Santa's Sex Diary
- Article by Jason Montes
- December 9, 2011
Today at the mall this snot-nosed kid begged me for a Schnauzer this Christmas, and I pinched his greasy cheeks and said, “Of course tiger. I make magic happen. It’s what I do.” This kid was so excited that he gave me a hug. His mother on the other hand was not too pleased with me.
“We can’t get him a puppy,” she said.
I instantly recognized this mother as little Sally Maxwell, but she’s all grown up now and her bag of goodies has filled out nicely. Milk and cookies are great, but it’s really the naughty list mothers who put me in the mood for the season of giving.
“Sit on Santa’s lap. I’ll make everything ok,” I told her. She took a seat and got comfortable on my warm velvet thigh. Ladies love the beard, too; it exudes a sort of primal masculinity that they can’t get enough of. Thank you, No-Shave November!
“Ten years ago you wanted an Easy Bake Oven,” I whispered in her ear. Sally looked at me with surprise.
“I never got it. My mother got me a Barbie sweater instead,” she said and gave me a little pout; her eyes looked away as if trying to hide the hurt.
“Meet me in the Macy’s dressing room in ten minutes and we’ll bake something your mother doesn’t have to know about,” I said.
She nuzzled against the hairs of my chin and giggled. Everybody wants a piece of Old St. Nick, and it’s my job to give them exactly what they deserve. Later that night, we kissed underneath the mistletoe and I didn’t care who watched.
It’s crunch time. I have to travel around the world in 12 hours, the elves aren’t working fast enough, Comet has a massive case of diarrhea, and I swear this crappy sleigh keeps getting smaller and smaller every year. An elf can barely fit in this thing. I don’t understand why I can’t just fly first class on jetBlue. Remember that one stewardess with the freaky tongue tricks, Diary? I gave her lace stockings as a gift, and in return she granted me membership to the mile high club. Her thighs made great earmuffs, and I couldn’t help but fill that plane with a big “HO HO HO!”
When Christmas is all over I’m going straight to Cancun for eleven months, but first I need to deal with the reindeer. Every year Rudolph gives the other reindeer a snort of white snow and I’m the one who has to pick up the shit. The real reason nobody wanted to play with Red Nose before I offered him a job was because he was known around the North Pole as a beggar who would do anything for a quick high. Now Blitzen is blitzed off his ass and Dasher just ran double-time off the roof.
Nobody understands my kind of suffering, Diary. The entire world expects me to be a jolly role model. I need a friend right now or a drink. I’m flying over an orphanage in Seattle now, but those kids don’t leave me anything so I skip them and land on over to the next house. This is the house of Stanley Jacobs. His parents drive tricked out Bentleys and are so rich that they installed a TV in every shower.
Instead of milk and cookies over the fireplace there is a tall wine glass filled with cognac and brownies sprinkled with fairy dust. Wealthy people understand what Santa likes which is why their kids get all the good presents. I leave a hovercraft underneath the Christmas tree for Stanley and take my drink and brownies to their indoor jacuzzi. I still have a 1000 more houses to go, but I need a timeout. Time to think and reflect on the deeper things happening here. Am I just a fabrication of commercial enterprise? Does anyone really even care about me? Do I really exist? The water is as a warm as the inside of my brownie. Is this water real? Am I really Santa at all, or am I just a pathetic drunk trespassing in a rich man’s home?
New Year’s Resolution: convince the Missus to agree to reindeer-style.
What a wild Spring Break! My bud Frosty the Snowman and I have been trading tequila pints all weekend. He melted last night in a jacuzzi full of pageant beauty queens. It was magnificent. In hindsight it wasn’t the smartest decision for Frosty to come to Cancun, but that beast is a champ! A mark of a true alcoholic is having the will to die for the cause, and with global warming drowning all of his polar bear friends Frosty wasn’t sure he was going to live much longer anyway. I was so bummed after his passing that I went to a donkey show in his honor. He hates to see people cry and would have wanted it like this. I still can’t believe those things are legal.
Unfortunately, I can’t remember anything that happened after the show, but I did make it back to the hotel.
This morning I woke up and found a random bronze girl with thick hips sleeping in my red coat. What the hell is this orange and blue bra doing in the corner? This bitch better not be a Gator.