How do I know this?
Well, you see, years ago, when I was 10, it was midnight on Christmas eve. I snuck out of bed, looking through my dad’s collection of “JUGGS” magazine. I was grabbing some issues, while also getting a cloth from the bathroom (I was out of old socks), when suddenly I heard a thump from downstairs. I was freaking the fuck out, trying hard not to make a noise.
I stepped down the stairs, slowly, creeping my head from the wall. From there, I saw him; motherfucking Saint Nick!
My young little mind could barely contain the joy that I had at the sight of him! Here he is, right in front of me! The man who gave me that kick ass scooter the year before!
…then, I found my mother. She was in the kitchen, with the smell of freshly baked cookies flowing through the room. She was clothed with only an apron.
That’s when that bastard made his move. He grabbed my mom, threw her to the ground, and started getting on top of her.
Santa was raping my mom! That cunt!
So, I got out my mom’s frying pan, and smacked the asshole in the back of the fucking head. The fucker was knocked out cold. My mom called out my dad’s name in fear, but he didn’t come down stairs for some reason. Must have been tired.
Then she yelled at me and told me to go to my room. Sheesh. I was protecting her! Stupid bitch.
I went to bed. Before I went to sleep, I heard the ambulance outside about 10 minutes later.
It’s hard to hate a man who got you a PS2, but come on. And where the fuck was my dad that morning? He didn’t save my mom and I didn’t find him in bed until he came home a few days later with his face rapped up in bandages. What a prick.
Next year though, GAYint Nicholas came to my room. I was fucking shitting bricks, man. I thought he was going to rape ME. But instead, he apologized for what he did and told me to be a good boy. So it all worked out.
Also, some say that it’s impossible for Santa to deliver to millions of kids around the world. But you see, it’s all very simple; Santa can do what he does because NANOMACHINES.