End Kwote

After it's all said and done, life's just a bunch of kwotes

“I’m a ho ho ho!”

Tis Christmas eve, and all through the house, we’re running around like crack heads, waiting for Santa Claus (pronounced “Klouse.”)

I was wrapping some presents, listening to Christmas songs, when I heard one about Santa, and I thought, “That’s gotta be wrong.”

My ears were not wrong, they were anything but, so I came to the conclusion, that Santa’s a great big slut.

I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus

The song you see above is the very diddy that I speak of. I’ve heard it before, many times throughout the holiday seasons, but it’s disgustingness didn’t register until just recently. I’m appalled, Claus, appalled.

If you’ve never heard the song before, the lyrics are just below.

I saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus
Underneath the mistletoe last night.
She didn’t see me creep
Down the stairs to have a peek
She thought I was tucked
Up in my bedroom fast asleep.

Then I saw mommy tickle Santa Claus
Underneath his beard so snowy white;
Oh, what a laugh it would have been
If Daddy had only seen
Mommy kissing Santa Claus last night.

Mommy was obviously downstairs setting out some cookies and milk for old Saint Slut Nick. She was doing what she does every Christmas, minding her own business and setting out some treats.

But what’s this? Santa’s arrived. He hops off his sleigh and slides down the chimney to deliver some presents and ransack the Mommy’s lovely home.

While unpacking some packages, Santa sees Mommy, back turned, standing under the mistletoe. He thought to himself…

“I’m goin’ get me some.”

So Santa, filled with lust and unsatisfied with the aging Mrs. Claus, takes advantage of poor, little, Mommy. He sneaks up behind her while she’s under the mistletoe, taps her on the shoulder, and, before she could resist, grips her by the back of the neck and plants a sloppy, drool-laden kiss right on her lips.

Then, after a brief scuffle, Mommy gives Mr. Kringle a healthy uppercut right under his beard. Claus, knowing that his fun has come to an end, scrambles up the chimney, whips his helpless, enslaved reindeer, and rides off into the snowy night.

Don’t believe me? It’s right in the lyrics, just there. Take a closer look and I’m sure you’ll see. It requires some close analysis and careful observation, but I assure you that’s what happened.

So, where do I begin?

First, Santa, you’ve ruined your marriage which has been in place for like, a gazillion years. Mrs. Claus married you despite your smelly beard and your 600 pound frame. I’d say she settled.

And I can’t imagine she was too pleased when this song was released. But, I’ll bet you’ve been taking the lady elves out back quite some time, so maybe it wasn’t a huge surprise. Still, news like that has gotta be tough to take.

I’m sure Mrs. Claus is sleeping in another room after this little incident. She probably can’t even stand the sight of you. Now, you spend your nights sobbing over a TV dinner, watching Jeopardy re-runs and repeatedly blubbering the phrase, “What about my needs?!?” You’re quite the role model, fat man.

Second, you’ve abused a helpless Mommy. With your enormous, tubby stature, there’s no way, even if she tried, that she could have halted your sneak attack. You’re lucky that Daddy didn’t come downstairs. If he did, you’d have been delivering presents with a severe limp and internal bleeding.

Hell, if I would have seen you ravaging my mother I would have kicked you in the nether region and smashed a glass of milk right on your ancient noggin. It’s wrong to abuse women, Claus. This is something men generally know after being alive for about 10 years.

Third, you could have torn apart this family forever. Let’s say Daddy does come downstairs, or maybe the small child observing this horrific scene tells Daddy. Daddy, married to Mommy for many years, gets jealous, yells at Mommy, and they get into a big fight.

Mommy says that Daddy doesn’t appreciate her and that he never buys her nice things, Daddy goes on about how he works double-shifts just to come home to an obese perv making out with his wife, Daddy leaves the house screaming something about how he hasn’t eaten a decent meal in six weeks, Mommy goes in the kitchen, starts smoking a cigarette and mutters, “I’m too old for this shit,” the kid starts crying uncontrollably, and Christmas is ruined. I’ve seen it a hundred times…

You see? Santa the strumpet has been fooling all of us for years. He’s been taking advantage of Mommies everywhere for all this time. He’s only got one thing on this mind, and it’s not delivering toys to all the boys and girls.

So, Santa, I hope you’re happy. I can’t say I’m entirely surprised, considering you’re basically mystical peeping-tom. Nonetheless, I’m still ashamed. I only hope that you’ve learned your lesson, and that you’ll keep your grubby, fat-boy hands off all the other Mommies.

And to think that small children all over the world worship this blubbery bastard…

Ohh and if I you try to touch my Mommy, know that I have a ruthless guard dog watching the house. Kiss my mother, and you won’t shove another Christmas cookie down your extra-large gullet ever again.

I’m watching you, Claus

And so is my ruthless dog…

"Touch my Mommy, Claus, and I'll bite you on your south pole."

“Touch my Mommy, Claus, and I’ll bite you on your south pole.”

End Kwote

2 thoughts on “Santa’s a Slut

  1. The Cutter says:

    I think it’s assumed that at some point during his yearly journey, Santas gonna get some nookie. I bet Mrs. Claus doesn’t like it, she probably has just grown to accept it

    1. End Kwote says:

      She probably drinks her sorrows away with rum-spiked eggnog while sing-slurring Christmas carols. At least that’s what I would do…

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