Monday, December 1, 2014
It's Beginning to Feel a lot like Christmas
Well hello there, children. You all seem to have awakened Santa from his slumbers in the back alley outside of Kmart. I guess you're all wondering where Santa's pants have gone. It's a goddamn mystery. If someone could find them, I'd appreciate it. That little boy or girl will get whatever they want for Christmas, or at least whatever's left in this bottle of Jameson. Boy, Santa feel like he got run over by a reindeer, boys and girls. There are thirty-thousand elves knocking around in his head.
Oh Christ, I'm missing my wallet. Anybody see my wallet? Did the goddamn rats run off with it again? I tell ya, there are rats the size of golden retrievers in this alley. I pop out here from time to time to take a load off, and I see them crawling the walls. One time I kicked them away from something they were gnawing on, and it was a man's hand. Shit, I think they may have been about to go to work on Santa when you little guys got here. I got bite marks all over my legs. I'm going to have to get a rabies shot.
Hey there Jimmy or Timmy or whatever the fuck your name is, do you think you could run in and smuggle out Santa a six pack? Maybe just hide it in your sweater? Nobody's gonna frisk a kid. You could be in and out in a minute, tops. Santa feels like hanging out here for a little while longer. Santa's not ready to go back to work. Or just ask Janice the elf to buy Santa another beer. She's the elf with the cigarette hanging out of her mouth. The one with yellow teeth. Hey, Santa gets it where he can these days. He ain't too particular, if you know what I'm saying.
By the way, where the hell are all of your parents? Why are there ten kids hanging out in an alley talking to a mall Santa? What are you guys, the Little Rascals? The Scooby gang? You sure as hell don't talk much like regular kids. In fact, you all look a little weird to Santa, and that's not his beer goggles talking.
What are you guys, Children of the Corn? Jimmy there's got a mouthful of sharp teeth, and red eyes like he's been smoking weed all night. You guys part of a cult? Hey, Santa don't wanna join. You keep the hell away from Santa. Santa's got mace somewhere. I think it's stuck in one of my folds. Don't come any nearer unless you want those eyes to melt out of your sockets. You let Santa put some distance between this alley and you.
Christ, Santa needs AA. Santa can't be waking up like this no more.