If the Magi had believed in re-gifting, O. Henry might have had to write a different story…

     Well, the last of the 2013 calendars have finally been hung here at the Fortress of Funitude, and a start has been made on the leftover laundry from our annual pre-Christmas“Come as you’d be if you had to pull your clothing out of a Hefty bag while blindfolded” party. This means, at long last, that the New Year has begun in earnest.

     This is not unusual for Funsville: right about now is the time when the festive season grinds to a halt, with the observance of The Alternate Epiphany; or Epiphany, Take Two; or Epiphany 2.0, if you're so inclined. For those in need of background, the original Epiphany is celebrated on January 6, and commemorates the arrival in Bethlehem of the Three Wise Men—Caspar, Melchior, and Balthazar—to present gifts to the baby Jesus, and do whatever else they did to justify the trip on their expense accounts.

     The Alternate Epiphany happens six days after that, and concerns a legendary Fourth Wise Man named Lenny, who somehow got separated from the rest of the group en route. It’s a day cherished by procrastinators, dawdlers, laggards, and people who just generally have a hard time getting their act together. In Funsville, we celebrate the occasion by opening the boxes of “to do list” note paper that are a traditional local Christmas gift, and writing out a first draft of our New Year’s resolutions. Then, at sundown, everyone gathers in Historic Funtown Square at the city centre, to crumple up their lists and toss them onto the annual “So Much for That Nonsense” bonfire.

     As for the unofficial patron saint of the feast, Lenny the Fourth Wise Man, here’s his story, as related in the beyond-apocryphal Gospel According to Eva Marie Saint:

     On the sixth day (or thereabouts) after the arrival (and departure) of the Wise Men and their gifts (the Wise Men departed, their gifts did not), there came unto Mary and Joseph a fourth Wise Man. This one went by the name of Lenny: he bore a parcel, profuse apologies, and a grudge toward the other Wise Men, who had ditched him at a Days Inn just outside Hebron, sticking him with the bill.

     “This is all I could find on short notice,” Lenny explained, as he handed over the parcel. In it was his great gift to the infant Jesus—a box of assorted caramels.

    

      For it had come to pass that as he reached the outskirts of Bethlehem, Lenny had met the other Wise Men, who were just leaving town. They told him the story of Mary, Joseph, the manger, and of the gifts of gold, frankincense and myrrh which they had brought to honour the only-begotten Son of God. “You fuckers,” Lenny spat at them, “You never told me we had to get presents.”

     The journey to the all-night Shoppers Drug Mart, where Lenny bought the assorted caramels, was long, arduous, and used up the last of Lenny’s ready cash. “Hope you like it,” he said, sheepishly. “I didn’t have a chance to get it wrapped.”

     Mary and Joseph gave each other a puzzled look: “Who gives caramels to a baby?” Mary asked. “He’s got no teeth,” Joseph added.

     “Sonofabitch,” thought Lenny to himself,“I knew I should have gotten them a gift certificate.”

     Religious purists may quibble that this story lacks the airtight plausibility that marks the rest of Holy Scripture. Indeed, scholars now agree that it is highly unlikely that Eva Marie Saint ever wrote the Gospel attributed to her. If she had, she most certainly would have mentioned North by Northwest somewhere in it. Still, as things to base a belief system on for one day go, it’s fairly harmless, and all in a good cause. For one thing, it keeps us from putting things off until we have to roll Groundhog Day, Valentine’s and Mardi Gras all into one. Those of us in Funsville who can remember what that was like aren’t eager to see it return any time soon.

Uncle Fun

P.S. Speaking of putting things off…I almost put off linking you to the latest instalment of “How Not To Do It”, starring myself, my esteemed colleague and tormentor Sparky, and his occasional voice of reason, Miss Moose. (Those blue letters in the previous sentence are your passport to two more minutes of drollery, so what have you got to lose by clicking on them?) It’s not exactly what I wanted to have Mr. Cousins upload for me…but I haven’t got around to getting the other thing ready yet.