Sure, it was bad weather that brought down Kobe Bryant’s helicopter.
Because of all that fog, Santa Claus couldn’t see where he was going.
Even with Rudolph’s red nose lighting the way.
Because Santa’s sleigh doesn’t show up on radar.
No radio or flight plan, either.
So when some rich former athlete ignores the tower’s weather warnings and just has to get his ass from here to there, well, God forbid there’s a jolly old man taking his sleigh out for a test run.
Oh, kids. Don’t worry.
Santa’s fine.
Just don’t ask him for a Kobe jersey for Christmas.
Because you really need a story about a goddamned puppy
Tina wanted a puppy for Christmas.
She asked for one all the time.
On Christmas Day, she woke up, ran down the stairs, and…
No puppy.
But when she opened her gifts: a dog collar, a bowl, some treats, and a pooper scooper.
“Let’s go to the shelter and get a puppy,” her dad said.
So, they went to the shelter, and Tina looked at the puppies.
“I don’t like any of them,” she said.
“Well, what kind do you want?” asked her dad.
Tina couldn’t decide.
So, the collar, bowl, treats, and scooper sat in the corner, gathering dust.
LED astray
To save money, we recycled our old Christmas lights and bought ones with LEDs.
They were much cheaper when it came to electricity.
They were also programmable, so we strung them up all over the house and constructed a playlist to animate some reindeer and snowmen.
Well, the guys we hired to string them up. There’s no way we’re getting up on ladders and the roof again, after what happened last year.
Oh, and we added light projectors and music and…
The electric bill for December was through the roof.
Maybe next year, we’ll just stick with a small tree.
Santa goes online
Santa’s a bit of a traditionalist.
It took a long time for him to let kids mail him their wish lists.
Heck, he still has a fax machine in his office.
Sure, he keeps running out of that thermal paper.
He’s finally coming around to the Internet, email, and the web.
Problem is, Santa Claus the username is taken everywhere.
And how does Santa Claus prove that he’s real and who he says he is?
He just asks the owners of those usernames and domains nicely.
And if they say no, they’re on his naughty list until they give in.
Weekly Challenge #765 – PICK ONE
- Lizzie
- Richard
- Serendipidy
- Tom
- Norval Joe
- Tura
- Rick
- Planet Z
LIZZIE
Pick one, they said. Yeah. Easier said than done. There were so many wonderful pieces available and he just couldn’t choose one. So, he decided to do what anyone else would. Flip a coin, right? He smiled. OK, that one will do fine. Everyone said he was always distracted and this time he would prove them wrong. This was just perfect. A March! There!
When he was kicked out, the groom’s father was foaming at the mouth and roaring “This is the bloody Funeral March, the Funeral March”. He just whispered “Well, the poor bride didn’t look that happy anyway”.
RICHARD
Gifted
Pik Wun crouched lower in the bush, listening for the tell-tale rustle of undergrowth, muscles straining to keep the bow string taut.
Unaware of its fate the jungle pig emerged from the greenery, snuffling the ground, intent on finding something good to eat.
The arrow was true, and Pik Wun would have meat to sell at market tomorrow.
He was a good hunter, and despite his parent’s constant entreaties to go to school and make his mark upon humanity, what really could he offer the world?
He sold the virus-laden meat next day.
His offering to the world.
SERENDIPIDY
I held out my fist and invited my companions to pick one.
One at a time, hands trembling, they reached out and each drew a straw, an arbitrary act that would seal their fate.
Each having taken their turn, only mine remained, and it was I who drew the short straw.
They bound me and abandoned me – an offering to the ogre – then fled to the hideaway before nightfall.
The ogre was an agreeable fellow, and was happy to exchange my life for directions to the hideout.
I walked free, and the ogre and his family feasted on my companions.
TOM
Cluster Fuck Final Destination
Greg thanked everyone for coming out to celebrate the life of a larger than life woman. “Many of you consider yourselves closer to Ann. I have heard some say they were best friend.” OH NO I thought I know exactly where this is going. Greg paused for effect and stared straight into the eyes of the woman in the front row. She nearly recoiled from the pressures gradient slipping past her into the whole theater. “I am Ann’s fucking best friend.” I pick up one of the pray cards, sure enough there is was in print Greg Lambert: Fuckn Best Friend.
NORVAL JOE
Mr. Withybottom shook his finger at his daughter. “Listen, Linoliamanda. I’m your father and you’ll do as I say. Where is your loyalty, to your family, or this boy?”
Linoliamanda finally spoke. “If I have to pick one of you to defend, it will be Billbert. He’s been kind to me since we first met. He doesn’t treat me like a weirdo like everyone else at school. If he has secrets that these men want to know, they will have to find out some other way.”
Mr. Withybottom’s face turned bright red and he looked as if he would explode.
TURA
Pick one
———
The troll at the bridge barred our way. “Feathers or lead?” it demanded. “Pick one!”
“Don’t answer,” our guide whispered urgently. “Under his geas he can’t attack us unless we guess wrong, and he decides.”
“Scylla or Charybdis?” it boomed.
“How long does this go on?” I asked the guide.
“He’ll run down eventually,” said the guide. “We’ll get past while he’s thinking up new questions.”
I shouted to the troll, “Pick one or pick two?” It stopped to puzzle over this and froze in thought.
It was still standing there, petrified, when we returned from our quest months later.
RICK
The Pick
Patty knew … Kira knew… It wasn’t a secret … Not anymore. Seeing two women is exhausting, especially when it is covert. At least that part was over.
Mad as a couple of hornets, stabbing eyes, and spitting fire …
“Pick one they said!”
Unfortunately … It just wasn’t that simple.
Larry loved them both! Each truly wonderful in both similar and different ways. These two girls covered a wide spectrum without ever stepping out of bounds. The honest truth being that picking one over the other was simply undoable.
If there was any picking to do Larry wouldn’t be the person doing it!
PLANET Z
The Caretaker goes from ecosystem to ecosystem, collecting specimens.
“Pick one” was the rule of The Zoo.
“You can always go back and get more,” said The Director.
The Caretaker’s massive Ark contained species from around the quadrant.
Collector vessels docked with the Ark, and The Caretaker offloaded the living specimens to the Zoo vessels.
Those that hadn’t survived, he preserved and sent to the Museum vessels.
And he added them to the next collection run.
Some species never survived the collection process.
But after thousands of years, The Caretaker didn’t care.
And he just went back out for more.
North Pole Nudist Society
The movies have Santa’s Workshop all wrong.
There aren’t elves sitting at benches, building toys.
Instead, they outsource all of their manufacturing to factories in third-world countries.
Is China third-world country? Doesn’t seem like it, these days.
Thanks to all of Santa’s contracts.
The elves just handle the logistics and accounting.
They also don’t wear silly green and red suits with pointy shoes.
Because, in spite of the climate, the North Pole is a nudist colony.
Okay, so they wear the pointy felt hats.
On their heads.
How do they stay warm?
Well, that’s why there are so many elves.
Jesus has my back
Bailey has a tattoo of Jesus on the cross.
It covers her whole back.
She loves to show it off at parties.
She takes off her jacket, pulls her shirt up.
When she rolls her shoulders, it looks like Jesus is struggling with the nails in his hands.
She tilts back her head, and Jesus slumps, dead.
Pulls her shirt back down, puts her jacket back on.
Thing is, she’s an agnostic.
The tattoo was from an ex-boyfriend who drugged her.
She dumped the guy, but kept the ink.
“Jesus has my back” she says.
And she laughs and laughs.
Totally Lying
Sure, people talk about the Christmas Truce in World War One, but how many talk about the Easter Escalation of the Crimean War?
Of course people don’t. Because I just made it up.
I make up a lot of things.
As long as they sound good, you’ll believe them without questioning them.
But a few people will bother to Google the event, maybe look it up in WikiPedia.
And they discover that I’m talking out of my ass and making things up.
At that point, you won’t believe a thing.
And I can pretty much write anything I want to.
Elvish Bonfire of the Vanities
Year after year, Santa’s Workshop produced its wooden toys and dolls and the traditional crap nobody wants anymore.
The fat old man, slumped in his throne, smiling and nodding.
Signing papers the elves brought to him.
More wood, more paint.
“Very good, very good.”
The Workshop. Raw materials came in one end, and toys went out the other.
But instead of loading them on to Santa’s sleigh, the elves put it all in a pile
And when the pile was high enough, they poured kerosene on it and lit a match.
They’d sing a few carols and return to work.
Milk and Cookies and More
It’s tradition to leave out a plate of cookies and a glass of milk for Santa.
Where this tradition began, I’m not sure, but leave it to consumerism and capitalism to exploit the shit out of it.
Cookie companies buy a lot of advertisement space to make people think that they’re Santa’s favorite cookie.
From the size of Santa, they’re probably all right.
That big fat pig will eat just about anything.
Except for a salad, maybe.
One vegan company claims that Santa prefers soy milk to regular milk. Their soy milk, obviously.
But not even Santa drinks that crap.