Erik Sirke

Big Lie project for Film 311, January 24, 2011
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Hi everyone, my picture is of a family eating dinner. Now, I want to level with everyone, I lost my picture very recently after acquiring it, and of course I didn’t realize this until I started this assignment...yesterday, so all of what I say is from memory.
(clear throat)
let’s begin.
Ah, Christmas, 1964, I don’t remember it at all, but these people sure should, especially the little bastard in the middle. Now I say especially because not only would the other folks in the picture be most likely dead, if not freshly dead, or sending in their resume, but because the event that took place said Christmas 1964 affected him the most. And of course, I say bastard because the bastard doesn’t have a father, or at least at the time. And I say at the time, because...well that leads me to my story.
(Clear throat)
This particular Christmas was like any other in the McAlister household. It started with the arrival of Santa around midnight, the opening of presents around morning, the playing with said presents around noon, the eating of unsaid supper around evening and finally the departure of Santa around late at night. Now, you see, the McAlister household and its little bastard were special in that they got to see and visit with Santa all Christmas day and night. He would regale the McAlisters with stories of Mrs. Claus and the elves, help the little bastard, who I will now call Bastion because I think this is no longer funny, play with his fire truck and assist in the drinking of alcohol during and after supper.
The first day back to school, Bastion would often be asked “Say Bastion, what did Santa do this year” and Bastion would often reply “give me a nifty firetruck then get gooned”.
(mild laughter)
How true.
This year, however, was a little different. Instead of Bastion waking up to find a brand new fire truck under the tree, he finds a mildly wasted Santa. Confused, Bastion just stands there and watches as Santa slowly stumbles erect. Fixes his hat and says “Don’t worry Bastion, I haven’t forgotten about you, but this year I’m going to give you a different present”. The innocent Bastion remains still. Santa begins to move again and slowly struggles towards the child. He gets closer and closer until all that fills Bastion’s attention is the sight of red flannel and the smell of red flannel. However, instead of rape, magic was done for Santa extended his arm, flexed his fingers thusly and reached behind Bastion’s ear to reveal a note saying.....
Oh, this is my picture. Ummm. He reaches behind his ear and reveals a note saying “I am your father”.
(sneeze)
Oh, no note, just money.
Yep, it turns out that Bastion had a father all along who, because of his violent crime, was only allowed on parole one day a year, Christmas. And, feeling it was more important for his son to experience Santa than parenting, dressed up and spent the day with Bastion as The Fat Man himself, every year until this year in 1964 when he was released from prison and decided it was time to end the charade and thus gave his son the lamest present of all, love; and the worst Christmas present of all, the revelation that Santa does not exist and if seen in any physical form is most likely a misguided parent slipping on empty bottles of cinnamon schnapps and spiraling down a staircase of unlawful criminality.
Long story short, this picture was taken by Bastion’s father later that evening after uttering the common request: “cheese!”