It weren’t me, Sir. Pinky swear!
by TETIANA ALEKSINA & TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2021
Dear Readers,
It seems that our belief in Santa is fading away…
We put our all into the poem we dedicated to him. We did our absolute best. We also behaved. Tony hasn’t picked his nose for a whole year, and Tati hasn’t… well, let’s not get into that here.
The point is, we went all out for this overweight ho-ho deer torturer! What a sack of crap!
Seriously, what did we get in return?
An auto-reply from someone that even our mailbox can’t bring itself to believe in. An ‘unverified sender’ no less! Hm… Perhaps we need to take the hint?
But no. Hell, no! This shall not mean that our belief in miracles is fading away. We are soppy romantics, god damn it! And no corpulent, bearded no-show is going to take that from us.
That’s why Tati—in her icy cold homeland of Ukraine—finds a bottle opener made from kangaroo balls in her Christmas sock. And Tony—in his blisteringly hot homeland of Australia—finds in his sock a tiny bottle of horilka and a half eaten salo burger. Because someone has to do this job, even if Santa fails.
Someone has to protect our belief in miracles.
by TETIANA ALEKSINA, TONY SINGLE & SONOFDEWANGAN
© All rights reserved 2020
Hey-ho!
This went a lot quicker than we expected… like a sleigh out of hell that careened across the sky in flames. Even baby Jesus himself is reeling!
Our Dearest Readers, because we didn’t receive any contributions for our last installment of Open Source Poetry, we feel it’s time to finish it. Yes, you have spoken and we have listened.
We have fashioned an ending of sorts and—as promised—we’ve mailed it to Santa. We’re dying to see his response…
by TETIANA ALEKSINA, TONY SINGLE & SONOFDEWANGAN
© All rights reserved 2020
Dear Readers, have you ever visited SantaCon? It’s a magical combination of binge drinking, public urination and trauma to small children that everyone should experience at least once in their life. Why? Because it’s a reminder that no matter how bad things can get, there’s always something worse around the corner. We went once and were scared into leading fulfilled and happy lives from that point on!
We seriously have to wonder if SantaCon was invented by people who didn’t get any Christmas gifts right throughout their childhoods. It’s clear that they want adults to indulge the child within, rather than their actual children. And this would be a laudable goal if they weren’t puking all over one another in naked glitter-filled orgies. Is this their revenge on poor old Santa? It could be. Just read their rules:
Can I bring my kids?
Probably not. Kids get the rest of Christmas and all the other holidays. SantaCon is normally adults only.
Can I get smashed?
Sure. But if this is what you want to do, we ask that you stay home and don’t dress like Santa. Definitely don’t show up at a SantaCon.
Well, Dear Readers, let’s make it clear that we have no desire to cosplay Jung and Freud here. We’re merely trying to understand what exactly it is that motivates certain people to dream of being Santa whilst simultaneously wanting to kick the shit out of him. And although we might not understand this, we must concede that everyone has the right to go crazy in whatever fashion they choose. Crazy, after all, can be a lot of fun!
By the way, about the fun… It was great fun to read your submissions! There were a lot of terrific new lines that might have suited our communal letter poem thingy to Santa really well, and as such we felt our minds gradually slipping to the brink of cray cray in a way that was only mildly alarming. However, we eventually settled on SonOfDewangan’s submission because we felt it straddled that uncomfortable line of fun and crazy quite well. Congratulations, sir, you’re a psychotic fun wizard! Here’s how it looks:
Dear Mr Santypoos, how do you do?
Hope you don’t have COVID and the deer are healthy too.
Hope Rudolph’s nose still is bright red.
Time to wake them elves up from their bed,
but please do it so it’s real gentle like
or they’ll sue you without so much as a first strike.
(Oh, by the way! SonOfDewangan, we edited your lines a wee bit for the sake of the poem’s overall flow, so please don’t sue us! Everything is for the sake of poetry and getting nice gifts!)
So, Dear Readers, let’s keep this Santa friendly and socially responsible letter poem thingy going. We promise that neither you nor your kids will get smashed, even should you choose to dress like a drunken Santa, his red nosed, allergy-ridden reindeer, or even his outrageously big bosomed wife with the tinkly bell nipple piercings. All you need do is follow these simple festive steps:
1) Close your eyes and recall your deepest wish.
2) Open your eyes, read the above lines of our poem in progress then submit one or two more lines of your own.
3) We pick the lines we like most, add them to the poem and then write more.
4) When the letter is done, we seal it, put all your names in the envelope, and send it to Santa with the next sled dog team that’s willing to chance harsh border lockdowns and Covid security measures.
By the way, as of this posting there are only 68 shopping days left until Christmas, so let’s crack that whip over those reindeer tushies!
by TETIANA ALEKSINA, TONY SINGLE & SONOFDEWANGAN
© All rights reserved 2020