Coin Return

I knocked out a front tooth playing football with Albert and Sasha. Actually Sasha knocked it out for me. Walked around for two hours with a wad of Wrigley’s stuck in the gap until Sassafras showed up, much to Mrs. Claus’s chagrin.

“What size are you?” she asked, dumping her huge backpack onto the floor and rummaging through the pile.

“Size?” I asked. The “S” whistled through my teeth.

She waved her hand without looking up. “Never mind. You’re probably a 16R.”

“16R?”

“Yeah, 16R, see?” she asked, pulling a tooth from the pile with great satisfaction and showing it to me. “Go ahead, try it on.”

I didn’t know whether to be grateful or repulsed. I wasn’t sure how I felt about wearing someone else’s tooth in my mouth. The funny thing about Sassafras is that she has a number of missing teeth of her own. Mostly molars. And I never see her wearing anyone else’s discarded teeth in HER mouth.

But I tried it on anyway and it fit great.

“Thanks, Sassafras,” I said, “but why do you carry around a bunch of old teeth?”

“Like I have anything else to do with them. You ought to see the pile I have. Huge”

“I bet you’ve gone through twice as many quarters though, huh?” I said.

“No”, she said. “I have a lot more quarters, even with new teeth coming in every day..”

My eyes narrowed. “How are you managing that?”

“What?” she said, like it was no big deal. “You come back for the turtlenecks. Sometimes I come back for the quarters.”

Umpa Lumpas on Craigslist

Trickster, the prince of Halloween invited me out to his ranch in Montana. He and Mother Nature bought 500 acres south of Bozeman several years ago. I had trepidations about going because you never quite know what to expect with Trickster. Sometimes he’s mellow and serious, other times, more prone to violence. There was a party one time where I had brought him a special jug of elf mead, to drink as needed for medicinal use of course. Things were festive for a while with Trickster sitting back, taking a sip now and then – the jug never far out of his reach, and telling some old zombie stories. But suddenly the night turned dark and terrifying when Trickster got it in his head that Dexter and Pete, two youngsters from his gremlin posse where sneaking gulps from the mead jug when Trickster wasn’t looking. Trickster jumped to his feet and threatened to cut off their scaly ears and use them for pumpkin embellishments.

“They got their own shit,” he said to me through the sagging slits of his drunken eyes.

Like I said, you never know with him.

But I figured this time it would be okay because Mother Nature would be there and she always had a calming effect on him. Except June through November. Hurricane season. And even though it was only September, the hurricane season had been light – just a few small countries in Africa got obliterated - not even worth mentioning really, and both of them were in fine moods when I arrived.

I sat down at the kitchen table opposite Trickster, and smiled pleasantly.

“So tell me,” Trickster said after a moment. “You ever have problems with your elves, and by “problems” I mean do you ever find it necessary to kill them?”

“No, never had to kill an elf, Trickster,” I said.

“Never, huh…” he said. “Gee.” He thought about that. “You just whip them?”

“Uh, no, Trickster, I don’t” I said, looking at Mother Nature for a clue where this was going.

He sighed heavily. “Reason I ask is that a few of the gremlins accidentally, and by “accidentally” I mean did something they weren’t supposed to do and then lied about it… well, they broke into Mother Nature’s prize rose garden and made a mess of the place.”

Mother Nature stared absent-mindedly out the kitchen window. “They broke all the flowers, not just the roses.” She looked at the back yard and took in a deep breath of lilac and magnolia. She closed her eyes. “But I can always grow more,” she said, cradling the dish towel to her chest like a nursing baby. She smiled dreamingly. “I can always grow more.”

“That’s not the point, Mother,” Trickster said, shaking his head.

He looked at me and slapped my knee. “Hey, know what we ought to do?”

I hesitated.

“We need to get rid of all the elves and gremlins and get us some Umpa Lumpas.”

Mother Nature turned from the window and clicked her tongue at Trickster.

“What Mother?” Trickster shot back. “I can get Umpa Lumpas if I want to! You don’t think I can? I’ll steal them if I have to.” He turned to me. “Someone’s got to have some Umpa Lumpas around here, don’t you think? I wonder if they have any on Craigslist?”

“You're not stealing any Umpa Lumpas from anyone.” Mother Nature clutched the towel to her chest again. “They need to be free and happy and play in the fields and laugh and sing with all the elves and those nasty gremlins too.” She paused for a moment and then said thoughtfully, “I wonder if Umpa Lumpas come toilet trained, or if you have to do that yourself.”

You gotta love Mother Nature.

She helps me remember that it’s the little, unimportant things about people that matter.

Bad Rash

I bumped into Sarah Palin during one of her photo ops at the outlet mall.
I asked her where the bathroom was.
She wanted to know if I was Santa.
"Yes," I said, shrugging. "Guilty as charged."
"So how come you're not wearing your red coat and those shiny boot thingies?" She asked. Very classy.
I clamped my jaw. "Because I'm off duty."
"Huh?"
"I'm off duty." I rolled my eyes. "Listen, Queenie, if I'm not working, I not wearing the suit. You think I wear that suit year round? You have any idea what kind of rash I would have if I did that!"

What a nut!

Nobody around here is ever in costume during the off season. Rodriguez doesn't wear his little elf suit when he's trying to fit in on Rodeo Drive I can tell you that. And he never wears a hat. Never. Not even on Christmas Eve. He likes to keep his bald head exposed to the wind. Loves to dive headfirst into snowbanks. Says it's very sensual, like he would know.

Yes, as anyone can plainly see in that big picture at the top of the page, I have a turtleneck on. And it's not even red. During the off season - and let's face it guys- that's pretty much 364 days a year, I'm partial to turtlenecks - mocks - blue jeans, and desert boots. Light suede.

Put it on your list.

Yeah, that's an idea...put a couple of turtlenecks - mock - and a pair of desert boots on your Christmas list. I'll bring the "presents" to you Christmas Eve, and then come back for them Christmas afternoon.

Sound good?

So let's just keep that "pouting" crap stuffed and on the low-down for a couple of months, OK? Just until December. Until I get my stuff. After that, I don't care what you do.

You need to do the right thing here.

The Night Shift

Mrs. Claus is being a mite testy with me right now because a few minutes ago I accidentally told her the pea soup needed salt.

Guess I'm sleeping with the boys in the bunkhouse tonight!

I sure hope Lando is working the night shift...That is one loud, snorin' elf! And Albert and Sasha up all night, playing Risk.

If I had known elves were nocturnal, I never would have bought them from that elf trader in Latvia.

I Have Absolutely No Response to This Whatsoever

Ok, I guess I do have a response: Oh come on now! Does this kind of crap really fly?

Some of you Children of the World just can't get enough of busting Santa's balls, can you?
And you know who you are, don't you? Oh yeah you do, you
toddler paparazzi. I'll bet you're the same little elves who egged my jeep when
I was visiting my sister in Florida.

That's ok. Keep it up.

I got my lists and I got my LISTS. Know what I mean?

Merry yada yada
Santa

Sweet Sassafras

Here's a picture of me and Sassafras the Tooth Fairy taking a bike ride through the foothills of Maui. Mrs. Claus won't come on these adventures with me. She's such a downer sometimes. Sassafras calls her Meno-Clause.

Uh-Uh

My head elf Rodriguez says he wants a raise. I told him when he has as much hair on his head as he does on his ass, I'll think about it.

Lunch At Outback

So I went to Outback last week for lunch. Had to fly all the way to Nome, Alaska, -the closest one - with Rudolph complaining all the way about how cold it was.
"Listen you son-of-a-reindeer!" I yelled from the front of the sleigh. "No one told you you had to come!"
"You need my nose!" he yelled back.
"The elf I do," I laughed. "I have the power to fly entirely around the world a gazillion times in less than a day. You really think I need your elfing nose to see where I'm going? Come on!"

It's the off season around here and Santa badly needs some down time. At the Outback, I ordered a big steak and a couple of lobster tails, and was just diving into my Caesar salad when two punks from the next table sheepishly sidled over to my table and sat down. They had already been scoping me out for the past five minutes from their own table with their droopy, Vicodin-laden eyes and dopey grins, so I knew it was just a matter of time before they got the bright idea to come over and say hello to Santa.

They sat down. No preamble. No explanations or excuses. Just sat down grinning. I was in the middle of picking my teeth - a piece of a crouton had gotten jammed in there - but I just put my fork down and tried to smile, the crouton peeking out between two incisors.

"Hello," I said. "Uh...can I help you?"

They looked at each other and giggled. It was obvious more than just one drug was coursing through their veins.

The guy tried to say something but nothing came out. He couldn't stop giggling. Then the girl leaned forward and after staging a big production like she was about to recite the Dennis Hopper "Eggplant" speech from True Romance, instead simply said "Hi." It was a long, drawn-out kind of "hi," as if her tongue had gotten stuck and kept repeating, hammering continuously like a keyboard letter on the roof of her mouth.

Suddenly the guy's brain kicked in and his face got all serious. I could practically see his neurons firing in the background, shuffling Quadratic equations and such aside just so he could finally blurt out a sentence: "You're Santa, right?"
"Uh huh," I said, nodding. "I am."
"See," he said to the girl, beaming. "It IS Santa!"
"And you're what?" I said. "About twenty-eight? Give me a break here, but I'm trying to have dinner."
The girl grinned widely. "That lobster tail sure does looks good!"
"It IS good," I said, already bored, "but I'm going to stick my neck out here and venture a guess that you're going to want a bite, aren't you Buttercup?"
"I'd love a bite!" she gushed, and suddenly snatched a piece from the plate with her fingers.
I laughed.
Then she went for another one.
Well, the long and short of it is, I had to stab her head with my fork to get her to let off my food. It wasn't a deep gouge and I think I only caught her with just two of the tines but it did bleed a bit.

That's a picture of us just after I stuck her. I had to tightly compress my hand over the cut so it wouldn't bleed too much. I guess I cut her deeper than I thought. They're only smiling in the picture because I promised to bring them some OxyContin for Christmas early even though it was only May. But only if they were good.

On my way out of the restaurant I stopped by their table.
"Hey you two. Here's an early present," I said, tossing my dinner check to them. "Take care of it, will you? And hey," I paused, heading for the door, "Have a merry!"

Santa's Sick

Santa isn't feeling very well today. I caught a cold a few days ago carrying buckets of oats back and forth in the elfin' snow to the barn for the reindeer because Rodney, my loopy feed specialist got a hang-nail and called in sick. I think I definitely had one too many shots of Nyquil last night considering that Herman, my lead elf in Technology R & D says he found me this morning passed out underneath the particle accelerator bubble chamber, mumbling something about Mrs. Claus not fulfilling her fellation duties...so bottom line, give me a break today.

Dear Children of the World

Dear Children of the World,

First of all, I am not your sugar-daddy. If you want something, do what the rest of us do: stop whining and get a job. Secondly, no, i will NOT be renewing my membership with AAA. Stop asking. Don't worry, I'll be fine. I got a jack. Finally, perhaps you should be asking yourself this question instead: what will you be getting ME this year?

Yours in Christmas and stuff,
Santa