Santa keeps skipping my house every year. I mean, I'm usually a good person for like a week before Christmas. That seems reasonable enough to get a hi-five or maybe a couple drink vouchers at the VA. Ever since they closed down the local Elks Club I've had to search out new establishments with cheap PBR and senile bar tenders. This year I am going to wait for the fat man. That's right, I am going to sit up all night and when I see him lean out of his sleigh to take a dump on my roof (which he conveniently makes look like bird droppings, but I know it's him), that's when I pull out the 12 gauge and take out Rudolph first. Next come Donner, Blitzen, then Sneezy and Dopey. And then the last two that I think are named Larry and Sergey. And when the fat man comes tumbling down to earth, screaming, "lordy, lordy, help me lord", I'll be there laughing. And I have a special present to give him from my big red sack. I hope you like chunky eggnog, elf fucker!
