The Comedy Basement
A Visit With Santa Claus
A few days ago, with just a few more sleeps left until Christmas, I met with Santa Claus for the twenty first time in my life.
I could see all the elves/photographers smiling in my direction as I marched on up to Santa’s village at the local shopping mall. They were also laughing, and pointing. They were just so happy to see me back for another visit with Santa. One elfographer (as I have now deemed them) even had to leave the village, he was laughing and pointing so hard. I guess he was so excited he couldn’t control himself any longer.
I waved politely as I entered the village. The elfographers tried to sign me up for an elaborate photo package, but I simply held up a hand and said “no pictures please” – I just wanted to chill with Santa for a bit.
In addition to being twenty two years old, I am also two hundred and fifty seven pounds, so I was a little too big to sit on Santa’s lap. Instead, I planted myself down beside him on a red velvet bench. I was pretty pumped to be sitting beside my idol and just like I had done at every visit since I was three, I used every muscle in my body to keep myself from peeing my pants. Even at an age when some would say you’re too old for Santa Claus, I was still that excited to be meeting the big guy.
Upon meeting with Santa, he laughed at my size. He obviously did not remember me from the last twenty visits. When I asked him if he remembered me, he told me that he did. He was clearly lying because he asked me my name. If he had remembered me, he would not have had to do such a thing. It all seemed quite suspicious.
I cut to the chase and told Santa that the Power Ranger action figure he brought me ten years ago had broke. He said I should have sent it back to the North Pole and that his elves would have delivered me a new one. He looked disturbed when I told him that I hadn’t broken it ten years ago, but just last week while I was playing with it in the tub.
Santa ho-ho-ho’ed himself into new subject. He asked me if I had been a good boy this year. I told him that mostly I had been good, except for my job at the pizza place where I sometimes spit in people’s pizzas. Santa’s jaw dropped when I told him which pizza place it was.
We were beginning to attract quite a crowd, probably because of my size but also because I was wearing a beautiful pink sweater with a picture of a lizard on it. My friend’s grandma had knitted it for me. I wore it pretty much every day and always got a lot of attention for it. Today was no different.
Finally Santa asked me what I had been waiting to hear – what I wanted for Christmas. Despite the numerous letters I had personally hand written for him throughout the year, I always felt most comfortable telling Santa what I wanted, in person. This year, I told him that I wanted a cat. He asked me what I would name the cat. I told him I would name it Wayne, after my hero Wayne Newton. I explained to him how my dog, Chandler Bing, had recently gotten hip surgery, so I needed a new pet with which I could wrestle. Santa asked me if Chandler Bing had gotten the surgery because of a wrestling injury and I told him that it was not because of wrestling, but because I accidentally ran him over with my bike.
That was the end of my visit with Santa. He gave me a candy cane out of his bucket as the elfographers escorted me from the village. I held the candy cane in my mouth like a cigarette and pretended to smoke it as I exited the mall. Another visit with Santa that I will treasure forever. When I get home, I will see about sending back that Power Ranger action figure. Tomorrow is bath night and my Ninja Turtles need to be re-glued, so I could use something else to play with in the tub.
Copyright © The Comedy Basement 2009