My tale starts as any other tale does (at the beginning) with teal Saturday, the day after black Friday. I was on a quest to begin the Christmas experience, and I was going to do it in style. (I do everything in style, I'm a stylish fellow) I began my adventure in the car, driving from store to store cause it is too damn cold to walk around in Minnesota during the winter. With my ABBA CD playing, I consulted my navigator Spike. He may be a cat, but he can mapquest the HELL out of anything, plus he really loves ABBA. First stop on our trip was Micheals, not as good as Hobby Lobby (I still have my hobby lobby vest from when they employed me to occupy space) but it would have to do. Upon entering the craft store, I was immediately accosted by several so called "greeters" asking me if I needed assistance. Fearing for my life, I did what any champion of freedom who loves life would do. I scissor kicked the underpaid high school teenager right in her face. Knowing I'd probably be in trouble with old Johnny Law, I decided to quickly make my way through the various aisles in the store. Naturally, I felt uneasy in a store full of crafts. Especially near anything with glitter, it is the herpes of the craft world you know. But I didn't have time to worry about such things, I was on a mission to get gifts (and to avoid the police) Having secured several gifts, aswell as a delightful nutcracker figurine, I made my way to the register. Shockingly enough the cashiers up front were in a very giving mood and told me to just take the items and go. The holiday spirit really does spread this time of year (much like syphilis during valentines day)
Hearing the sirens coming fast, I cranked up the car stereo. Spike and I decided it was time for Enya as we made our way to the next shopping experience. Best Buy's parking lot was considerably more packed than that of Micheals, which meant one thing, lack of parking spaces. So after a few minutes of circling the parking lot, I found a spot and made my way inside. Seeing one of the usual guys who stands at the front (they know not to greet me anymore) I made my way through the electornics store looking at all the swanky stuff. I wandered from section to setion. Starting in music before moving to movies and evenutally entering games where I would spend the next hour. Upon arriving there, I noticed a crowd gathered around four people playing Rock Band. When the drummer was suddenly afflicted by a drum stick stabbed through their hand, it seemed that the musical experience was at an end. But fortunately for all, I was there and ready to take charge as drummer. Armed with one good drum stick and the other half of the stick impaled in the previous drummer, I began rocking. Channeling the energy of drummers like Dave Ghrol, Don Henley, and Animal from the muppets, I went to town on those rubber drum heads. Realizing that I had promised to take Spike Borders so he can shop for books, I quickly made my way to the front of store, using the plastic drum set as a cattle guard to part the crowd ahead of me.
Safely in my car, I decided to let Spike drive, but after twenty minutes of sitting in a motionless car, I remembered that he's a cat (his legs are too short to reach the peddals) Having shifted seats we made our way to Borders so spike could do his shopping. Making sure he had his hat on, Spike ran inside leaving me to listen to the radio. (I promised him I wouldn't listen to any AC/DC without him, he's a big fan) Apparently a lot of stations play Christmas music this time of year, something that doesn't inspire fuzzy feelings in me. I blame my mom, she tends to sing Christmas songs year round (I love you mom...but you should stick to playing MY french horn) One thing led to another and and I found myself quickly leaving that hospital. (Yeah, see how vague that phrase can be?)
For the last stop on my gift acquiring quest, I decided to go to the place where I can get a discount. That's right, I went to where I work. Now, due to the fact that I would like to keep my job for the time being, I won't say where I work so that if I ever say or reveal something about them here combined with the really unlikely event that they read my blog, I won't be fired. So we'll say I work for Wal Mart (I work for Target) Now then, my initial reaction when going into Wal Mart (Target) is to hide behind displays so that customers don't see me. But realizing that I was in street clothes and not on the clock, I quickly subdued any feelings of fear of customer interaction. Wandering from aisle to aisle I periodically nodded or spoke to various fellow "team members" who didn't have the good fortune to be off the clock like me. Finally getting the last of the gifts, and having re-arranged every aisle I could (gotta make sure salesfloor folk have something to do) I made my way to the check lanes so I could make my financial trasaction. Having rung up my items, the seasonal (gonna be fired in Januaury) team member made the grave mistake of asking me "Would you like a gift receipt with that?" Blinded by pure rage, I lept over the counter and pistol whipped the hapless girl, whose driver's liscenced tells me she was the sister of the greeter who harassed me at Micheals. I hate gift receipts and never get them. If I find someone a gift, they are stuckwith it, no returns. (I even pee on them to ensure goodwill won't even take it)
Having finally completed my shopping fun, it was time to devote a good portion of my night to wrapping those items. And when I wasn't watching one of my favorite Christmas movies (especially While You Were Sleeping) I did my best battling the accursed creation known as wrapping paper. Estimating the correct size of paper for each package is a chore in itself. Combine that with my general impatient nature, and you have yourself a war zone of crumpled paper and tears. But by the time Peter finally awakens from his coma (seriously, go watch While You Were Sleeping) I had wrapped my gifts like a master gift wrapper of sorts.
Fast forward a few weeks and a few dead elves later and we come to Christmas Eve. Now in years past I generally sleep on Christmas Eve. (Except last year cause I was working for Wal Mart[Target]) But due to my work arrangments, I'm up all night, which results in me knowing if anything happens in the middle of the night. And tonight (about 6 hours ago now) I caught someone breaking into the house. My first instinct was to kill the intruder and burn the body. But I had to ask myself "What would Steve McQueen do?" The obvious answer is leave evidence that the neighbors killed the intruder. But then I thought to myself, what if its EC or Michelle, they know where I live and know I won't kill them if they decide to drop by for a visit. (Funk I'd gut you like a fish) So I decided to let things play out. And much to my surprise what appeared to be a ninja tinkering at the base of my Christmas tree. Now while this would seem odd for most people, this kinda thing is quite normal for me. (I once battled Richard Simmons in a similar occurance) So I promptly introduced the masked tree aggitator to my two lady friends, Princess Mary and Dutches Larou. (my right fist is named Princess Mary, the left is Larou) Much to my surprise he pulled a sword on me. As it turns out, it was Santa Clause and not some crazy ninja out to kill me. (Just a merry one from the north pole) So I decided to talk with him as he put stuff under my tree. Here is our conversation along with a picture I snapped of the man.
Me: So you're really santa?
Santa: Uh..yeah...why else would I do so much breaking and entry and LEAVE presents for people?
M: Good point....so I gotta ask...whats with the ninja-esque apparel, arent you supposed to be like...fat and old....and more...cuddly?
S: Yeah well, do you really think a Santa who looks like he might assassinate you makes for very good bed time stories or movies? My PR rep decided it was better to have a "jolly ol fat guy" as the Santa image.
M: Yes, yes....should I be alarmed that you are armed with a sword?
S: Yes.
M: Alarmed in what way?
S: What the hell kind of question is that...its a sword...its used to stab and cut things...where are you from anyhow?
M: Kansas.
S: Ah, explains much. I carry a sword because its how I really deal with naughty children, none of that coal shit.
M: It's because coal is rather expensive now isn't it? Not even you can escape the dying economy.
S: What the hell...no....I'm a ninja...that's how we deal with corrupt people.
M: So you are officially a ninja?
S: Who else could get into so many houses around the world, so fast, unnoticed? Definitely not a pirate.
M: Those silly drunk bastards...so do any of them get gifts for being good?
S: Nope all are judged guilty right off the bat.
M: You truly are a good man.
S: It's how I became a Saint. Anywho, I need to get going, I have a few million houses to get to.
M: I assume your sleigh is outside?
S: Hell no, I gave that thing up decades ago. I drive a 2008 Mustang GT. Traded in my 8 tiny reindeer for over 500 horsepower.
M: Makes sense to me. Also, I would like to give you a gift. Please take this cat.
S: No one has ever given me a gift...I will cherish it for all time. You truly are the noblest of all people. Merry Christmas.
M: Godspeed Santa!
And there you lovely folk have it. My Christmas tale. I hope you people were deeply moved by it, and if you weren't, than you are obviously Godless monsters who hate all that is good in this world.
Merry Christmas Everybody.
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