Fiction/Non-Fiction/Benaroya Hall/Santa Claus
DopeBeastie
Posts: 2,513
Track 11, Disc 1... I Believe In Miracles. Hells yes, I do.
My daughter, sassy lass she is, threatened to be the worst of all children on the planet come Christmas Eve... thinking she'd have it made in the shade... thinking she'd be slim like jim... thinking she had 365 days for Santa to faghedaboudit... HA!
So. I told her... Any funny business missy and I'm calling Santa and I'm gonna tell!
She wants to know how I know his number. I tell her they gave it to me in the hospital when she was born, and that any adult who breaches his or her sworn confidentiality suffers a serious and torturous death. Then I tell her about this kid I knew who got the number off his mom's caller I.D.... and how he called Santa one day... and how Santa yelled at him, saying "Little KID! Call me again and you'll never get another present from me as long as you live!" And then I tell her how that kid didn't get a present from Santa for not one, but TWO Christmases in a ROW!
Then I tell her the song that little kid wrote... and how the Ramones picked it up later, changing a few words here and there so they'd play it on the radio all year long....
"If he could find a reason to forgive, then I could find a reason to live.... Oh I Believe In Santa Claus! Oh Oh Oh I believe he's gonna give to you and me...."
Ahhh.... my life fulfilled... I lie like a dog through my teeth to my children everyday.... and they LOVE IT. (I'm not really lying though. I do believe in Santa. Like I believe in the tooth fairy. Only, they got it wrong... Tooth Fairies don't give money to kids... They whisper in their parent's ears right before the exhausted and stressed out adult falls to sleep... they say "Bitch! Go put some money under that kid's pillow, dammit!" Yeah... they're foul-mouthed.... just like me. But I don't mind it. I'm tough. And Santa? Santa Claus makes homes shimmer in December. Santa Claus IS home, and Christmas Trees are pride.)
She later asked me how old that kid was. I told her he was seven.... just like her.
Cheers... Obrigado... Ciao Ciao
da bom? da bom!
~Rachel~
My daughter, sassy lass she is, threatened to be the worst of all children on the planet come Christmas Eve... thinking she'd have it made in the shade... thinking she'd be slim like jim... thinking she had 365 days for Santa to faghedaboudit... HA!
So. I told her... Any funny business missy and I'm calling Santa and I'm gonna tell!
She wants to know how I know his number. I tell her they gave it to me in the hospital when she was born, and that any adult who breaches his or her sworn confidentiality suffers a serious and torturous death. Then I tell her about this kid I knew who got the number off his mom's caller I.D.... and how he called Santa one day... and how Santa yelled at him, saying "Little KID! Call me again and you'll never get another present from me as long as you live!" And then I tell her how that kid didn't get a present from Santa for not one, but TWO Christmases in a ROW!
Then I tell her the song that little kid wrote... and how the Ramones picked it up later, changing a few words here and there so they'd play it on the radio all year long....
"If he could find a reason to forgive, then I could find a reason to live.... Oh I Believe In Santa Claus! Oh Oh Oh I believe he's gonna give to you and me...."
Ahhh.... my life fulfilled... I lie like a dog through my teeth to my children everyday.... and they LOVE IT. (I'm not really lying though. I do believe in Santa. Like I believe in the tooth fairy. Only, they got it wrong... Tooth Fairies don't give money to kids... They whisper in their parent's ears right before the exhausted and stressed out adult falls to sleep... they say "Bitch! Go put some money under that kid's pillow, dammit!" Yeah... they're foul-mouthed.... just like me. But I don't mind it. I'm tough. And Santa? Santa Claus makes homes shimmer in December. Santa Claus IS home, and Christmas Trees are pride.)
She later asked me how old that kid was. I told her he was seven.... just like her.
Cheers... Obrigado... Ciao Ciao
da bom? da bom!
~Rachel~
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The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird
Sweep the Leg Johnny.
hey y'all... have killer days and such
I dreamt last night that there were Freedom of Speech wars going on. All of us young-ish folks were pissed off to different degrees. A brother was raging on while the armies were busting down the walls...
I headed off into this grove where the sunlight streaming through the trees made all sorts of new and interesting camouflage patterns on the ground... one was all butterflies...
I looked up into the trees and saw that it was in fact filled with butterflies or giant moths or somesuch...
Then, in the way of dreams, I met this woman who was putting on a play. I wanted a part and she said I could be "Black Elephant". That prospect seemed interesting to me, but not the best part, so, seeing that on my face, she said I could be "Pony".
Then I woke up.
I just finished reading Neil Gaiman's "Anansi Boys"... I think that's where the dream came from. Anyway... if you're up for a good laugh, check it out.
c'ya's
~Pony
Back to the poetry, though. Your dream; how you wrote it, PastaNazi, was like spoken word. Very cool.
The risk I took was calculated, but man, am I bad at math - The Mincing Mockingbird