h a l f b a k e r y
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This Christmas there are certain people to whom we apparently have an obligation to send a gift. Some of them probably don't deserve anything... it's just a family obligation to mollify some doddery old codgers taking up space in the family tree.
All five of them, it has been decided, will receive
a metal giftbox of chocolates this year. One of the boxes of chocolates will have had all of the chocolates removed and only a few crumbs left in the cute little plastic nesty thing they put in such boxes. The box has been carefully resealed and wrapped and sent to one of them, though I don't know which one.
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My sister and I once did something similar to our mum. We got one of those boxes with two layers and removed all the chocolates from the second layer. |
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Upon discovery a day later: |
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"Ooh, you rotten little sods!" |
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(Admittedly we weren't brave (/cruel) enough to have actually eaten the missing ones; she got them too.) |
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I'm not that loving and caring. |
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even if its a lottery who receives the empty box, surely they will know who sent it. as far as tricks go, I think you can do better than this. |
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no 3 son once cleverly wrapped a nice present inside what looked like a box of teabags. |
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It's not a trick. It's an entirely new and completely unexpected invention, based upon our cultural expectations. |
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Of course they know'll who sent it. I signed the accompanying card. That's one of the traditional things we do with Christmas presents, in civilised countries where Christmas is observed. |
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They wont necessarily know it was you who ate the chocolates, it could be the start of a series of events that leads to them receiving a lifetime's supply of chocolates from the manufacturer as compensation for a perceived act of industrial sabotage. |
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Furthermore, the Cadbury's Milk Tray factory ups security, in the belief that some of its workers are feasting on chocolate prior to shipping, and a young single, pregnant chocolate boxer, named Debbie, is caught secreting rum truffles about her person. She is hauled in front of the Foreman, and asked to explain herself. |
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Breaking down in tears, she throws herself upon the mercy of the foreman, who takes pity on her and instead of firing her and having her flung from the premises, consoles her, drying her eyes with his handkerchief. |
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The handkerchief had earlier, unbeknownst to Roger the Foreman, been exposed to highly mutagenic substances, his wife Polly (a researcher at a local bioweapons laboratory) having accidentally washed it in some work she'd taken home, rather than the usual detergent, after mixing up the bottles. |
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Duly consoled, but infected with a potent DNA resequencing virus, Debbie goes home and eventually forgets about the incident. |
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7 months later, a child is born in the local nursing home, with blue skin, and the ability read minds. |
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Thousands of years later, this child's progeny eventually exterminate the final human, after a long and drawn-out war. The Earth is devastated, and this final act of extinction complete, the survivors finally begin the long process of redevelopment. |
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And all because the lady loved milk-tray. |
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Sorry, [zen-tom], I just took that as read. If anyone had missed that as the logical outcome to sending an Empty Box Of Chocolates as a Christmas gift then I apologise. |
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The outcome is entirely different if you send an Empty Tin Of Shortbread:
Beryl received the Empty Box Of Shortbread and assumed it was a prank by her distant relative, [UnaBubba]. She had marked in on her wall calendar (protection against her descent into forgetfulness)that he and his family would be visiting on December 26, as part of their family obligations to distant aunts. |
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In order to teach [UnaBubba] a lesson, Beryl cooked up a batch of shortbread to a recipe she had been carefully developing for years. She filled the empty tin and set in under the Christmas tree, intending to open it when the scrooge and his cloyingly sweet family arrived. She was looking forward to seeing the look on his smug face when she opened the gift and it contained a full complement of biscuits. |
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Late that night, an industrial espionage agent named Tom sneaked into Beryl's home while she lay sleeping, stealing the shortbread and a copy of the jealously guarded secret, taking them both back to the Acme Biscuit Company headquarters, Tom had dressed as a Christmas Ninja, which is how he was still dressed when abducted and rendered to Camp Invisible, a secret establishment in a disused tomb in the Valley Of The Kings, in Egypt. Tom's life took a left turn at that point. Turned by the cruel torturers from what they imagined to be Tom's secret life as an agent of Al Qaeda's secretive Martyrs Of The Menstruating Mother Maryam, Tom assumed the mantle of puppet presidential aspirant in the nation of Egypt, eventually going on to the role of President. His aggressive reform agenda took Egypt from economic also-ran to secular, technological powerhouse of the Middle East, bringing fiscal prosperity and peace to the entire region. |
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All of this was achieved through Tom's judicious management of a state-owned enterprise he set up to produce shortbread biscuits to the recipe he had stolen, memorised and swallowed. The export sales of those biscuits rapidly overtook the revenues of Microsoft, BHP Billiton, Exxon, Citigroup and every other mega-corportion on the planet, in a very short time. |
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The secret "ingredient" Tom never revealed was in every shortbread biscuit Pyramid Bakeries ever exported. Tom had kept the recipe sheet, hurriedly swallowing it when he realised he was in trouble as he was being abducted, so ABC never managed to perfect the recipe. The test lab boys had scoffed all of the delicious biscuits before a mass spectographic analysis could be completed. They would never have found it anyway, as the secret was not in the biscuits but in the method. |
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Tom passed, finally revealing the secret on his deathbed after 51 years as Popular President of the People's Peaceful Pan-Arab Republic. He became known to the world not just as the greatest peacemeker the world has ever known, uniting all Moslem countries into a peaceful and prosperous industrial superpower, but as The Halfbaker. |
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Regardless of whether people are not the most liked in the family, they are still human beings at the end of it. They deserve respect and kindness, even though they may not have dished it out. One day, it may dawn on these people that they have been unkind by showing them your kindness and for that reason your actions will have been worth it, however long it takes. By being unkind to them just magnifies that streak in them. Think about it when you next make a suggestion about being unkind to people that don't deserve kindness. |
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Empty tin of Fudge: Sadly [hippo] was a
little over-zealous in emptying the tin
of fudge, removing the very fabric of
space-time from the inside of the tin.
The resulting hole in space-time was in
a region with some of the
properties of cheap nylon stockings and
so a 'run' developed causing
space-time to split in two through West
London, the world as we know it
dividing into two separate, parallel
universes with the fortuitous outcome
that it was now impossible for [hippo]
to visit the intended recipient of the
empty tin of fudge. |
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Life is unfair, [NJ]. This is just a way of randomising the unfairness and bringing mirth to a greater number of people than it disappoints. |
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[hippo], it's a shame we couldn't induce the split on an East-West axis, along the river. |
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// they are still human beings // |
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What's the climate like on your planet ? |
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"It was Earth all along!" |
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UnaBubba examined the postmark on the letter that appeared in his mailbox. It was from one of The Five!
"My Dear, Dear UnaBubba", the letter began, ominously.
"Mere words can barely express my gratitude and thanks for your wonderful Christmas gift this year. Although it is but a simple metal container, it is both beautiful and useful. I have been searching the shops for years, trying to find just such a decorative tin as this. You will no doubt be gratified to know I shall put it to good use by keeping my blood sugar monitor and insulin pills safe and secure. You were so very thoughtful to have removed all of those nasty and dangerous chocolate-covered creams and nut-filled confections. Why, I might have died had I eaten but one!
You are obviously one of the very few among our family tree that still cares about us doddery old codgers. In recognition of your affection, I have already seen to it that my solicitors will immediately alter my will to name you as Executor, and sole Guardian of my 14 cats." |
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UnaBubba fell to his knees, tears of disappointment and frustration streaming down his cheeks. He raised his face towards the heavens and a loud gargled scream came from his throat, "Noooooooooooooo...!" |
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Rushing quickly to his writing desk, UnaBubba pens the following: |
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Dear Aunt Mavis,
Here's another box of chocolates, guaranteed full and packed in icing sugar. Please note that I have been declared incompetent by the state and as such cannot possibly act as your Executor. |
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This was all as a result of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder precipitated by your ghastly insistence upon kissing me repeatedly when I was a small child and I had to endure visits to your cat-infested hovel every year at Christmas. Your long, slimy tongue always tasted of bacon and eggs and Kool Mints. |
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Stuff your cats up your arse, you evil old wench. |
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So if sending somebody a box which may or may not be empty results in the obtaining of felines, wouldn't that make Aunt Mavis' surname Schrödinger? |
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Of course, the above are nothing compared to the results of sending an empty box of custard. [+] |
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//Your long, slimy tongue always tasted of bacon and eggs and Kool Mints.// |
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[Bubba], go see help, mate. It is not right that any person, ever, should know what their Aunt's tongue should taste like. I personally would carve the momory out with a steak knife. Scorched earth therapy. |
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I may well have nightmares tonight. |
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What's wrong with you, boy? It's taken me 38 years and $140,000 worth of therapy to be able to admit that it happened. Now you want me to forget it? |
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How would Forrest Gump put it . . . "Life is like an empty box of chocolates" |
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