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#1 (permalink) |
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Class Clown
Join Date: Feb 2003
Location: Winnipeg, Canada
Posts: 9,243
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It just happened to be a dreadful day to be Santa Claus.
It started out with the old gent waking up with a excruciatingly painful sinus headache. On another day, he might just have dosed himself with Extra Strength Tylenol, rolled over, and gone back to sleep. But with Christmas Eve just a few days away, there was just no option. He couldn’t afford to give himself the day off. Because of the labour difficulties and manufacturing bottlenecks he had been forced to deal with over the last few months, the North Pole toy manufacturing facilities were running way behind their production targets. For the first time in history, Saint Nick was faced with the very real possibility of having to actually miss a few countries in his annual rounds. These were not happy days for the old elf. Climbing out of bed, he discovered his slippers had been shredded by the dog. When he went to the closet, he found no clean work clothes to wear. His tooth brush broke as he attempted to clean his teeth. When he went to the kitchen for his breakfast, he found a note from his wife proclaiming that she was tired of being treated as a servant in those hectic days leading up to Christmas, and from now on he could get his own meals, until he learned to appreciate her. By this time, Santa had already undergone about enough annoyance and frustration for one day. He glanced out the window as he crossed to the toaster, only to see a picket line of elves in front of the toy shop. Their signs declared that they were on strike for higher wages and shorter hours. Sighing, he headed toward the demonstrators to deal with this latest situation. As he crossed the yard, he found the doors to the reindeer stable ajar, and all the stalls empty. A note had been left by a protest group explaining that they had released their animal brothers from bondage. Things were just not going his way. He was mumbling and grumbling to himself as he made his way towards the striker’s picket line, when one of the young angels approached him carrying a small pine tree swung over his shoulder. “Santa, what do you want me to do with this tree?” he inquired. And now you know how the tradition started of putting an angel on top of the Christmas tree.
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![]() Life's journey is not to arrive at the grave safely in a pristine, well-preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, totally used up and worn out, shouting "Holy Shit...what a ride!!" |
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