Merry Christmas!

[Collette Darden <csdarden@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx>]

                              SANTA'S DIARY
                       Copyright 1992, Dan McLean Jr
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                        Contains some harsh language
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December 21
Dear Diary,
Had one bitch of a day at the workshop today. Tricycle seats are
back-ordered 'til January 19 and the Elves are refusing to put my name on
the gift tags, so, I had to meet with the workshop union steward to sort
everything out. Apparently, they're peeved about the 'Top Ten List' I read
on Letterman last week: Top Ten Reasons Santa Decided To Have The Elves
Neutered. (Oversensitive Elf Teamsters can be a real pain in the ass, even
though that Kennedy-killer Hoffa is pushing up the daisies.)
Anyway, at 2:30 I had to show up at a sportscard show for autographs. Upper
Deck has just released the 'Holographic Yuletide' set and my agent thought
it'd be a good idea for me to put in an appearance.
By the time I got home, the Mrs was just finishing dessert and was watching
the end of Jeopardy. I was beat. She warmed up what was left of dinner, but
even her left-overs are good enough to make me think I'd marry her all over
again.

December 22
Dear Diary,
Ran into that rat bastard the Easter Bunny at the liquor store today. As
God is my witness, if I ever get the chance, that bunny's gonna be reindeer
food before you can say sauté with onions, add rice, and serve. At the
liquor store, neither of us said a word, but when he wasn't looking, I
slipped a mickey into his pocket and watched a security guard tackle him
into the slush after the unwitting hair-brained hare tripped the electronic
shoplifting detector on his way out the door. While he was busy trying to
talk his way out of it by claiming diplomatic immunity, I broke the side
window on his canary-yellow Miata, reached in, and made a call on his
cellular ... 1-416-976-OUCH ... 'The Spank Line'. I listened for a minute
or two, then just left the handset on the seat and walked away, the girl on
the other end still scolding & spanking like a handler backstage at
'Beverly Hills 90210'. All this at $4.99 per minute. Three-quarters of an
hour later, as I was loading groceries into the back of my mini-van, he was
finally being released from the liquor store. As soon as he spied his
car-phone through the broken window of his car he looked for me. I burned
rubber outta there. Rat bastard rabbit.  All-in-all, a very good day.

December 23
Dear Diary,
Most of the gifts we have parts for are built, and since the company
Christmas party is tonight, I sent most of the Elves over to the Legion
hall to get the decorations & catering ready. The place looked great and
the food was amazing! By about 10:30, there were reindeer prancing around
holding mistletoe over their heads, and Elves, blitzed on peach schnapps,
dancing on the tables. A couple of them were giggling and passing out
copies of Mrs Claus sitting on the photocopier.
We all danced & sang, and all was well & good until ... that rat bastard,
the Easter Bunny, crashed our little soiree with only 3 bottles left in his
case of 24. My blood was boiling, but I knew that if I tried to stand up
long enough to pummel him, I'd puke. I had to come up with a 'Plan B', not
an easy task when you're full of the old Christmas 'spirits', but I managed
to come up with one beauty of a little scheme. He was already almost
unconscious. He was so bad, in fact, that he was actually singing Christmas
carols with us, and calling me his 'old buddy', his arm around me, trying
to kiss me on the forehead. It took only two shots of tequila to make him
pass out. We leapt/staggered to action. We put a HUGE pot of lukewarm water
in the middle of the room and lowered the rabbit into it, being careful not
to wake him. Then we looted the caterer for some onions, carrots, potatoes
& parsley and tossed them in. I put on a big old chef's hat and an apron
that said 'Kiss The Cook', and everyone else sat around the pot with plates
and cutlery, making like we were going to munch on the little cottontail
chump. We managed to stay awake and kept drinking for a couple more hours,
waiting for him to wake up, and it was worth the wait. As soon as he
started to come around, I slipped some dry ice from the deli tray into the
pot. He woke up thinking he was dinner, and vaulted from the pot, screaming
like Yoko Ono on bikini-waxing day. During his sprint for the door, he
spilled water all over the floor and busted a window, but what the hell,
that's what the security deposit is for. Besides, we haven't laughed so
hard since we barnstormed right through Rabbi Feldman's synagogue on Yom
Kippur. Rat bastard rabbit.

December 24
Dear Diary,
I'm almost ready to leave, and this is probably the only chance I'll get to
write today.
Most of the Elves are pretty hung over today, but we're all still chuckling
over our little prank with our arch-rival last night, and all the last
minute stuff is getting done. The tricycle seats that were back-ordered
arrived today and that's the final job. We let the reindeer sleep it off
today since they've got a long, hard night ahead of them, and Mrs Claus has
just gone to wake them up. You know, I don't think she's seen the photocopy
of her that's taped to the lunchroom refrigerator.
This really has been a good year, even in light of the squabbles between
myself and the union. Next to Mrs Claus, the Elves really are my best
friends, and I'm pretty sure they feel the same way about me. Along with
the reindeer, we're a family, in a twisted sort of a way, and that seems to
mean a lot more to us at this time of year. I guess that's what Christmas
is all about.
After tonight, I think I'll sleep right through to New Year's Eve. We're
all invited to a kegger at Elvis Presley's.