Father Christmas tends to have many personalities, especially when he leaves the North Pole and heads to the modern world. For whatever reason, St. Nick still hasn’t acclimated to society and has trouble fitting in. Other times, however, you can’t knock him for expressing himself. He surfs, he models, he flashes strangers on the streets of major cities…just you wait and see. He’ll tell you all about it!
This young gentleman and I hit it off last week at his swim meet. The color of his speedo caught my eye. The next thing I know, we’re hanging out at an after-hours jazz bar where he’s serenading my fleet: the reindeer, a couple elves, and me. He wanted a picture with Big Poppa Claus and you know I can’t turn down a lap-photo. We’re pen pals to this day.
With the smell of motor oil and burning rubber, I spent the better part of 2017 biking down the freeways of the world with a slew of gangs. Each group of hoodlums contributed to what was once just a sleeve, but it has now taken over my entire body (even under the red knickers). Along the way, the peeps I was riding with adopted many names including, Dirty Kris and the Tijuana Brass, Nick Norris and the Nitwits, Santa and his Satanic Soldiers, Big Claws and the Knuckle Brothers….the list goes on and on, man.
Never heard I was a flashy guy? Ho Ho Ho! Scared the sh** out of some pedestrians the other day, but can you blame me? Santa likes to get up to some debauchery every once in a while. I’ve got mad free time yo. Honestly, the only thing I remember is yelling, “Take a look at my jingle balls!”
Hey der, ya’ll! I got stuck down in ‘Bama last month and was introduced to hunting. Pretty messed up if ya ask me, but some good ole boys went open season on my crew so I stole an ATV and tried to pay some tribute to the furry fellas. Wasn’t my best moment, but the warm weather weren’t too bad. Now I’ve got this crazy accent and I’m almost outta fuel…
Sup brahhh! Just soaking up some sun, catchin’ some rays down here in San Dieeego. The peeps are nice, and I’m workin’ on a pretty serious tan. As my main man Spicoli says, “All I need are some tasty waves, a cool buzz and I’m fine.” Radical!
Rough night. Ole’ Santy had a few too many lime ricky’s and decided to steer the sleigh back to the Mrs. I think Blitzen tried to talk me out of it, but I’m the boss. Anyways, we didn’t make it past Pittsburgh when we hit a flock of geese in the night. RIP me.
Ya lose a few pounds and trim the ole’ beard and what do ya know? Canadian fashion moguls are pulling me off the street, dressing me up and down in these funky clothes, and now I’m an icon. “Canada’s sexiest Santa,” they say. Not gonna lie, Mrs. Claus has been quite receptive to the new look.