Sunday, December 26, 2010

Santa's Gift to the First Comers

 Lohbado went to the annual Club Morono Baby Jesus Dinner down at the Tabernacle, the place of mythology and suspension of disbelief. Strong emotions surged through his long thin body, as he sat in the banquet hall, polluted with pop tunes filtered through the drone machine and compressed by drop-tile ceiling speakers to lower sound to a flavorless, easy to digest sonic consistency, like baby food. All in a positive light, no leaks, only officially endorsed subliminal messages to grease public awareness into swallowing hard pills, as wealthy control groups laughed up their sleeves at how easy it was. Another two years of tax breaks; reduce assistance to sick, poor, unemployed and elderly.

Lohbado sat alone at a table, since he was one of the first to arrive and nursed his glass of cheap, bitter red wine. He tried to read cheerful messages into the dregs at the bottom. He didn't have long to ponder the meaning of a glass of wine. A man, about forty, a thick mop of black hair, waltzed in and said Santa was outside. Santa also came too soon. Where were the people to receive the gifts?

The door burst open, knocking the man aside. Speaking of the devil, there he was, the good old Saint Nick himself, flushed red like a Lucifer match head, a man with a long, flowing beard and silky white hair, the one and only Santa Claus. Holy Mary, Mother of Mercy, it was the saint of gift giving himself, the one who appears without fail every Baby Jesus Day, to celebrate the arrival of the One who brings peace with a sword, to separate mother from daughter, brother from sister, to break up families and cast disbelievers into eternal torture, extraordinary Christmas rendition straight to hell.

Nick said: "I got a little special something to reward the eagerness of early comers and to make latecomers jealous, a little something from the dancing, prancing reindeer. These special little brown reindeer pills are the key to an inner labyrinth. Take these pills and open the door to subconscious delight that would make Freud stroke his beard in approval. I let the reindeer graze one month in the multi-colored meadow of magic flowers. As the reindeer began to fly, I collected their bliss-filled shit and piss and made it into pills to blow your mind, to unleash psychotic visions and escapist fantasies, in other words, a little relief from the human condition, before returning to the grindstone, to earn one's bread by the sweat of one's brow. Swallow two of these pills and enjoy a few hours of fun, thanks to Santa and his little reindeer."


  1. Thanks, dear John,
    for this Christmasstory and thanks for these pills..., to Santa and his little reindeer.
    Love the roses and the stew behind the reindeer...or is it an elk?

  2. It's a caribou, lots of them in the north.