Last Christmas, my wife and I were very poor. No electricity, no running water, and only a shovel and 50 acres behind the house to use as a bathroom. We were hard for money, but we were not unhappy.



About a month before Christmas, I was working in the office; it was late and my boss had already gone home for the evening. I had just finished up the books and placed them on my bosses table when I noticed that my dropping of the books on his desk had caused his computer screen to power up.



On the screen there, well, it looked like an angel - a Godsend of inspiration as to what I could get my wife for Christmas. It was this bic pen. This would be the perfect gift for my wife. She loves to write down thoughts and occasionally even take notes or make lists. How would I ever be able to afford such a thing?



As I was walking home, I took out my tobacco and my rolling papers and twisted myself another fag while I pondered how I could afford this present for my wife. The answer came to me like a heavenly host of angels singing praise that could shatter all the glass windows on the face of the earth! I could sell my tobacco in the town square for money for this item!



So, that night, on the walk home (it was a 50km walk, mind you) I found a man interested in buying my tobacco. He bought it for exactly what I needed to get this pen and have it shipped before Christmas day!



My excitement about this present was just too much to handle. I remember tossing and turning in bed, having nightmares where the pen didn't get delivered in time, or the pen didn't write properly; I would wake up in full on night sweats! However, to my joy, the package was delivered Christmas Eve!



I carefully wrapped the present in the only thing I could wrap it in - a plastic bag I found one day on the way home. I could not wait to see my wife's excitement.



That night, after my daily 50km walk home from work, the excitement came to a head, and I told my wife, Sue, that I had a present for her. She told me that she had one for me as well, and she went to go get mine. We sat in front of our fire (well, it was a lump of coal burning in a tin can), and after exchanging our gifts, we both tore into our packages like children on Christmas day!



The whole irony is that I sold my tobacco so that my wife could have this pen to write with, but she had sold her paper in the house to buy me rolling papers for my tobacco. Neither of us could use our gifts we had gotten the other!!!



We laughed for the next two hours about this and went to sleep that night. The next morning my wife had died in the night from a vicious badger attack in the middle of the night. Because of the protective lid on the pen, she was unable to defend herself that night. I have no idea why they did not attack me.