The kids wrote their letters to Santa last night.
Moo, Too, Boo and the ring-in Ranga (Moo’s BFF who practically lives here, she has chores and everything). Two 17 year olds, a 15 year old and a boy with Autism sitting on the floor under the Pokemon Tree writing their wishes.
hiding working hard in the kitchen, eavesdropping overhearing the conversation.
There were the usual ‘a bajillion dollars’ ‘a planet full of unicorns’ ‘severed heads’ ‘Edward’ and ’72 virgins’. The dreams of Damn Emos. I have no idea where they get their weirdness from.
Must have been the Tofu and liver I fed them as babies. Cause damn that was entertaining watching them nom on that shit.
They were cracking themselves up with their Emo wit, and I was all ‘potatoes and coal for you biatches’.
While all the hilarity ensued, Boo was quietly writing his requests to Santa. There was dead silence while the Damn Emo’s read his list.
Apparently, if he doesn’t get everything he desires everyone will die and he will set himself on fire.
Click to enlarge…
How is that for pressure?
Thankfully I was able to
backhand an old lady with a cane and stomp on a little kids face to snatch the last one acquire the radio controlled car he requested. The Mighty Morphing Power Rangers (the MMPR in the letter) DVD’s are proving to be a little more elusive. Apparently Boo missed the craze by, oh, about SEVEN YEARS.
But I will prevail. I will summon all of my awesome fabulousing powers to prevent my boy from setting himself alight.
Cause dammit, the only thing that will be burning on Christmas Day is the poor turkey my mother will mutilate.