(An email sent on the 26th of December 2006)
So another Xmas has come and gone. I have many traditions for Xmas. More honestly, I have very few. My one tradition of attempting to capture Santa Claus has, yet again, gone awry.
I came to the conclusion, that for some reason, everyone just accepts the fact that there's this old fat guy and he is the personification of Xmas. More than that, he is allowed the run of the house on the faith that he's going to leave wrapped stuff under your pimped out tree; and the wrapped stuff he leaves, do not contain bombs.
I, being cynical, found this hard to believe (some people choose not to believe in Santa Claus altogether).
So after some hard thinking, I realised, beyond the reason of saving the world, that there was potential in catching Santa. I mean think about it - if I caught Santa, I'd make millions. In marketing alone - the real Santa Claus - Coca Cola for one would pay for my new teeth. Then I could open Santaland where it would be Xmas all year around. Then of course Euro-Santaland and Santaland-Paris.
I could start my own television channel. I’d call it, as far as my creativity has gone so far, the Santa channel. It would show live web cams of Santa twenty four seven.
Considering the fact that the old bastard does nothing for the rest of the year anyway, I figured I could rent him out as a baby sitter or force him to deliver pizza or be a mailman or something. Also the added benefit of having Santa would be that I could figure out what drugs he's taking and where he's keeping the stash. No one is so happy that they actually list being jolly as one of his character traits, considering he’s dealing with children.
Speaking of children, maybe getting a dirty old man who is only interested in children off the streets would be my way of doing my bit for the world. I mean, he gives all the good children presents...what does he do with the children on the 'naughty' list (with a twinkle in his eye)?
So every year, I put into action some plan to capture Santa Claus and finally get some good worth out of him.
My first attempt, back in the days, was simple - the man likes milk and cookies - so I poisoned the milk and cookies (of course being of Indian heritage, this was actually jellebi and tap water). The bastard did not fall for it and the next morning I found my beloved pet chicken (who I had named Cat) dead.
You might be wondering why I named my pet chicken, 'Cat'...well I was the only person on my block who could claim that my cat laid eggs (I sold them for 50 bucks a dozen)).
I spent most of the early 90s training a dog to hate Santa and in '95 I left Fang in wait (he was now shredding pictures of Santa and CNA adverts to shreds). I awoke the next morning to find a letter from Fang saying that he had seen the error of his ways and not to look for him and he preferred to be remembered by the name Puddles instead of Fang.
The list did go on.
This year I went back to basics. I put a bear trap in the chimney and in the belief that he would see through my plan and use the front door, I replaced the doorknob with an exposed nail and put glue on the doormat.
However, it being the 26th and I still don’t have any fat men in my care, it is obvious my plan has failed.
So here's to merry bloody Xmas. And to Santa Claus (a worthy adversary (I hope his reindeer eat him)).
I'll get him next year.
Kamal
P.S. Anyone visiting me, come around the back.
P.P.S If you're reading this Santa, I'm gonna get ya, I'm gonna get ya good!!!!
Hey
So another Xmas has come and gone. I have many traditions for Xmas. More honestly, I have very few. My one tradition of attempting to capture Santa Claus has, yet again, gone awry.
I came to the conclusion, that for some reason, everyone just accepts the fact that there's this old fat guy and he is the personification of Xmas. More than that, he is allowed the run of the house on the faith that he's going to leave wrapped stuff under your pimped out tree; and the wrapped stuff he leaves, do not contain bombs.
I, being cynical, found this hard to believe (some people choose not to believe in Santa Claus altogether).
So after some hard thinking, I realised, beyond the reason of saving the world, that there was potential in catching Santa. I mean think about it - if I caught Santa, I'd make millions. In marketing alone - the real Santa Claus - Coca Cola for one would pay for my new teeth. Then I could open Santaland where it would be Xmas all year around. Then of course Euro-Santaland and Santaland-Paris.
I could start my own television channel. I’d call it, as far as my creativity has gone so far, the Santa channel. It would show live web cams of Santa twenty four seven.
Considering the fact that the old bastard does nothing for the rest of the year anyway, I figured I could rent him out as a baby sitter or force him to deliver pizza or be a mailman or something. Also the added benefit of having Santa would be that I could figure out what drugs he's taking and where he's keeping the stash. No one is so happy that they actually list being jolly as one of his character traits, considering he’s dealing with children.
Speaking of children, maybe getting a dirty old man who is only interested in children off the streets would be my way of doing my bit for the world. I mean, he gives all the good children presents...what does he do with the children on the 'naughty' list (with a twinkle in his eye)?
So every year, I put into action some plan to capture Santa Claus and finally get some good worth out of him.
My first attempt, back in the days, was simple - the man likes milk and cookies - so I poisoned the milk and cookies (of course being of Indian heritage, this was actually jellebi and tap water). The bastard did not fall for it and the next morning I found my beloved pet chicken (who I had named Cat) dead.
You might be wondering why I named my pet chicken, 'Cat'...well I was the only person on my block who could claim that my cat laid eggs (I sold them for 50 bucks a dozen)).
I spent most of the early 90s training a dog to hate Santa and in '95 I left Fang in wait (he was now shredding pictures of Santa and CNA adverts to shreds). I awoke the next morning to find a letter from Fang saying that he had seen the error of his ways and not to look for him and he preferred to be remembered by the name Puddles instead of Fang.
The list did go on.
This year I went back to basics. I put a bear trap in the chimney and in the belief that he would see through my plan and use the front door, I replaced the doorknob with an exposed nail and put glue on the doormat.
However, it being the 26th and I still don’t have any fat men in my care, it is obvious my plan has failed.
So here's to merry bloody Xmas. And to Santa Claus (a worthy adversary (I hope his reindeer eat him)).
I'll get him next year.
Kamal
P.S. Anyone visiting me, come around the back.
P.P.S If you're reading this Santa, I'm gonna get ya, I'm gonna get ya good!!!!
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