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Lacerda, News Correspondent
Forget 'hostile holidays'--try soul-crushing depression that eats away at the very core of your soul (it also doesn't help that my soul is a delicious caramel apple, thereby making it that much tastier) and see how far you get.
About this time, each and every year without fail, I feel that living is too hard to bear. I think back on all the mistakes I've made and people I've maimed, and I just start weeping uncontrollably like Bush having a nightmare. Then I put on lipstick and eat peanut-butter icecream and cry some more. But it doesn't help.
I've traced the root of this problem back several years, and it all has to do with my being banned from a department store. That's not really all that upsetting, as I get banned from plenty of places: the library, the school, HackerNetwork, "outside", etc. No, the problem lies with the circumstances that surrounded this unfortunate day in history.
You see, I've always had a giant elf fetish (that's a giant fetish, not a fetish for giant elves) and I find opportunities to exercise my particular perversion are few and far between. (The movie lineups for Lord of the Rings changed all that, but that's another and more criminally litigious story.) So it's about this time every year that I head out to the mall, Commando-style and looking for some 'action'. You get my meaning. Commando action. Like without underwear. And action = sex.
I really don't get what the big deal is. The elves are there to help Santa, nothing else. It's not like they're really people. Second-class citizens at best. Should I decide to anally probe them, I don't think anyone should be complaining. THEY WORK ALL YEAR MAKING TOYS--YOU'D THINK A BIT OF THE OLD IN-OUT IN-OUT WOULD BE A REFRESHING CHANGE. But nooo...apparently elves can talk human-talk! And point with their little fingers. Jesus, if you can't even celebrate the birth of Christ by buggering a festively dressed midget with fake ears, what the hell can you do? And they call this a free country...
"Hey! You can't do that to my elves! You're scaring the children!"
"Back off, Claus! There's plenty to go around; you've got them all year!"
"Security!"
I didn't even get my photo taken with Santa. What kind of mall doesn't even let me get the photo? I mean, I paid for the photo, didn't I? I just got distracted by some elves. It's not my fault, it's the media.
So I'm sitting in this office, and the people there are on the phone to the police and they're all like "blah blah blah sexual assault, so forth and yadda yadda" and I'm all: "What the hell?" so I run out of there at top speed and go to the Customer Service desk where they won't even refund my money for the photos I never got to take! BOY!
You just can't win nowadays.
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