The REAL Santa
So after three straight days of shopping and chauffeuring and spending money, listening to Christmas Carols on the limo radio and waving Myren’s cigar smoke out of my face–for some reason he thinks he can do whatever he wants once he throws on a Santa hat and white gloves–it’s not like he grew a snowy white beard or anything–because that would have bought him substantial creds–I think I’m finally ready. For Christmas.
As long as I can talk Myren–my chauffeur–into helping wrestle the turkey into the roasting pan–because it’s gigantic–I should be all set. Of course there’s lots of gift wrapping and desert making and finishing touches with the decorations still to do–but that’s okay. I have it covered. With Myren’s help. I figure if I hinge to him that there might be some rare Cuban cigars in his stocking he’ll be very helpful. But then that would mean I’d have to run out and actually buy the cigars because I couldn’t very well buy them while he was driving me around and lifting and hauling the gifts into the trunk and from store to store.
So one more trip. Out into the breach on my own. Without Myren. But I’ll listen to his cheesy Christmas Carols while I’m out so I can feel like he’s there.
I’m looking forward to a preposterously wonderful and gigantic Christmas dinner with too many presents to count under the ridiculously bedecked Christmas tree with every family member from miles around gathered together. And Myren too.
Hope your Christmas is a merry one too!