A Christmas Parable

When I was a young lad, around 5 years old, I kept mice. I bought two mice, Mork and Mindy and a couple of weeks later I had 8 mice, then two weeks after that I had 16. I discovered a local pet shop that would buy the mice off me for 50p each, so I had a lucrative business for kid. I assumed the pet shop found good homes for the baby mice, but I now realise that they were probably reptile food.

Anyhow I loved my original two mice. I would run home from school each day to play with my little rodent chums. I would dress them up and put them in little Lego cars that I built for them. And at Christmas they would don tiny Santa hats. 

Then one year, just a couple of weeks before Christmas, I discovered that Mindy, the mother mouse had suddenly died. I was distraught, I loved that little mouse. 

I would kneel down at the foot of my bed each night and pray that it was all a dream, and that she would be alive and well the next day. As it was near Christmas, I wrote a letter to Santa saying I didn’t want any presents, but I just wanted Mindy back. I passed the letter to my parents to post to Santa. I told them what I had written. 

Then in secret I put Mindy in a small box, wrapped it up and placed it under the Christmas tree. Each night I made a wish for Mindy and I asked God to resurrect Mindy just like he did his own son Jesus. 

Christmas came and in the very early hours of the morning I rushed downstairs to check on Mindy. I picked up the wrapped box. It moved, I could hear scratching. Oh joy, Santa had received my letter and my prayers had been answered. 

Excited, I opened the box and there in the box, there in the box was … 

                                            the rotting corpse of Mindy riddled with maggots.

I learned a lot that day and I grew up quickly. I realised Father Christmas and God was a lie. But I think that day was a blessing in disguise, it is that Christmas day that made me the soulless sceptical scientist that I am today.

Merry Christmas one and all.