Twas the night before Christmas, when at the Saw Farm. Not a creature was stirring… except for… “It’s getting the hawt in here, so take off all the clothes! I am getting so the hawt I’m gonna take the clothes off!” John Q. my stuffed, yellow bear sidekick, mangling the lyrics to Nelly’s “Hot in Here”.
Umm John, this is a Christmassy rhymey kinda story. So, I don’t think that’s really proper. Pausing he blinked and looked at me, “Nawt pwroper?’ he queried and considered. Then in a rather proper British accent- “I’m starting to perspire! I shall remove my garments! Pip pip for me and 2 sugars in me tea.” John that’s not what I… eh he’s already marched out of the room. Anywho… stirring creatures aside.
The stocking was hung on a doorknob with care. We have a chimney, but it works better there.
The Grand-Saw was nestled, all snug in his bed. Video game victories played in his head.
I’d laid back on the sofa, pulled down my cap- taking a break, considering a nap. When from out in the yard there came such a weird sound, I hopped up off the couch to have a look round. Away to the window I ran like the Flash. A terrible film- Ezra Miller is trash.
Outside the window it looked like a black hole. Like a well diggers arse or politicians’ soul.
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear… well nothing… duh! We just established total and utter blackness out there. “Nothing to see here folks, please go back to your homes…”- I started to say. That’s when the black moved and then pulled away.
Then what to my befuddled mind did appear? The eye of a 30-foot inflatable deer. From behind him appeared a dozen or so more, the lawn filled with blow-up Holiday decor.
Bouncing and bobbling across the field they came. Too many to count and way too stupid to name. A Homer, with doughnut and a Santa hat. Dancing t-rex and pig inflatably fat. A Mickey, a Minnie, a half-dozen Grinches. Even a Christmas poop came out of the trenches.
An inflated Santa stepped out of the crowd. Addressing yours truly, quite angry and loud- “In your column you say we’re tasteless and tacky. But we bring joy and are delightfully wacky. We loathe your inflation discrimination and slander towards us of blow-up variation. We formed a committee to see what to do and our solution is- we’re going to kill you!”
Holy shite, I thought, that got dark really quick. As I took a step back from inflatable Nick.
They rushed me. I ran and then stopped and took pause. They’re just Nylon and air versus chainsaws?
I said not a word (aside from muttering that x-mas gets weirder every year) but went straight to my work. Grabbed up my chainsaw, gave the ripcord a jerk. Then revving up and striking an Evil Dead pose… you regular readers know how this all goes. But despite the slaughtering plans I had laid, I didn’t figure their fabric snagging the blade.
Thus, the saw stalled out and fell dead to the ground. The inflation pressed in and gathered all round. What could their murderous plan possibly be? Well that’s simple folks- they’d just suffocate me. All hope was lost then as I started choking. Swearing that if I survived, I would quit smoking.
I won’t say I’m sorry or apologize. You’re stupid looking and make baby-pies. Baby-pies? WTF? Oh, I’m blacking out. Well folks, it’s been fun but… wait… what’s that noise?
“It’s getting the hawt in there, so get out of there! I am getting so the hawt I’m gonna get out of here!” John Q. came skipping across the lawn, naked as a jaybird (aren’t all birds naked?). And accidentally tripped over and unintentionally unplugged a previously unnoticed drop-cord. There was a whirring sound of small motors winding down and all the inflatables deflated. Hmmm… that was well timed and rather convenient.
As I got to my feet John asked- “Arwnt you gonna do any more of the rhymes?” Nah, aside from a holiday bonfire I think we’re done here. And you heard me exclaim as I wrote out of sight- “Merry Christmas to all and to all baby-pies.”
I welcome almost all questions, comments via Focus, or E-mail me at [email protected]. Hope to hear from ya, until then try and stay focused! See ya.
