The Many Mishaps of Santa
Seasons Greetings, ladies and gentlemen! It’s a harmattanless tuesday at my corner of Lagos, but who am I to complain? The chickens have been slaughtered in a style that would make Spartacus blush, and a drumstick or two have made their way into yours truly’s GIT (that’s gastro-intestinal tract; why you no read science?)
Humans. Funny folks, us. I’m no Nostradamus, but given his recent banged up job at predicting the end of the world, I can safely say I’d do a better job of predicting this evening in Lagos.
“Malonogede” by Terry G and Timaya will be a hit in clubs this night. Funny song, that one. I don’t understand yoruba like that, and for a long time, I thought Terry G was saying “don’t beat the banana”, and for days I meditated on what the banana might be. Shut up.
For some folks, the closest they’ll come to acknowledging God this Christmas would be mid-song, when Uncle Terry suddenly ejaculates “Oh Lord, Come down, and Manifest your power; oh Lord come down, and manifest your power” and – without missing a beat – “malonogedede malonogedede – “
Mary’s Boy Child is becoming nothing more than a reason for a national holiday. But I digress, and I’m veering off into depressing lanes. I am here to talk about a certain Saint.
Saint Nicholas was a saint who had a mid-career crisis and decided instead to “visit” children yearly in their rooms and “load them” with gifts. Now, I’m not the smartest guy on earth (I am; I’m just being modest), but don’t you see what’s happening here?
Studies have shown that wearing red tends to cause an increase in the sexual appetite of your partner. **discreet cough** Uncle Santa literally fell in a bucket of red paint.
He seems to have a thing for kids. There’s this cute (?) Thing he does when he keeps a list of “good” and “naughty” (did you catch the sexual undertone in the “naughty”) kids. Damn. Imagine this: an old man sneaks every night into your kid’s room. It’s wrong on so many levels.
Yeah, yeah, call me the guy with the twisted thinking, but you’ll agree with me that Michael Jackson (bless) him didn’t have to stalk the world’d children before multiple law suits were slammed on him.
Jimmy Saville (don’t know who he is? Google up “Jimmy Saville paedophile”) and R-Kelly (hehe) need to learn a thing or two from Saint Nick. Santa is welcome in our homes. R-Kelly can’t even use my daughter’s bathroom.
My real beef here is, as we no come get Chimney for my house, does that mean Santa won’t be coming to my base? Damn mehn. Can’t the dude roll with the times, like take the elevator or something (LOL! Elevator indeed.)?
What if I’m in the middle of some “activities”, like giving my sweetheart an early christmas present? Santa barging in on us is top on my to-be-feared list.
In other news, Merry Christmas once again. I wish you all the best this season. Let’s try to stay alive next year. I’ve got a surprise for you if you make it.
(C) Maestro Vunderkind, Reporting from the North Pole.