Due to anticipated delays by the TSA and the reindeer having to dodge bullets from Sarah Palin, Santa started delivering presents early this year. He stopped by my house last night.
He rolled out of the chimney and smack into a giant stack of newspapers. (Don’t touch those, Santa, I haven’t read them yet!)
He looked for a Christmas tree. (Nice idea, but where would I put it? Next to that pile of junk? Or over there next to that pile of stuff? Don’t electric saws and sanders belong in the garage? Just askin’…)
Santa tugged on his beard as he peered around the living room looking for ANY Christmas decorations. (And I would have time to decorate when? In my sleep? While I’m bathing? In the car on my way to work?)
“Hmm,” Santa said. “I’ll just put this present on the couch. There must be a couch in here somewhere.”
Sorry, Santa, but two (or was it three) years ago Ye Ol’ Hubby Man gave away our couch (and the matching chairs and coffee table)—as part of a home-improvement project—something about hardwood floors. It’s been so long I forget. So instead of a couch we have another decorative pile of crap.
Santa noticed the dining room table was covered with computers, printers, pencil holders, staplers, rulers, five pairs of reading glasses, a giant magnifying glass, an energy strip, and mounds of paperwork.
Santa had a sinking thought: Not getting any cookies and milk at this house, am I?
Santa put his hands on his hips and snapped (after all, it had already been a long night and someone had tried to “touch his junk” for crying out loud!), “Who the heck lives here?”
Just your average “over-stressed, over-worked, over-screwed-over by the financial institutions, over-lied by the politicians, over-manipulated by MSM, over-bamboozled by Big Business and Big Pharma, and over-hoodwinked by idiot Internet entities” American.
Santa dumped the present on the one piece of floor that wasn’t cluttered. He didn’t bother going back up the chimney but fled out the door. He couldn’t wait to tell Rudolph what he saw.
Hey Santa, don’t judge until you’ve walked my hectic life in fuchsia heels, pal!
Rudolph, in his wise reindeer way (don’t let the red nose fool you), replied, “Old Saint Nick, kindly old man that you are, times have changed. This was a brutal year around the world. Our pleasant little spot on Earth, with a cozy atmosphere and happy workers, is a FAIRY TALE. What you have here is REALITY!”
And hope you all have a REAL Christmas, too.
