On Christmas Eve, just as I was about to doze off on that long winter’s night, I heard the sounds of bottles breaking and loud frustrated swearing coming from the downstairs bathroom. Thinking my home was being broken into, or worse, that rats had infested my sanctuary, I reached for my Glock on the nightstand, deposited my protective red MAGA baseball hat on my head and slipped my tired, aching feet into my too-tight slippers. I was ready for anything.
As I crept down the stairs, the safety on the Glock off, I saw a most surprising sight.
“This is the most joyous night of my life!” I cried out in wonder. “It’s true! It’s true! Santa Claus is real!”
There was no mistaking it. The bathroom door was wide open, the overhead light was on and there was Santa Clause rummaging through my medicine cabinet. Scattered on the floor, some in the patch of light there and some in the shadows, were at least a dozen tiny elves. I shook my head. The elves did look like rats, and there was the foul smell of cheap whiskey in the air, but I clearly recognized the rats as Santa’s elves once my vision cleared. The elves were moaning and oddly had their pants off. Three of them had thrown up and were rolling around in their own vomit.
“Santa!” I cried out. “It’s you, it’s really you! I knew you were real! I’ve believed in you when nobody else did. I’m fifty-eight years old, and I never doubted you for all the years of my life! Santa Claus is real!”
A little tipsy and stumbling, Santa managed to turn around toward me, his great white-bearded head rolling around on his neck. He stared with blood-shot eyes toward me, and sneered.
“Yeah, year, so what? Where’s your Viagra?” he asked.
I was not so much shocked by what he said as I was delighted by the red beanie he wore with the letters MAGA across the front.
He was one of us!
“I said, where’s your god-damn Viagra?” Santa asked once more, in a rather hostile tone.
His head rolled around on his neck three times. I took it to be an allusion to the three wise men that had come to visit the baby Jesus with the drugs frankincense and myrrh so many years ago.
“I-I …” the words would not come in the presence of my idol. I was enraptured.
“He said, where is your god-damn Viagra,” one of the more belligerent elves shouted out, jumping to his feet. Unstable, or perhaps tripped up by his pointy shoes, he fell flat on his face. “Ugh. Blug.”
His face was swimming in his own stomach’s noxious eruptions.
Santa stumbled toward me, as uncertain on his feet as his drowning elf. I managed to catch him under his plump armpits as his knees seemed to break beneath him. I held him upright with some difficulty. I never knew Santa Claus could smell like this.
“You’re one of us,” I said in wonder, my eyes directly on the lettering on his beanie. "Cough,cough, cough."
Unfortunately, the Glock went off with a tremendous retort. The bullet immediately shattered the bathroom mirror and ricocheted off into a plump, pimply elf on the floor, killing him instantly.
“What have I done?” I cried out. “I killed a Christmas elf!”
“Oh, don’t worry about that little freak. That’s one of my more MAGA elves, little Lindsey from the Senate. There are plenty more of his kind. Now, where is that Viagra?”
“But I killed him! I killed one of your elves! I can never forgive myself!”
Santa slapped me across the face.
“I told you not to worry about it! He's not worth a ... Time’s a-wastin and I need that Viagra. Me and my elves have slid down the chimneys of millions of homes tonight, and have millions more to slide down. You might not have heard but the President signed an executive order tonight lowering the age of consent to three! Do you know how much more humpin’ and stuffin’ we can do tonight because of it? And what’s better, the Attorney General Pam Bondage has agreed the President’s executive order is legal, and the Supreme Court agreed with her. Epstein, drag that little piece of garbage Lindsey out into the snow where the wolves can eat him.”
“Well, if the president said it, it must be right.”
“Darn tootin’. Say, you have any little girls in the house?”
“Three. One is eight, another is six and the last one, the love of my life, is three. Why do you ask?”
My heart lit up warmly with the thought of them. I loved them so much and now Santa was about to.
“Oh, ah, ah, ah. Just the thought of it,” said Santa, writhing and dancing around in his drawers, flopping around passionately on his feet. “Did you hear that, elves? He has little girls in the house.”
“Yeah! You’re the greatest, MAGA Santa! Little girls! Little girls! Little girls!”
“Now, you, whatever your name is, where is that Viagra? It’s time to Make America Grimace Again.”
A thrill passed through me.
“Well, I keep my Viagra in the second drawer of the vanity. There should be enough for all of you. I know my little girls are dying to see you, MAGA Santa. They love MAGA Santa almost as much as I do. They've been hoping you'd visit tonight.”
I could not believe my good fortune at having this magical creature come to my home on this holiest of nights and desire my girls. I knew now I was saved.
“Epstein, when you’re done dumping Lindsey out in the snow, you and Vancy grab that Viagra and distribute it to everybody, two to an elf. Save the rest for me. The President’s executive order goes into effect right about now and I want to take full advantage of it.”
“Thank the Lord for you, MAGA Santa,” I said, weeping. "I am so blessed."
“You’re welcome, you senseless twit. Now show me where those little girls are. Pam Bondage invited me over later tonight so I can bestow my special gifts on her little girls, too. I wouldn’t want to disappoint her. Pam Bondage is the best.”
I waited out in the hallway as my daughters squealed with delight with the coming of MAGA Santa Claus on this wondrous Christmas Eve.
You never think such a thing could happen to your daughters, but then MAGA Christmas comes along and it does.
