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From: ROFOUR@news-feed.delphi.com (ROFOUR@DELPHI.COM)
Subject: Line-talk: Christmas, Fa la la la la, la la la la.
Date: 1995/09/22
Message-ID: <43ud1i$op7@news.wwa.com>
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approved: boba@wwa.com
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organization: Delphi Internet Services Corporation
newsgroups: misc.creativity,rec.arts.ascii,rec.arts.prose,rec.humor


      ________     
     ,%%%%%%%%\    
   ,/%%%%%\~~\%%\. Well, it's that time of year again, when all the
 ,/%%%%%%%%~\, ~** Hallmark Gift shops and other holiday-oriented stores 
,%%%%%%%%%%%,      begin displaying their nauseating stock of Christmas-
|%%%%%%%%%%%|      commercialization goodies.  So, I figure, why should
 )(  q  q )(       USENET be any different?  Of course, we here on the
 ((.   o  ))       net must adhere to the anarchist creed of truth at any
 ((()) O  ((       cost -- so now I present a story, not for the light-
  )))(()()))       hearted.  Prepare yourselves: the truth behind Christmas.
    ((((())(       
     ))(((()      
       )))(             


******************************************************************************
THE CHRISTMAS CRISIS
 Copyright 1995, David Hoover


        Once there was a man named Puck Dahmer, who made his living
as a bicycle messenger.  He had a good career when he was young, because 
he was smart and fast. Over the years however, his career began to wither 
dry, for he became old and slow.  As a result, he became ever more depressed
and violent -- and all because he never got what he wanted from Santa.
        One Christmas Eve Puck had a little too much eggnog.  He made a
batch of marijuana brownies and filled a glass with some milk laced with
Everclear.  Then he set a trap for Santa by setting the food out to eat.
Cackling evilly to himself, he went to bed. Later that night, Santa came
down the chimney, ate the brownies, drank the milk, danced with the
Christmas tree and passed out.  When Puck woke up, he found Santa sitting
on top of the Christmas tree with a bow on his head and explaining to a
light fixture, in a slightly slurred voice, why he felt trapped by his
marriage.  Puck smiled to himself and proceeded with the second part of his
plan -- to take the fat man prisoner as revenge for all the presents he had
never received.  After Puck got Santa off the tree and tied to a chair
(which took a while, since Puck never suspected that Santa had a boot knife
or that he would be such a good fighter with it, even drunk), Santa
screamed, "How dare you offend the Mighty Thor!! I will smite you for
your blasphemy!!!"  He began waving his one free arm around in circles,
pretending he had a mighty hammer and making smiting noises with his mouth.
After his shoulder began to cramp up, he calmed down a bit.  
        Puck took the opportunity to ask him, "Santa, why didn't you ever 
bring me what I wanted for Christmas?  I asked for a moped because I was 
tired of pedaling all over the freakin' city!  All you ever gave me was a 
bunch of rock-hard fruitcakes and, finally, a pony!  Well, I wouldn't 
have minded the pony, except IT WAS FREAKIN' DEAD!!"
        Santa screamed, "Well, bite me!!  The pony was FINE until I tried 
to wrap it...  How the heck was I supposed to know that it couldn't 
breathe through the paper!?"
        Puck screamed back, "SHUT UP, FAT MAN!  FORGET ABOUT THE PONY, 
HOW COME YOU NEVER GOT ME THE MOPED!?? "
        "Listen, you little smegger," said Santa.  "You never got the 
moped because we don't handle ANYTHING mechanical, so STUFF THAT IN YOUR 
PIPE AND SMOKE IT!!"
        "Why the heck not?!  Why don't you handle anything mechanical!  I 
WANT THE TRUTH OUT OF YOU, YOU FAT COMMIE," demanded Puck.
        "THE TRUTH!?  YOU WANT THE TRUTH?  YOU CAN'T HANDLE THE TRUTH!" 
screamed Santa. "Besides, it's classified."  With this, Santa reached 
into a hidden pocket and yanked out a live grenade.
        "HO, HO, HO, HERE WE GO," screamed Santa, who then stuffed the 
grenade into his mouth and pulled the pin.

        From that tragic day forward, the parents of young children have 
had to spend massive amounts of money on Christmas presents.  All good 
parents curse the name of Santa every time they are forced to fork out 
for a stupid Cabbage Patch doll.
        On a side note, the widowed Mrs. Claus and the seven hundred 
orphaned elves tried to continue life at the North pole.  Unfortunately, 
one day Mrs. Claus wandered off in a snowstorm, never to be seen again.  
The elves tried bravely to continue as before, although after they had 
eaten all the reindeer they were forced to begin feeding on the weak 
among themselves.  They became a group of nomadic barbarians, and 
eventually wandered down to Montana, where they took up residence in a 
large oak tree.  They formed the tribe of Keebler, and produced cookies, 
chips, and snack foods forever after.
******************************************************************************


PS - To any groups this doesn't belong on: blame me, flame me,   
 sor-ry.  The name of the group sounded like the content of
 this story might fit.  Merry Months Away From Christmas!  

--Me!