My daughter, my baby, my sweet child, my 15-year-old offspring had a little time on her hands after one of her midterms today, so she penned the following tale. I’m not sure whether I should be proud or worried. I present it for your consideration!
The Truth About Santa
“On Dasher! On Dancer! On Prancer and Vixen! On Comet! On Cupid! On Donner and Blitzen!” One can hear Santa’s call from almost anywhere. However, he is not calling his reindeer… not at all. His reindeer’s names are Fluffy, Spunky, Lady, Spot, Ralf, Jose, Bob, and Joe.
“Then why does Santa call out all those other names on Christmas Eve?” you may be asking. Well the truth about Santa is this – he has a drinking problem, and the names of what people have believed for years were the names of his reindeer are actually the names of what he believes are his magical flying iguanas.
“This all happened twenty years ago,” explains Mrs. Clara Claus. “Some teenager thought it would be funny to add a shot of vodka to his milk, and ever since he drank it, he’s been hooked. However, it’s only when he gets really stressed, and the holidays tend to pressure him more and more these days.”
She went on to explain that Christmas Eve is the worst and he is usually too drunk to do anything, so he definitely can’t drive his sleigh. “So I have to take over,” Mrs. Claus continues. “I’d hate to see all the kids sad because Santa didn’t come to their houses.” So she made a dress that matched Santa’s suit and started delivering presents herself.
This just goes to show that a man without a woman is just a drunken fat guy hallucinating about magical flying iguanas.
Incidentally, she’s taking 4 honors courses and her first report card was straight A’s… She is our future!! BWAHAHAHAHAHAHA
Oh yeah - get her registered on here - I have to fight her enough to get computer time at home…
I have let her read your comments, tho - she was delighted. After all, Mom is SUPPOSED to compliment your work, but when complete strangers offer kind words, it’s extra special! Thanks!
So THAT’S what happens when I black out every Christmas Eve! That would explain the frostbite, whip scars on my back, and the bits of raw carrots in my teeth. I was afraid something really strange was going on.
Incidentally, can you ask Ms. Claus to stop giving salsa to Spunky and Bob? See, they’re right in front of me in the team, and when she hits the afterburners… WHEW! The smell is something fierce!
Signed, Ralf Coder
PS: Be proud of your daughter, FairyChatMom! She’s got some talent there, and a good sense of humor!
I have to agrre with Welfy. That definitely sounds like some thing I would write. You should read some of the weird junk I’ve got laying around. Your daughter sounds like she’s a good kid with a great imagination.
