Free Festivus by Allen Salkin Page A

“Then Joe went up into the attic and we tied some rope to the sign and he pulled it up. It was an adventure.”
    “We had a Festivus pole out front,” Josh continues, nodding toward the front door from his perch on a black leather sofa. “It was stuck in the ground. It blew over.”
    No one has stuck it back in the ground. Likewise, the lads strung lights on the Festivus sign for a party in the spring, but the “F” blinked out soon after and hasn’t been fixed. “Fixing the ‘F’ will be tough,” Tyler says. “There’s a bees’ nest up there.” A typical day in the Festivus House might start with Tyler feeding his phosphorescent fish Ray Ray and Georgia. “They glow under a black light,” he boasts.
    Later, Tyler and Joe will pick up their guitars and practice the songs “Chasing Amnesia” and “Better When You’re Gone” that they play in their band named Bell. Nighttime will find Joe lying on his single bed with a plaid bedspread on it, staring at a poster of two young women in white jeans. “He found that poster,” Josh says. “We don’t know who the girls are.”
    Festivus miracles don’t always come when wished for in the rickety white-shingled house on East Sycamore Street.
    “One time,” Tyler says, “we shot the fire extinguishers off all around the house, but we had to leave the house because then you couldn’t breathe.”
    Although the men of Festivus House feel a rush of pride on those almost daily occasions when someone rolls down a window and shouts “Happy Festivus!” while driving past, they find some of the comme of passersby confusing.
    “It’s weird,” Tyler says during a break in studying. “I was walking down the sidew near the house the other day and I heard someone say, ‘rather live in the dorm n year than that sh––h Festivus. It has to be worst house on campus Tyler pauses. “We m have had a bunch of trash out. I don’t know.”

    Where Joe dreams

    FESTIVITIS
    Brett Fischer, a physical trainer whose facility in Phoenix attracts NFL and Major League Baseball players in the off-season, named the brutal 25- to 30-minute circuit of running and twisting exercises he sets up every Friday “Festivus.” “The word has taken on a new meaning,” Brett explains. “It’s a conglomeration of a workout regiment, a festival-like attitude, and
Seinfeld
thrown in.”
    The workout, consisting of a series of 5- to 6-second Feats of Strength, is tough. “Some guys have puked,” Brett says.

    Festivitis

    T-shirt made by Jake Plummer of the Denver Broncos
    With such a reputation, many athletes choose to skip Fridays at Fischer Sports. Brett invented a word for the disease of not showing up Fridays: “Festivitis.”
    Those who refuse to come down with a case of it include Jake Plummer, the quarterback of the Denver Broncos. He showed up one Friday with T-shirts he’d had printed that he gave to anyone who completed the course. The T-shirts read, “Festivus Won’t Get the Bestivus.”
    FESTIVUS FELINES
    Festivus has become a popular cat name. Here are the stories of Festivus, Microfestivus, and Festy, each told by their owners.
    The Happy Tale of Festivus
(with some magic realism at the end)
    by Brittany Benson, an eighth grader from Fincastle, Virginia
    “Oh, Mommy, let’s get that one,” my little sister said, pointing.
    “What do you think, Brittany?” my mom asked.
    I took her from my mom. There was something strange about her. It wasn’t really her looks; there was just a strange thing about her. I loved it.
    “I love her,” I said. “She is the coolest!”
    “All right, we’ll take her,” my mom said.
    We all started trying to think of a name. Finally, my mom said, “How about Festivus?” It fit her strange name for strange holiday and now for a strange.
    When we at home, we all wrestled with her attack and then it is time for bed. Festivus was obviously not ready for bed. She kept attacking my fingers.

    Festivus
    Two weeks later, I was watching