Xmastime

Dear jingling bells, why don’t you jingle all the way back to Kansas. Let’s go out and build a snowman — we can mold him out of clay. Oh, what fun this is. Would you like to see my Christmas tree? Here’s gifts for all: one for her & for him & for you & for it. I’ll take one for myself as well. I can’t wait to tear open these presents and then smoke my cherry-blend tobacco. 

Look up in the sky. Is that Santa Claus? I think he’s winking at me. I’ve been very naughty; so, in theory, I shouldn’t be given any blessings this year. (That’s why I’m using my cape to hide the gift, which I took from the tree in the scene above.) Ah, it looks like Santa’s sled is flying away. The reindeer sure are stepping swiftly on the air. I wonder how they do that. Good traction on those hooves. “May your year be free from ticks!” I yell. I really hope they understood me, despite my strange accent. 

Every year, we sit down by the fire and eat some fudge. Also, Xmas cookies are something for which the heathen rage. I love Christmas, because its true meaning is the eating of dumplings, eggs and cider, plus cherry-nog applesauce. Are you ready to kiss the mistletoe with beans and butter?