“Grandma Got Run Over By A Reindeer” A Song of Murder, Alcoholism, Pill Addiction and Hope For The Holidays

It’s no secret that I’m not the hugest Christmas person in the world, which makes no sense, as Christmas has all the makings of a Lisa Newlin favorite holiday.  Food?  Check.  Presents?  Check?  Oversized sweaters to hide the extra cookies you’re smuggling home from grandma’s house? Check.

Wait, why am I not more crazy about this holiday?

One thing I’m definitely not a fan of is Christmas music.  I know.  Ba hum bug.  I just don’t like hearing the same annoying songs every single year for two months.  Forever.  Until I die.  At least Miley Cyrus has an expiration date of when they’ll stop playing her music on the radio. (Fingers crossed.)

But the chipmunks? Those f*ckers will be singing about a flipping hula hoop well after I’ve left this world.

Granted, some holiday songs are more bearable than others, and then there are some that are just weird.  As you may recall, last year I wrote about how “I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus” was really just a song by a creepy kid.  In that same vein, this year I decided to take another Christmas carol we all merrily sing around the tree and break it down a bit.

Which song did I choose? A song about murder, alcoholism, pill addiction and hope for the holidays.

Let’s get this bad boy started with the beginning line that’s completely grammatically incorrect.

“Grandma got run over by a reindeer,”

Um, please tell me this is what you’re yelling to the 911 operator and not what you’re jotting down as the beginning of a catchy tune.  I sincerely hope you didn’t learn of your me-maw’s demise and immediately think “There’s a jingle in there somewhere, I know it.”  Please tell me CPR was attempted.

“Coming home from our house Christmas Eve.”

Seriously?  You let an elderly woman walk home by herself on Christmas Eve?  If that’s how you treat her during the holiday season, I’d hate to see what you do to her when it isn’t such a hospitable month. Give the woman a ride.  Geez.

“You can say there’s no such thing as santa,
But as for me and Grandpa, we believe.”

Seriously?!  You followed up a declaration that your sweet old granny was murdered with a sentence of hope and believing in a mythical creature?!  I just hope you believed in modern medicine because I suspect old gran needed to believe in some morphine and a neck brace.

“She’d been drinking too much egg nog,”

Okay, now I’m really starting to like this gram, assuming the egg nog was actually bourbon.  Around the holidays, that’s what I call my bourbon just because it sounds more festive than “I’m going to sit by the fire and polish off a pint of bourbon all by myself.”  See?  Egg nog just sounds better.

“And we begged her not to go.”

Um, was me-maw a 300 pound body builder?  Couldn’t you just stop the frail granny from leaving by simply putting your hand across the door jam and taking her walker?  Really?  You had to beg her to stay and when she refused you were all “You’re on your own old hag!”

Nice.  Real.  Fricking.  Nice.

“But she’d left her medication,
So she stumbled out the door into the snow.”

ARE YOU SERIOUS RIGHT NOW?!  This woman was drinking and forgot her medication so you let her STUMBLE into the SNOW?!  You guys really are a bunch of a-holes.  Don’t you know that “A Christmas Story” runs on a continuous loop for 24 hours on Christmas Eve and Christmas Day?

Perhaps you should have torn yourself away from that beloved classic for just a few minutes to make sure your arthritic mimi didn’t fall into the snow in her alcohol-induced state.

“When they found her Christmas mornin‘”

YOU DIDN’T EVEN KNOW SHE WAS DEAD UNTIL THE MORNING WHEN SOMEONE ELSE FOUND HER?!  You didn’t bother to check to see if your drunk me-maw who needed her pills made it home in the effing dark?

I find this a little hard to believe if I’m also to believe that you “begged her not to go.”  I’m beginning to think you didn’t care as much about granny as you claim to.

“At the scene of the attack,
There were hoof prints on her forehead,”

I hope at this point you’re feeling at least a little bad about the fact you left her out in the cold to getravaged by wild animals.  And I swear to God if you tell me this was a vampire attack and that Edward Cullen is responsible…I will….just…I will just….

And when you saw the hoof prints on her forehead, please tell me that at least then you called the authorities.  I’m sure CSI could come in to do their thing although I doubt they have a database for hoof prints and their corresponding offenders.

“And incriminatin’ Claus marks on her back.”

What.  The.  Hell?  First of all, what are “Claus marks” and second of all, how are they incriminatin’? And third, do you not know proper English? Not only did you allow for a negligent homicide of your gram-gram, you don’t even know how to formulate words or sentences.  I’m beginning to understand why Gram was such an alcoholic pill popper.

You should be ashamed of yourselves.  Instead of writing a nice eulogy for your Gammy, or perhaps going on the news to warn of the dangers of an “incriminatin’ Claus” and his rag-tag reindeer, you decided to write a holiday jingle about her death and how she was left outside in the snow all night long to die simply because you guys couldn’t be bothered to pull yourselves away from the TV?

But hey, at least you ended the song with an uplifting statement about how some people don’t believe in Santa Claus, but you and Grandpa believe.  I realize you meant to suggest…wait…I have no fricking clue what you meant to suggest.  If you truly believed Santa mowed down your Gams, then of course you believe….because he’s guilty.  You should file a police report.

And why are you writing it like believing in the man who took your sweet Gran away  from this world is a positive thing? Is believing in Charles Manson also something we should sing to our kids about?  I’m thinking you and Grandpa are missing your moral compasses.  Perhaps they’re out in the snow clutched in Gran-Gran’s lifeless hands.

I hope you guys didn’t get anything in the will.

This post was originally featured on Lisa’s blog. Photo via.