The 2017 Dillon Critter Christmas Letter

The 2017 Dillon Critter Christmas Letter

Narrated by: Khali the new kitten

Written by: Moby because he's the eldest and would beat my ass if I didn't let him

Stupid ideas and smart ass remarks by: inferior cats;

Poe, Fathead, Lily, Splave, Shocky, Mama, Petunia & Beepers

& Mutts (Mom made me include them)

Quincy, Igor & Yeti

Hi everybody! I'm Khali, the newest member of the Dillon clan. The dogs aren't happy that I have the honor of writing this years letter. But once they see what a good job I do, they'll forget all about being mad at me. If they don't...oh well, they can suck my balls. If I had balls. Oh that wasn't very nice of me was it? I'll burn in Hell later.

Ain't I friggin cute?

A little about myself first. Mom took me in the first day I was to start cooking at a Chinese restaurant. I'm a Cancer...I like to grab feet while hiding under the coffee table.  I enjoy helping mom and dad wash dishes aaaand....I'm addicted to discovering the effect of negative ions while they replicate invarious dark matter in relationship to universal quarks. It's a hobby.

For this years letter, we wanted to do something a little different. We wanted to tell you about our Christmas traditions or a certain Christmas memory we had before being sold into slavery. Moby will go first.


Moby: I'll never forget that one Christmas....we didn't have a lot of money to buy every cat and kitten in our household a gift, so we took the time to stuff different colored yarn inside the crevices of the old lady that took care of us. We did this AFTER she croaked so don't get all bent out of shape snowflake. After we said our sacred feline prayer of, "Yub yub, thanks for the grub," we munched the shit out of her, which, contrary to popular belief, people do NOT taste like chicken. We each ingested a bit of string and waited. After a few days we started pooping out the string and that's when the excitement began. We'd rush to figure out who pooped out the same color! Well...after we washed it off. And we'd exchange gifts with the kitten who had the same color string....errr...wait...or was that the year we had to fight to the death and then eat the kitten that pooped out the same colored string?  Dammit, there were some bad winters when we were growing up.

This is good to know....

Khali: Ah...okay. Ummmm...Poe, it's your turn.

Poe: When I was a wee kitten, we knew and sang only one Christmas song, it was, I'm Dreaming of a White Christmas. It was a family favorite.

Khali: I love that song too!

Poe: Unfortunately, you aren't pure enough to sing that song with me. You're a filthy spotted half breed.

Khali: What???

Poe:  It's a known fact, 'white is right!' Heil Hitler's cat, Commandant Pretzel Bunz!

Follows the preaching of Commandant Pretzel Buns

Khali: Jesus strawberry eating Christ, what the hell???  I didn't know you were a racist bastard!

Quincy: Ummm...what do you think his costume was for Halloween? He wore a sheet and carried a torch?

Khali: I thought he was a ghost and he didn't have a flashlight!

Igor: O...M...G. You are one stupid pussy.

Igor's not impressed with 'stupid pussies'

Khali: AM NOT!

Igor: Are too.

Yeti: It's okay if you're stupid. They call me names too. Kinda like when the other reindeer  bullied Rudolph. Wanna eat some chalk?

Khali: Ah... HELL NO!  Will someone else please tell us about your non-racist tradition!!!

Fathead: At the first big snow, my family would all go outside and frolic. It was magical. But...one year, I took my special Christmas present outside. It was a Red Rider BB gun....

Khali: Oh no! Did you shoot your eye out?  Is that how you fucked up your eye?

Tragic diabeetus accident

Fathead: What the hell are you talking about?  I didn't shoot my eye out. For your information, I lost my eye in a freak two-car diabeetus accident. No, I took my Red Rider BB gun out and took out a gang of bikers that tried to take over our territory. That sent out the message far and wide that you never mess with the Cats of Anarchy! We feasted on their carcasses for weeks. We took their old ladies as new breeders for the club too. Hell, you could be one of my great-great-great-great-great grand kittens. Wanna join the club? I gotta shank you first.

Khali: MOMMMM!! "Screams and runs under the couch."

Quincy: Okay, back to the dogs running the show. Lily, you're up next. Tell em about your old traditions.

Lily: I lost my only kitten around this time a year ago....

Quincy: Ah shit here we go...

Lily: I told him to hold my paw when he crossed the street but he thought he was a big boy and refused...

Lily's Severed Head

Quincy: That's quite enough Lily...

Lily: I didn't even know what happened...

Quincy: Stop doing this to yourself...

Lily: And then....and then...."sniffle, sniffle"...I never saw it coming. And just like that, it hit him!

Quincy: Ah fuck.

Quincy's 'Ah fuck' face

Lily: Exactly! What hit him was the fucking notion that he would become a Trump supporter!

Quincy: Look, it's over. Ya just gotta move on...

Lily: He's found a crunchy Cheeto under the couch cushions and knitted suits out of scraps of fabric and belly button lint for it. He calls it Donald!

Quincy:  Do any of you damn cats have some nip for this bitch????

Lily: He dead to me. DEAD!

Quincy: This idea you had for the Christmas letter really sucks Khali! Hey, you...Oreo brothers. Do you have a happy holiday story?

SPLAVEAGE

Splave: Why yes we do. Thanks  for asking. Since we are Spanish....

Quincy: ...you are not Spanish.

Splave: Really? Okay...then since we're Jewish....

Quincy: ...you're not Jewish either.

Shocky: But...we wear yarmulkes on our heads.

Shocky sans alien communication hat

Quincy: Those were tin foil pie pans. You wore them when you were trying to contact aliens.

Shocky: Soooo we're not Jewish?

Quincy: *sigh* No.

Splave: Well, then we got nothin.

THEY GOT NOTHIN

Quincy: Of course not....Mama, Beepers, Petunia--you're next.

Petunia: Our Mama here taught us how to make special cakes made with almond paste, milk and shrapnel. We called them...bombs.

Petunia & Mama exhausted from making cake bombs

Beepers refused a photo. This was the best we could do.

Quincy: Err...you mean they ARE the bomb?

Petunia: Uhhhh...sure.

Beepers: Mama taught us how to sneak into homes by greasing our fur with chunky Vaseline and Cool Whip, setting us up for easy access down chimneys so we could stuff the stockings of the bad little infidels with cakes... and turds.

Mama: FALALALALALALALALALALALAHOLLAAAAAAA!!!!

Mama hates infidels...but loves ham

Quincy: What the hell is she doing? She sounds like a turkey drag queen in heat.

Beepers: She is singing the song of our people. And she's cheering the fact that we blew up the neighbor's garbage can.

Quincy: And what did that prove?

Fathead disapproves

Petunia: It proves....stuff.  Oh by the way...I hope you're not attached to what's in your underwear drawer.

Khali: I don't think I wanna live here anymore.

Khali, wishing she didn't live here

Quincy: Sorry about your shitty luck kitten. You're screwed like the rest of us. Yeti, please share something less....murdery

Yeti: Oh yeah! Well, last year Mom and Dad got us the Roomba. It was the bestest present ever. I would ride on it and play bumper cars into walls and furniture. That one time we fell down the steps wasn't that fun but... I loved it.

Igor: Yeah, you loved it until...tell everyone what happened.

Yeti: Do I have to?

A clean shaven Poe here for no reason

Igor: Most definitely!

Yeti: *sigh* I loved it, until one day while I was riding the Roomba; pretending it was my mighty steed and I was a fierce knight going into battle, I charged my Roomba into a boulder filled swamp.

Quincy: Aaaaand...

Yeti: They weren't boulders.

Floating Yeti Sketti head

Quincy: And what were they?

Yeti: *mumbling*

Igor: SPEAK UP!

Yeti: They were gobs... of... creamy...warm poop.

Quincy: And what happened to that creamy, warm poop.

Yeti:  It got squished under the wheels....

Igor:  Aaaaand...

Yeti: It smeared poop all over the living room floor.

Quincy:  And why was Dad pissed?

Yeti: The Roomba stopped working.

Igor: And why did the Roomba stop working??

Yeti:  It died.

Petunia wanting to take responsibility for Roomba death

Quincy:  Mmmm hummm...explain.

Yeti: It... hung itself.

Igor: Yes, it hung itself. And what did the note say?

Yeti: *pulling out the note*  This isn't the first time. The little bastard is a shit loving freak. Please bury me next to the toaster. If you only knew what he jammed in there..."

Poop fiend

Khali: Ewwwww....

Quincy: Sick fucker, ain't he? Igor, ya have a tradition ya wanna share or a memory you need to confess to the police?

Igor: Not with my parole officer present.

His parole officer is not present

Quincy: Good, because I no longer care.

Khali: What about yours Quincy? Tell us your Christmas tradition.

Quincy: Well, there's the tradition where we haze the brand new family member.

Khali: You do??

Quincy: Yep, we hang the poor fuck from the chandelier and toss regurgitated hairballs and litter encrusted turds at them after a vigorous dousing of canned cheese whiz. (See Xmas Letter 2013)

Moby donated the litter encrusted turds

Igor: It's all good. You don't have balls so we'll just aim at your head.

Khali: MOOOOOOM!!!

Mama: FALALALALAALALALALAAAAAAA!!!!

                                          MERRY WHATEVER BITCHES!!

Beepers has been photographed. Holy shit! It's a Christmas miracle!





My book, Arithmophobia for Kindle

Yep, it's finally ready.  Well the Kindle edition is.  The physical.book.will be on the market very soon.  Check it out and give it a review.  Authors love reviews!

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B078BXK2DN

My Horror Tree Interview with THE Theresa Derwin

Feast your bleeding eyeballs on this enlightening yet humorous interview with Theresa Derwin.  Definitely an author to watch.

https://horrortree.com/horror-tree-presentstheresa-derwin/

My Horror Tree Interview with THE Drew Stepek

Drew is the author or Knuckle Supper, Knuckle Balled and Godless.  He's a quirky bugger who loves ass exploding chili and so much more. Check this talent out!


https://horrortree.com/?s=drew+stepek

The Horror Tree Interview with THE James Dorr

Here's the Horror Tree author interview with THE James Dorr.


He's such a cool dude!  Read up chillins!


https://horrortree.com/?s=james+dorr

Horror Tree Interview with THE William Cook

Why Stuart has my byline I have no clue. LOL  Ehhh...it's all good.


Here's my interview with the one and only William Cook.  Bad ass author and sexual ghost whisperer.  Enjoy!!


https://horrortree.com/?s=william+cook

2012 Dillon Critter Christmas Letter....

“10 Reasons You’re Not Getting A ‘Critter-Written’ Dillon Christmas Letter in 2012"

As Explained by; Ozzy, Tazzy, Quincy & the Cats; Sass, Bunson, Moby, Church, Poe, Lil B, Fathead, Spot, Petunia & Beepers

10.  Because of the shitty economy, Santa signed up for unemployment, ate two of his reindeer and pimped out most of his vertically enhanced elves (take a minute to think about that last one).  So there will be no Christmas Cheer spread to anyone, not even to smug bastards like yourself who feel entitled to Christmas Cheer.   

  9.   We sent you Christmas letters 3 years in a row.  Go back and read one of them.

  8.   We really don’t like you. 

  7.   We found out some of you don’t read our letters.  And on that note, see reason number 8.

  6.   Most people’s Christmas letters are boring.  Our letters are quirky, fun and entertaining as all hell.  We decided it was best not to make yours look bad.  There’s a thoughtful gift.  Merry Christmas.

  5.    Because this letter will make your ass look fat.  So will all the Christmas cookies and shit you're gonna shove in your gluttonous pie-hole.  We’re trying to save you precious calories so your ass won’t look AS fat.  Hey, we can only do so much. 

  4.    Because Mom & Dad won’t let us near the kitchen knives anymore. This statement has nothing to do with why you’re not getting a Christmas letter.  We’re just really pissed about not being allowed to stab shit.  Killjoys.

3.      Because we’re too busy doing drugs.  Writing Christmas letters takes up too much time from couching, shooting up and eating shit out of the garbage.  DUH!!!

2.      Nothing fun or exciting happened this year and I’m sure if it did, you really wouldn’t give two-shits.  If you are “intimate” friends/family, you already know about all the unexciting stuff we did this year,(because you were probably a part of it) & we wouldn’t have to try to sum up a year in a stoopid-ass Christmas letter that you won’t read, because as we already stated, you don’t give two-shits!

1.     Jesus told us not to.  Why he’s always cleaning out our gutters and shoveling our sidewalks and mowing our bushes is beyond our furry little heads?  Who are we to argue with our Lord and Gardner?  And who knew Jesus had a beautiful German accent? 

Well, Happy Holiday’s Ya Bastards!

The Dillon Clan

Conversations with my Husband......

We all have those conversations with our spouses that we can't believe we're having.  Here's a smattering of such conversations with my hubby. *sigh*


1.
    Me: Why does your side of the couch smell like butt?
    Him: I don't know.
 (sniffs around a bit and finds the offending stench from one of the critters) 
    Me: Oh wait, it's dog or cat puke.
    Him: Where'd that come from?
    Me: Really?




2.
    Me: Hey you know that; charcoal filter, jar of mustard, new pack of batteries, gallon of milk,  screwdriver, stove, hat, cigarette lighter, bottle of hot sauce, shirt you said was stolen...missing... etc....well I found it.
    Him: Where was it? 
    Me: Where it usually is.
    Him: Well, I couldn't find it. You must have moved it.
    Me: Yes....yes I must have moved it.....to give me room to put your dead body.




3.
    Him: What are you listening to? Turn that off. Your music sucks.
    Me: Why is it the music you listen to is fantastic, but mine sucks?
    Him: Because it does.
    Me: Well that explains everything. *Eye roll*



4.
    Me: What do you want for dinner? 
    Him: I don't care. 
    Me: Okay, how about pasta?
    Him: Nah.
    Me: So what do you want?
    Him: Ehh...whatever. Just not pasta.
    Me: Fine, how about pizza.
    Him: I'm not in the mood for pizza.
    Me: How about I strangle you in your sleep?




5.
    Him: When you went to the store you got my Jazz apples, right?
    Me: Ummm, yeah? (They didn't have any. So I bought Honeycrisps and ripped off the stickers.)
    Him: They don't look like my apples?
    Me: Well, they are. (When did he start to notice things?)
    Him: Where's the sticker?
    Me: *sigh*  Dammit Ed, they didn't have any! Just eat those apples.
    Him: Why didn't you go to the other store to get them? You know I only like Jazz apples.
    Me:  I WASN'T DRIVING ALL OVER GOD'S CREATION FOR JAZZ APPLES! TRY   
            SOMETHING NEW!
    Him: Woman...you had to get me one thing and you screwed it up.
                                ****** DAYS LATER******
    Him: You know, those apples you bought are pretty good.
    Me: I'm going to throw them at you and I'll make it hurt.


6.
    Me: You know the shower is leaking again.
    Him: It doesn't leak for me.
    Me: I guess you're fucking special.
              *******LATER********
    Him: You're right the shower is leaking again.
    Me: See, I told you it was leaking.
    Him: You must have broke it.
    Me: Yeah, I'm a real monster when I turn the knobs on and off!


7.
     Me: How about we go and get a drink somewhere?
     Him: Why would we do that?
     Me: I don't know. I thought we could just do something different.
     Him: But...it's Wednesday. And we're watching TV.
     Me: (Giving him a stupid look) We always watch TV.
     Him: *SILENCE* (watching TV and can't multi-task)
     Me: Helllooooo...
     Him: Dazed and Confused is on.
     Me: It has ended the same damn way all 300 times you've watched it!
     Him: *SILENCE*
     Me: So I guess we're not going anywhere?
     Him: What? What do you want? Dazed and Confused is on.
     Me: Shall I slit my wrist or yours?



8.
    Me: I see you ate toast in the kitchen. Are you going to clean up the crumbs on the counter?
    Him: Yeah. I always clean up my mess.
    Me: You do? Since when?
    Him: Always.
    Me: You ate toast at noon and now it's 4.
    Him: So what?
    Me:  I just cleaned it up.
    Him: I was going to get it.
    Me: Sure you were.


9.
    Him: If you ever go crazy I'm going to chain you up in the basement.
    Me: Okay. Can I at least have a bed to sleep on?
    Him: I guess.
    Me: How about a TV?
    Him: You're pushing it but fine.
    Me: This is sounding better and better!
    Him: I'll put the stove down there too so you can still cook for me.
    Me: I still have to cook for you when I go crazy? I don't remember taking those vows.
    

The happy couple....

   

How to Handle Shitty Comments from Others on your Blog/Writing.

Middle Finger Man is disappointed in YOU!

People suck.

Yep, I said it.

People. Suck.

Now, let me backpedal a little; not all people suck...all the time. Come on, we ALL suck a little. We can't help ourselves. As humans our genes give us lips...which create suction, and in turn, causes us to say really sucky things to each other.

And as a writer, I have had my ass handed to me by people who hate my blog posts, stories and apparently my face.  Damn my face!


Case in point...

"Thanks for being an annoying c**t for no reason."

This sweet little love note was sent to me from a stranger veiled behind a computer screen via the comments section of a social platform.

So what did I do to deserve this adorable pet name from a stranger?


Did I send an obnoxious game request over and over....and over.


Did I send a chain letter email that would bring death and destruction to them if they didn't forward it?


Did I send them a Trojan and not the glow-in-the-dark, little rubber kind?


No, it was worse.


Much worse.

I wrote a blog entry and posted the 'said entry' on a social media site which shall remain nameless. Yeah, I'm talking to you Reddit!!!

Alright, not completely nameless.

Yes, I know 'blogger beware' but I did it anyway. I'm kinda a rebel.

The blog post was a satirical look at Black Friday shopping which put my head on the chopping block.
As a fiction writer, I did what most fiction writers do; I begin with the slightest fart of  fact and with some twisting, corrupting and outright lies I create a gale of bullshit.

But apparently, my humor did not sit well with one particular female.

It pissed her off.

And you know what?

I'm glad.

So just where did I get my impenetrable, yet stylish armor?

Actually, we all have that...attire. But we need to dig it out of the back of the closet and make it one of our 'go-to' pieces. Donning it, will prepare ourselves for the ever changing seasons of our readers. And by season, I mean...well...I'm certain you understand the metaphor, you're a writer!


So here's how to make those shitty comments feel a little less shitty.


1. Don't react to posts as soon as they appear on your blog/email/comment section of your story.
    You'll be taking their bait if you do and honestly, that's what they want. They're needling you for some sort of altercation. They want you to lose your shit. Instead, mull it over. Let it roll around the ole' brain pan. Think of all the rude, obscenities and come-backs you could possibly zing at them. Write them down. Get your ire out on paper. Get it ALL out.
    But don't publish it! Be cool. Don't become a shark reacting to chum. It'll get bloody pretty quickly and that's when the other sharks come sniffin around....


2. Now, after a few minutes, hours, days, weeks- and your calm, sometimes NO reply is the best reply. Is it worth it to get into an online argument in front of...well...the world? Do you want a potential "fan" or publisher to watch your fight get messy and lose respect for you before they even get to know you and your craft? Why give the asshat anymore ammunition. Let their cringe inducing comment stand by itself. The stinky fromage will stand, as it should, alone.


3. But if you can't help yourself and you MUST defend your own honor, keep your response short and sweet. Slather on the charm and thank them for taking the time to read your offering. Nothing says,  "I'm not as big an asshole as you," as a post dripping in sweetness. Watch so you don't get diabetes though. You need to sound sincere and not like a snotty bitch. A little goes a long way.


4. Think of what your idol would say if they got the same response.
    You DO realize your idols have heard it all? They get their fair share of accolades but they are also subject to trolls and haters. They are in the spotlight and are under a microscope. If they can continue doing what they do with all the negativity and backlash they receive, so should you.
    There's an old saying, which is probably dating me but, who gives a shit, "Don't let the bastards get you down." Keep this nugget in the back of your skull or up your tight ass. See, I'm already preparing you for the seething sarcasm that you didn't ask for. You're welcome.


5. Be happy your work pinched a nerve resulting in a shitty comment.
    Yep, you pissed someone off. That means reading it evoked a visceral reaction. Sweet. So that
    being said....

Why is she so critical? Just love me, man!

6. Not everyone is going to like your work. And that's okay.
    You are not going to please every one.  And why would you want to?  If you write to please everyone you're not being honest with yourself as a writer. Our kind thrives on controversy.


7. Are any of the damning comments constructive?
    Take time to think about what the person has to say. Could it HELP your writing? If the answer is 'YES' thank them for their input and taking the time to read your work. No one likes criticism, it stings; BUT if it's constructive, give the devil their five bucks. Writers need to grow and sometimes we have those growth spurts through criticism.


8. Learn from this offense. Meaning, before you decide to comment on someone elses blog or story think to yourself, how would I handle this remark if it was written about MY content? I'm sure you've heard the saying, "if you don't have anything nice to say....then shut the fuck up?" Wiser words were never spoken. If you have a critique or constructive comment, always give the good with the bad and a solution to the bad. In other words, don't be a douchnozzle.


9. If all else fails; drink, smoke and have sex with strangers in bus stations because writers need their damn egos stroked. So take up that vice you've been toying with and go balls out. Then get back to work on your writing. You'll have some great stories to tell...and maybe a case of the Clap.
   But there's cream for that.

Soooo, what of my own advice did I take when I received the shitty comment that spurred this post?

Well, I calmed down and waited around an hour to answer. Since calling me a c**t isn't really constructive criticism (and it's something I already know, and embrace) I decided to send a simple reply.

And that reply was "LOL." 

I didn't feel it was worth a pissing contest. Maybe she was having a bad day. Maybe she related ALL TOO WELL to my blog entry and it 'undid' all the progress she made in therapy. Or... maybe she's just a miserable bitch whose mommy didn't love her enough.
Hey, whatever- she read my blog entry and she hated it.  YAY ME!

Oh and what was her response back?

NOTHING.

'She spider'-crawled, ala Exorcist-style, off to berate and shit all over another writer's blog post. 

And how do I know that? 

Because I just do.
Okay...I stalked her a little.
Don't judge me.

To conclude: write what you love and love what you write and most importantly- don't let the bastards get you down.

Because no matter how obscure, famous or infamous you are or become- there will always be bastards.

You just need to learn how to deal with them.

Word to your mother... who is ugly and dresses you funny.

Work on that impenetrable lizard skin baby!

My mom and me being c**ts. She actually likes my writing!