As you are now well aware I am a spectacular journalist. So rather than spend Christmas Day enjoying myself I am here for you, Steves people. Work has been a complete bitch, as it usually is this time of year, so I have had very little time to myself. I thought that I could relax and do nothing on Christmas day but last night I saw something that made me physically ill.
I began my usual Christmas routine by grabbing the ladder and leaning it against the side of the house. I loaded my shotgun as I climbed the ladder and my thoughts drifted to tomorrows dinner. Once on the roof I cocked the gun and climbed into an area I have dug out from the chimney shaft. This year, finally, I was going to successfully rob Santa Claus. I have had a few close shaves over the years…well I think so. I always end up getting violently drunk and then passing out. Not this year though, this was the year.
After hours of waiting for his fat ass to climb down the chimney I gave up and began my decent down into the living room. It sucked. I had the perfect line to use. “Check this twice, Bitch!” I was nearly at the bottom of the chimney when I heard laughter in the room. It was my parents sitting on the couch wrapping presents and laughing. It seemed innocent enough at the time but that laughter had an evil undercurrent.
A Hot Wheels race track, a toy T-Rex and Premier League stickers, these are what I asked Santa to bring me for Christmas. What were my parents doing wrapping my presents? How did they get them from Santa because he had not arrived yet! If he had arrived he would have been promptly robbed on the roof. Unless? That’s right! Our Parents are pretending that Santa Claus exists and then buying the gifts for us! Just take a minute to digest this news.
I didn’t even have time to swallow the vomit in my mouth before I passed out from the shock and landed head first on the grates of the fireplace…which actually woke me up. My parents rushed to my aid but I refused their help. With tears in my eyes I disowned them and called them every name under the sun. I packed my bags and stormed out of the house. I know you are hurt and let down by this news, I’m sure you always thought your parents were wonderful people and I’m sorry I have changed that but you need to know that your parents are disgusting liars. So put down that Barbie or Action Man, go downstairs and punch your parents right in their disgusting deceitful faces. Merry Christmas indeed.
I just ripped the lid off of it,