George asks Santa

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
That’s good as in skilled, not good as in a good person.
Even Santa had to admit that George was a good person.
“You’re on my nice list, George,” said Santa. “That’s rather surprising, because every other pirate is on my naughty list.”
“And did you get my wishlist?” said George.
“Yes,” said Santa. “A new hat.”
“One that won’t blow off of my head in a strong wind, right?” said George.
“Yes, yes,” said Santa. “Now get off of my lap, your cutlass is digging into my leg!”

George and the mall santa

George was a pirate, but he wasn’t a very good pirate.
Around Christmastime, he’d earn some extra cash as a Mall Santa.
But he wasn’t a very good Mall Santa, either.
He put on the suit, got up on the chair, and kids sat in his lap and asked him for things.
Everything went smoothly. No crying, pissing, vomiting, or long lines.
The mall’s owner fired him.
“When kids cry, their mothers buy them things,” said the boss. “When things go quickly and smoothly, they don’t buy anything.”
George plundered the mall and got some new boots. And oven mitts.

Here comes Santa Claus

Here comes Santa Claus, here comes Santa Claus.
Lock the windows!
Pull the blinds!
Bar the doors!
Turn off the lights!
Santa knocks on every door, and he tries to peer in through the windows.
“I know if you are sleeping,” he says. “And you’re most certainly not.”
Long ago, we all bricked over our chimneys and went to central heating.
No way that the fat bastard will get in through there.
That’s when we smell smoke.
Did he leave a flaming bag of poop on the doorstep? That kidder!
And then, we see the flames get higher… and higher.

Jesus candles

The noisy old lady in the apartment next to mine is always lighting those Jesus candles and leaving them in her window.
One day, I smelled smoke, and when I went outside to look, one of the candles had lit her drapes on fire.
I grabbed an extinguisher and knocked on her door, but she didn’t answer.
So, I kicked in the door, sprayed down her drapes and the candle, and called the fire department on my cell phone.
She screamed about an intruder and called the cops.
The cops took her away.
I re-lit the candle, and thanked Jesus.

Mrs. Claus

When Mrs. Claus falls under the weather, the elves begin their search.
They keep a list of old women.
Good-hearted spinsters who didn’t have any children of their own.
People nobody would miss.
“Didn’t she move to Florida?” people would ask.
In decent health, maybe a little chubby, with gray hair.
Natural, not dyed or a wig.
Good teeth, decent enough vision.
Can you bake cookies?
Good. Keep an eye on the old man. Keep him happy.
What’s with those snowmen outside? Oh, they’ve been there for ages.
Best to leave those frozen-over corpses alone.
You’ll join them soon enough.

Do you?

Do you see what I see?
That’s Santa’s sleigh, crashed in our backyard.
Yeah, he’s dead alright.
Man, what a mess!
Blood and guts everywhere.
And… presents! So many presents!
Do you hear what I hear?
Sirens. But they’re pretty far off, and the roads are icy.
It’ll take ’em a while to get here.
Are you thinking what I’m thinking?
Grab them presents and put ’em in the cellar!
They’re ours now. We found ’em fair and square.
Oh, and grab one of the reindeer carcasses.
Vixen, Comet… who cares?
We’ll chop him up for venison sausage and jerky.

Gift to myself

One of the many downsides of living alone and off of the grid is that I don’t get any birthday or Christmas gifts.
If I make anything for myself, it may be something I want and need, but it isn’t a surprise.
So, I make something and wrap it, and then get really drunk so I forget that I made it.
The problem is, if I get too drunk, I rip open the wrapping and open the present early.
Or I get drunk while I’m making my gift and ruin the damn thing.
Maybe I’ll just stick to getting drunk.