Question: “What does Santa do in the garden?”
Answer: “Ho ho ho!”
Merry Christmas everybody. May your heart be light, though that seems unlikely with the massive quantities of egg nog, fatty meats and baked goods you’re consuming. Ah, screw it. The world ended on December 21 anyway and is now just a burnt-out shell of former human habitation (you’re probably reading this post using a stick to shift embers of your computer, bathed in the glow from your flaming dining room set.). So live it up! At least for once you had a holiday gathering with your relatives where you had something to talk about other than Uncle Ben’s drinking problem and how pissed your sister Suzie is that you never take her side.
Since ’tis the season to offer up reruns, I came across this piece that I wrote at Christmastime like eight years ago (well, not like eight. It actually was eight. Shut up.) for one of my old, defunct websites. I came across it the other night and it kind of amused me. So here it is. Hope it does the same for you. Happy holidays.
SANTA’S PRESS CONFERENCE
(Originally published December 11, 2005)
He moodily rippled the somber stillness of the darkened room by slowly moving an arm to flip on the TV. WXMS correspondent Ann Elf was seated behind a desk rimmed in candy cane red and white, apparently not aware she was now live. She could be heard shifting her jingle-belled feet nervously.
Suddenly aware, Ann Elf bobbed her red and green-hatted head slightly and said, “Good afternoon. We interrupt this afternoon’s marathon of crappy holiday specials that don’t have Charlie Brown, Frosty, or Rudolph to bring you live coverage of Santa Claus’s press conference. The reason for Mr. Kringle’s decision to meet the press has not been revealed, but perhaps we will get some answers shortly.” Out of words, Ann Elf smiled nervously.
She paused, an expression of intense listening on her face. The viewer watching all this on TV shifted and burped.
Ann Elf continued. “I’m being told Pere’ Noel is now approaching the podium at the gateway to the Christmas Tree Forest at Santa’s Castle. Let’s go there now live.”
The TV studio was replaced on the moody viewer’s screen by the splendid richness of color that characterized the grounds of Santa’s Castle. The big man approached the microphone, after shifting his wide, patent-leather belt. “Ho, ho, ho!” he bellowed merrily – as if there were any other way – to the assembled reporters; elves, dwarves, unicorns, and Anderson Cooper.
Santa’s eyes twinkled at the assembled journalists, except Helen Thomas, who was dozing.
“My friends,” Santa said, gesturing widely with green-mittened hands. “As you’ve doubtless heard by now, Christmas is being cancelled this year.”
The expected rumbling ensued. The television viewer grimaced and watched. Among the journalists, all hands shot up, eager to ask the inevitable question. Santa motioned them down.
“Let me explain,” he said. “There will be Christmas – on a date yet to be determined following completion of the North Pole merger with Wal-Mart into a new company to be run by one of Donald Trump’s apprentices.”
“So, when will it be?” asked one voice in the back.
“We’re thinking March or April. Or maybe June,” Santa said, chewing on the question as he spoke. “Probably on a Monday to take full advantage of a last shopping weekend.”
“Will Rudolph be a part of the new company?” asked a talking squirrel clutching a Blackberry.
Tersely, Santa replied, “Rudolph has opted to take a position with Municipal Power and Light. We wish him well.”
“Man,” the rumpled man in holey socks said as he watched this spectacle, scratching himself idly. “No Santa? No Rudolph? No Christmas on December 25? I busted my butt to scrape up some goodwill to spread around to my fellow beings despite being unemployed and broke.” His scowl deepens. “Plus, I’ll bet now I won’t get that X-Box 360.”
The man hunkers down lower into the cushions of his three-legged couch, sulking.
“So what’s Chanukah all about?”
(Time traveling back to the 2012) So was it any good? I promise all new stuff next post.
HAPPY HOLIDAYS! (Your pick. I care not a whit what holiday you choose or which one you greet me with when I buy stuff in your check out lane at the store as long as you leave all the pie for me.)