I went to a charity fund raiser breakfast this morning to help the local volunteer fire company and the American Legion. Since this is the last breakfast before Christmas, Santa Claus came in.
We had just finished our bacon and scrambles and were starting on the biscuits and gravy. Before my first bite, the front door opened and a chill filled the room. Then I heard the most annoying laugh to ever grate on human ears: Ho Ho Ho!
Just then my loving bride hits me with the awful news, “Santa Claus is here.” Great, the antichrist of Christmas is here, whoop-de-do-oo! What a way to ruin a good day before 9 o’clock in the morning. Now breaking my fast has become turning my stomach. How can this wonderful time of the year turn so sour so swiftly?
What could I say, but, “So the old B-” Here I stopped myself from becoming a Vulgarian, I was going to use an expletive unbecoming a Christian. The quote went this way: “So the old B- The old guy is here, Ho Ho, who cares, may he rot in – heck!”
About this time the old B- guy – was circulating among the tables greeting young and old alike saying, “Merry Christmas!”
It was merry until he showed up. When the old B- guy – got to our table he had the nerve to say, “Merry Christmas!” The big phony!
“Bah, Humbug,” was my response. I’m not a Scrooge about Christmas, just Santa Claus. At this time the children were booing at me. My bride was turning red in the face. Women were sitting with mouths agape. Men were rising up clenching their fists.
“It is never too late to get in the Christmas spirit,” said the old- guy.
“I had the Christmas spirit before you ruined it, you big fat phony. I’ll never forgive you for forgetting the air rifle.” I said.
“That was sixty years ago,” said Santa, “I couldn’t let you have an air rifle at age ten, you could have shot an eye out.”
“You knew I was not musical, I would have settled for anything but a harmonica!” I retorted. “Why would anybody think I wanted a HARMONICA!”
“That was the year I needed new glasses and your hand writing was atrocious for a ten year old. If it weren’t for computers I still wouldn’t be able to read your letters,” replied big phony with a capital F.
“Shows how much you know, fatso, I haven’t written you since I was ten,” was my comeback.
“I still have my naughty and nice spies out and they told me about your penmanship. They also say that this is the first year that you’ve been nice. Say Merry Christmas to me and you get the air rifle,” calmly replied Santa.
I still want that rifle so I caved, “Merry Christmas, Santa Claus.”