Dad Kicked Santa's Ass!

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Humor  |  House: Booksie Classic
Golden memories!

Submitted: December 20, 2018

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Submitted: December 20, 2018

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Let me tell you a story, of too much Christmas cheer,

of foolhardy bravery, macho bullshit, and five too many beers

 

“Come on, kids, let's walk over and see Santa at the mall!'

“No, that's okay, Dad,” for we didn't want to see his stumble and fall.

 

Mom quickly said, “Honey, you're in no condition to go,”

for she didn't want to see “The Inibro-Dad Show!”

 

See, he'd been snorkling since the well before the sun went down.

And we didn't want to hear derision and laughter all over town.

 

“Bullshit, kids, and Wife” he slurred in all of our general direction,

“I want you to have the experience I enjoyed,” and the inflection

 

in his voice told us he wouldn't take 'no,' for an answer.

So we agreed and watched him look like an inebriated dancer,

 

stumbling down the street and into Central Mall,

lucky to make it before Dad took a major fall.

 

We somehow managed to find Santa's chair,

but there was no sign of Santa, anywhere.

 

“I wonder where the fat f*** is?” slurred my Dad,

“Honey, the children!” My mother was so mad.

 

“Well, I bring my boys here to meet him, and the bastard's gone!”

“Wayne!,” said Mom. We waited, and waited, “This is so wrong!”

 

my pissed Dad slurred, just as Santa come up, smelling of smoke.

Dad's face got even more red, 'You're a fat f*****g joke!”

 

he screamed at the guy. “Oh yeah? Well, take your little brats

and get out of my face!” screamed Santa. “That's

 

the abuse I have to put up with from ungrateful dicks!” he said to

another man who'd brought his kids up to see him. 'Just who

 

do you think you a--,” he never finishes the sentence, 'cause

Dad sent a roundhouse punch right into the face of Claus,

 

whose head recoiled off the edge of the stage

on his way to the floor. Twisted with rage,

 

the face of my father morphed into a triumphant sneer,

fueled no doubt, by adrenaline and too many beers.

 

My Mom cried out, “Wayne, what have you done?”

It was then we heard approaching sirens, 'Run!”

 

yelled my Dad, and so we did, Mom bitching him out

while we we running. Then Dad, “How in the hell did they know about

 

me kicking Santa's ass so fast?” Later, we'd learn that their station

was right next door. “Wayne, you need to control you frustrations!”

 

But Dad didn't hear, he was heaving into the weeds

next to the sidewalk where we we running, little beads

 

of perspiration ran down his flushed, angry face,

as we finished our escape home at a much slower pace.

 

That year is legend now, as the year Dad puked in the grass

soon after he got done kicking Santa's department store ass!

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


© Copyright 2020 Mike S.. All rights reserved.

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