Every year, when the Butterflys gather for the winter holiday known as Christmas, a hunt ensues for a plastic pile of shit hidden somewhere in the Christmas tree. My younger cousins, and now their children, keep up this tradition. They think it's some strange German/Russian thing. But the real story is tasteless and disturbing.

Let me set the scene for you: it's Xmas day, 1977. I am 5 years old, my brother just turned 7. We're gathered at our grandmother's house, along with my dad's little sister and her husband, my grandpa, and my dad's youngest brother, Billy. Uncle Billy is 20 or so, and still lives at home, no job, and no particular plans. He blows all his money on his black Trans-Am and marijuana. My dad has convinced his parents that he's going nowhere fast, so grandma and grandpa have put their feet down and told him to either get a job or move out after January 1. Of course, my brother and I don't know any of this. Being that we're around a pretty tree with all sorts of presents around the bottom, we don't even notice the tension in the room.

At grandma Butterfly's house, we open our gifts one at a time, so everybody has a chance to enjoy. So we all gather around the tree, and my aunt picks up a pretty gift with my name on it. It's from her. OOH! It's a Cher doll! Yay!

The next gift is for my dad. It's from Uncle Billy. It's very brightly wrapped, with a couple of bows on it. It's about the size of a shoebox. Dad seems surprised to get such a nice gift from Uncle Billy. Uncle Billy is grinning like an idiot. Dad seems touched by how thoughtful his baby brother is. He unwraps the gift, opens the box, and reveals a very large, slightly smelly, human turd.

Grandma is apalled. My aunt bursts into tears. Grandpa is furious. Dad and Grandpa take Uncle Billy into the garage. Angry voices are heard.

My mother gamely grabs the next gift under the tree. It's for my brother. It's from Uncle Billy. "I am NOT opening that. Un-uh. No way," he says. My aunt is sobbing now. Her husband has started uselessly straightening the coffee table, which was already straight to begin with. In a voice from hell, my mother hisses, "OPEN. IT. NOW!" My brother opens the gift, revealing some Star Wars dolls. Whew!

The rest of the day passes as uneventfully as possible. Later, Uncle Billy gets a job, gets married, has kids. We have many more Xmases together. But every year since, someone in the Butterfly family plays a very special prank. Sometime before Xmas, a plastic pile of shit is hidden in the Xmas tree. The first person to find it gets to hand out the gifts.

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