them and we were glad when it was over.

Later, after we got home, I pressed Sandra for more information, “So?”
Looking pained she replied, “You really want to know? Fine I’ll tell you.  I went upstairs with your mother and she took out a large poster tube from her hope chest.”  Sandra paused as if trying to gather the strength to carry on.
“Come on, out with it, who was it a picture of?”
Sandra continued, “Well, she took the portrait from the tube and started to unroll it for me. It was quite large. At first all I saw was your Brother’s head.”  Sandra lowered her voice and continued. “Then she kept on unrolling it and there was his chest, then his stomach, and…..”
“And what?” I asked.
“Well?  What do you think came next, you idiot! His penis came next! Your brother sent your mother a nude portrait of himself!”
“A what?”
“You heard me, Mark posed for some artist who drew a full frontal, nude, charcoal portrait… And then he sent it to your mother for Christmas!”

Well that was it; I burst out in laughter.  “Damn… I didn’t realize that this was a nude portrait year. All I got her was some Body*Shop bath salts and a book.”
I continued to laugh into the wee hours of the morning.
Sandra wasn’t impressed.

Every year I silently thank my brother for that wondrous gift.
And why is that you ask?
Well it’s because I never again have to worry about finding a ‘perfect’ gift for my mom.
Nope, cause no matter what I pick it will always be a damn site better than the buck-a** naked portrait that he sent her in 01’…