A Krampus Christmas: The Jenkin’s Family Letter


This Christmas will mark five years since I’ve sent Christmas cards and 53 years of not writing a family letter to include in a Christmas card. I like getting the family letters, though. 

Randy and I were talking about those letters and wondered what one would look like if the family got a visit from Krampus instead of Santa. So, I wrote a family letter for the Jenkin’s family. Little Timmy was an asshole, so they all suffered.

Season’s Greetings, All!

What a year, right? Whew! Bring on 2017!

Now is a great time of year, though. I love the holidays. It really is the most wonderful time of the year and it’s better to light a single candle than curse the darkness.

Speaking of darkness, as most of you know, little Timmy was not a good boy in 2015. So, we got a visit from Krampus instead of Santa last year. (sad face). Boy, that was fun. We really need a sarcasm font, don’t we?

2016 cast a shadow over the world, but Krampus made 2016 a little more challenging for us. I don’t like to use strong language, but this is my opinion and I’m entitled to it: That Krampus is a scamp.

Everyone in the family has had to deal with the Krampus aftermath.

Me, for instance. I’ve had some sleep issues during 2016. You know that dream where your skin melts off and you are desperately trying to hold your organs in but your hands are  slippery because there is no skin? Then, you wake up just as you see your heart pop out of your hand like a watermelon seed? But you are only dreaming you are awake because you find yourself judging a pie baking contest between your maternal and paternal grandmothers. And they are each holding copies of your grade school report cards? Well, I dreamed that 194 times this year. I started keeping a count last March. I am dont-forget-people-starbucks-doesnt-ruin-christmas-krampus-ruins-christmasvery tired. Our insurance doesn’t cover mental health care. Ha ha! Damn insurance companies.

Roger struggled as well. He developed a “gassy” problem. He’s seen a few doctors. They keep referring him elsewhere. We can’t go to church any more. Reverend Bob thinks Satan is responsible for the sulphur smell coming from Roger’s ass. 

I was relieved of my PTA fundraiser captain duties after the incident at banquet night. Timmy and Jennifer can’t invite any friends over. Not because they are embarrassed, but because the EPA isn’t sure what the long term effect Roger’s gas can have on children. We need your thoughts and prayers as Roger’s unemployment runs out soon. We’re hopeful that his application at the waste management plant gets accepted.

As for Timmy, I am sure you remember that this year began with quite a scare as Timmy went missing soon after Krampus’ visit. He returned to us in the dark of night and I am happy to report that Timmy’s behavior has turned around. Santa will definitely come this year. Timmy no longer talks back in school and hasn’t started a single fight with his sister. In fact, he usually just stares at a wall. I am pretty sure I saw his eyes glowing red a few times and I could swear I have heard demonic laughter coming from his room at night. But a few moments of abject terror is a small price to pay to get our little angel back.

I’m not going to lie. Roger and I are very concerned about Jennifer. Since she turned fourteen, she seems like a different person. She paints her fingernails black, wears dark eyeliner and spends hours in her room listening to Joy Division. I can tell you this, Joy Division is not very joyous. She argues with me over everything and says her weird family is ruining her life. Jennifer sometimes rolls her eyes so hard that she bends time. I think she is possessed.

We couldn’t take our  annual trip to see the mouse this year due to Roger farting so much he lost his job. It would have been our 10th trip! Maybe, next year. Instead, Roger and I took Timmy and Jennifer on a short trip to one of those animal parks you drive your car through. The animals behaved very odd. When we would approached their eyes bugged out and their lips peeled back. I’m pretty sure they were screaming. Nature is so amazing!

Things took a turn when we stopped at the gift shop. An old Romanian woman hissed at Timmy and muttered some words at him. Then Jennifer asked the old woman if she could live with her. Awkward. I think Timmy really enjoyed himself as he loves animals. Our family cat, Muffy, disappeared not long after Timmy was returned to our loving arms. I think that is one of the reasons Timmy has been so quiet. He’s still working through his grief.

This year hasn’t been all bad though. I finally talked my mother into giving me her secret banana nut bread recipe. Yummy!

Oh, and if any of you have seen Muffy, please let us know. Timmy is beside himself. I think.

Happy Holidays! Peace and love to you all! May your coffee and your eggnog be strong!

Trish, Roger, Jennifer and Timmy


This week, we find Dude being his typical, ornery self.

I haven’t posted memes for awhile from Rubber Shoes In Hell’s Facebook page and now there’s a backlog. Feel free to pass these around.


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  • I could never wrap my head around those holiday family letters. People I send cards to already know about my family. They ARE my family, they just live far away. (Ya i don’t send many cards) My mom used to receive an annual boast-report from a distant cousin of my late dad – someone she never spoke to. Ever. It was a peak into the lives of successful strangers. How the fuck could we relate to that? It always felt like we’d opened the neighbour’s mail – except these folks shared our family name. Weird. Usually I am so done with the year by this time but damnit if #45-to-be isn’t making me dread 2017. I’m not over that nausea & I’m still stunned by disbelief. Icky icky stuff. But I can’t wait to spend xmas week with my 3 kids (basically one long pajama party! ).

  • Ha ha ha, I wish I could bend time with an eye roll. Yep, what a horrible year it has been. May 2017 be a vast improvement or I’m moving to another planet.
    Beam me up…

  • I didn’t know what Krampus was, and when I Googled him, the first thing that came up was about him showing up in Cincinnati:
    I don’t think we ever had a family Christmas letter, although sometimes one of my cousins will email my sister.
    Maybe watch out for the Romanian woman, remember when John Oliver had the little kid sing the “Brexit” song and he said that there were vampires there? That seems like something from a different age, at this point, but it was funny…

  • Thank you, you made my week 🙂 .
    Those family end-of-the-year letters are like a bio update to resumes to extend one’s internet job position. The letter envelope is the address update, the yearly report is the keep-the-job application refresher. It is a chore, those yearly resume updates but got to be done to stay in good familia standing!
    The people who send me Christmas cards never want to be in my life, not really. They only ‘want to know how I’m doing’ but not too close. Then they don’t want to visit me in their spaces either …
    And, Every One Else ? Every One Else is stopping over in a few weeks to join in with us having a fun week 🙂 !
    2017? Who??? This year’s not over until I after my funne holidays 🙂 .

  • Should that letter be sent, let us know when the police show up.
    In fact send it so we can hope the police rounds up 2016 and locks it away.
    Thanks for the laugh!

  • As an experienced futurist, I’ve analyzed the prospects for 2017. I foresee three scenarios. In decreasing order of optimism: (1) A bit of a bugger (2) An absolute bastard (3) A total fucking bear. I may have underplayed the downside.

  • Krampus should visit my fucking house this year. My two daughters, ages 19 and 15 make Timmy and Jen look like a real treat! And agreed on the shit year that has been 2016, however, I beleive it should go fuck itself right up the ass, rather than the face. In addition to turning 50, menopausal (sp?), not sleeping, gainging weight, grey hair, fighting and severing ties with family members over their voting for Trump AND living with what feels like Satan’s offspring, I need a f-ing break in 2017. Oh and I hate my job. And Christmas cards… may not fucking happen at all, with the spawn fighting over who looks worse in any of the pictures I’ve selected for said cards, you know so we can attempt to look like a normal family to other families whose kids are kicking life’s ass with all their accomplishments. As the kids would say, 2016 has been shitty AF.

By Michelle


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