It is I, Miss Cuddlywumps, reporting from our local shopping emporium. I am currently sitting on the lap of a middle-aged man purporting to be a jolly old elf who delivers gifts to all the world’s good little children and creatures on Christmas Eve. This man’s claim is—and here I am quoting a phrase often uttered by She of Little Talent—a load of hooey.
True, he is garbed in the usual style of red suit and hat, he has the black boots and the beard. This, though, clearly is not the lap of an overgrown elf who consumes millions of cookies one night each year. I believe this so-called “Santa” to be a fraud. He is most likely a mathematician on a diet. I shall now present my evidence:
- His thighs are thin.
- His belly is padded with some sort of stuffing, probably the same synthetic fiber his beard is made of.
- His main “helper elf” is six feet tall and sports a serious five o’clock shadow. Also, I am nearly certain it is not hot cocoa the elf keeps sipping from that pocket flask.
Those were the initial clues, but the final piece of the puzzle was when I asked “Santa” to bring me a fancy cat tree and a south-facing window to put it in, also a new Kia car and a driver to take me places, please. And he said, “Anything you want, good little kitty. Ho, ho, ho!”
Even She of Little Talent knows that is wrong. Old SoLT may not be talented, but she is not stupid. She knows I don't want a cat tree or a Kia. I will settle for nothing less than a Lexus RX 350, in white. Oh, and I'd really like for poor old SoLT to finally get some talent. Santa--the real one--can just slip that into her Christmas stocking. Please.
On Miss C's Christmas list, in case you're doing any
last-minute car shopping. She prefers the 2016
Photo by OSX.
Public domain, via Wikimedia Commons.