Shut up. It was smooth at one stage. I remember…
When The Damn Emos™ were little and were just the little pains in my smooth white arse, I took them to see Santa.
Normally we would go to the awesome Santa and the shopping centre in another town. Because he was awesome. Duh. But this particular day we were shopping at our local centre and Santa was there and the bastard had lollipops.
Some chick dressed in a very short santa helper suit accosted my girls and promised them lollipops to sit on Santa’s knee.
Isn’t there like laws and shit about luring kids with sweets to sit on some guys knee?
Anyway, this santa was a dude. And not in a good way. A dude as in I would be rather surfing or checking out the chicks wearing short summer dresses wandering by than letting small kids crawl all over me kinda dude.
So I let my kids go over while I berate the lolly waving bitch. Cause no, I do NOT want photos with the surfer Santa and no, I am not shelling out over 30 bucks for a pic of my babies sitting on the lap of a guy that is not even old enough to fucking shave let alone wear the awesome suit of Christmas power.
And the bitch called me ‘maam’. I ain’t no fucking maam, bitch.
Moo is sitting on Santas lap, and my judge of good character Too is standing nearby loudly telling MPS that this guy ain’t Santa and why can’t we go and see the real Santa at the other shopping centre.
Why didn’t I listen?
The slutty santa chick was chucking me darkies while Moo rattled off her Christmas list. And then I heard it.
‘I want a scooter’
This particular Christmas was the year when scooters were all the rage and were at premium prices. And I had already told her that Santa had run out and was going to give her even more awesome gifts than a stupid scooter. Cause scooters were stupid and wouldn’t she rather a Barbie Dream House that mummy always wanted as a child but mean evil Nanna wouldn’t let Santa bring?
‘Oh! You want a scooter do you?’ exclaims Surfer Santa, looking over at me and totally ignoring all the other shit she had said.
I shake my head at him.
‘I promise I will bring you a scooter! You have been such a good girl this year!’ and the fucker gives me the thumbs up.
I nearly die. You fucking BASTARD!
Moo skips off his lap, her eyes shining. ‘Mummy! I am going to get a scooter! Santa promised!’
‘Really? Well Santa shouldn’t really promise things you know.’ I tell her while shooting a death glare that should have melted Surfer Santas face off ‘Cause sometimes he runs out of things…’
‘But he PROMISED!’ The look of devastation on her face nearly breaks my heart.
The next day we mortgaged our house and bought the girls scooters.
Christmas morning came and Moo was beside herself with excitement.
She opened her gifts, gave the scooter a passing glance and went on to play with her Barbie Dream House.
The scooter rusted in the yard.
I hope those bleeding syphilic haemorrhoid’s I used all my Christmas wishes on put a dampener on that fuckers New Years.