Crystal Baws: December 2012 Horoscopes

ARIES
Since you have been reincarnated in your current form, you can only imagine what horrors you must have committed in a past life.
 
TAURUS
As your plane back home plummets towards the ground this Christmas Eve you turn to the screaming passenger beside you and yell above the din and horror that it’s “just like that bit in Die Hard 2.”

GEMINI
Love is just a word. Like marrow is a word, or dome. They’re all just words. Stop going on about them all the time.

CANCER
You spend your evenings boasting at the turkey in your freezer. “Who’s walking around now?” you taunt through the plastic door.

LEO
Every Christmas a jolly fat man secretly comes down your chimney, and when you catch him you’re going to have him put on the sex offenders register.

VIRGO
Making love to your wife is exactly like Christmas dinner. You shove the oversized meat in the oven and don’t pull it out until the juices run clear. Invariably, you end up with gravy all over your face and the table splattered with trifle while the dog sits staring at you, licking his lips, waiting for his turn. You usually finish first and sit there grinning with your cracker in your hand, crumpled and limp. Afterwards you fall asleep with the TV on.

LIBRA
You’re not doing too bad considering how stupid you are.

SCORPIO
As the Mayan calendar comes to an end without incident, you realise that the entire thing has been a hoax perpetrated by the CIA to distract you from the shocking truth about the Aztec calendar which ends on the 21st of December 2013, and with it, the world.

SAGITTARIUS
Only wimps need the toilet. Next time you need a shit, walk it off.

CAPRICORN
While burning toast in your caravan, you happen across a miraculous image of our Lord and Saviour, David Icke, scorched into the bread. He who loved the world so much, he sacrificed his evenings on the internet and gave himself high blood pressure for our sins.

AQUARIUS
Sick of your parents’ lies about Santa Claus, on Christmas Eve you hear a sudden clang followed by the insane howl of your father. Rushing to the living room you find your mother attempting to free him from the bear trap you carefully laid, presents strewn at his feet. You scream at them to confess but they refuse. Chloroforming and dragging them into the basement you begin interrogations. Slapping them awake, you brandish photos of them leaving Toys ‘R’ Us laden with gifts and compare your father’s handwriting with a note Santa left last Christmas. Demanding to know the truth, your father yells that you can’t handle the truth and spits in your face. You towel away the spittle while calmly connecting the car battery cables to his genitalia.