Gifts of the Magi

I used to demand lots of toys for Christmas.
So, my parents read me “The Gift of the Magi.”
That’s where a woman sells her hair to buy a chain for her husband’s pocketwatch, and the husband sells his pocketwatch for a set of brushes for his wife.
“Her hair grew back, right?” I said.
“That’s not the point,” said my parents. “It’s the thought that counts.”
So, I thought about it a lot.
And I sold my dad’s pocketwatch.
I was going to sell my mom’s hair, but she caught me trying to cut it off while she slept.

Santa’s Lights

Every year, we put up a Christmas tree.
Even though we have enough ornaments with which to decorate a tree, we always buy more.
A new set of shiny balls… another box of tinsel…
And lights. So many strings of lights.
From bulbs to LEDs, simple lights and patterned lights.
We have enough lights for an airport runway.
If you strung all of the lights end to end, they would reach the North Pole.
So, we try it. And sure enough, they reach the North Pole.
“Turn those off,” growls Santa. “I’m trying to sleep.”
And he closes his blinds.

Fat Freddy

Every year, Fat Freddy Lawson would dress up in his Santa costume and go out to the park, spreading Christmas cheer.
However, after the heart attack, Fat Freddy went on a diet and exercised, and he wasn’t fat anymore.
The costume hung loosely on him, and stuffing his pants with a pillow didn’t look quite right.
So, he gave his costume to Fat Tony.
Fat Tony looked the part, but he got a little too playful with kids in the park, and the cops arrested him.
Freddy made a note to teach the next Santa how not to get caught.

Santa and the heart

I remember when a little deaf girl sat in Santa’s lap, but Santa didn’t speak sign language, the girl mumbled incomprehensibly, and she was signing too quickly for her mother to translate.
“Can she just write it down?” said Santa, handing a pad and pen to the girl.
She drew a heart.
So, Santa told one of his helper elves to stand still, and he punched the elf in the chest and tore out his heart, showing it to him before he died.
“Will this do?” said Santa.
The girl shrieked and cried.
“Well, I understood that,” said Santa. “NEXT!”

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.