Hostage Santa

A while back one of the bloggers I follow (Not Worth Mentioning) posted a blog about ways you could take down Santa and tranquilize him. This blog got me thinking about what would my kids say and do to Santa if they were to tranquilize him.

As you know or may not know I have a set of 10 year old twins (one boy and one girl) who are night and day different when it comes to personality. My son (referred to by one of his nicknames –Biggie) can be sweet at times, but mostly he shows a evil, sick, twisted sense of humor like his dad does. While my daughter (also referred to by one of her nicknames – Sissy) is a total polar opposite of her brother, and tends to be very sweet, thoughtful, and angelic most of the time. So here goes the story of what happened when my kids tranquilized poor Santa.

Santa comes down the chimney and is promptly shot with the tranquilizer gun, bound with hand cuffs and duct tape, and placed on the couch. The twins go through Santa’s bag of gifts for them to see their gifts and then let time pass so they can interrogate question him.

Biggie – He’s waking up.

Sissy – Yes he is coming around.

Santa – Where am I?

Biggie – I will ask the questions you fat fuck.

Santa – You are not supposed to be cussing young man.

Biggie – (after slapping Santa) Look I am aware of that. But those are deer lease words and well since we bagged and tagged your ass, they are appropriate to use here so shut it.

Sissy – Now Biggie, he is going to talk, there is no need to be angry.

Biggie – Bullshit, there sure is a reason to be angry. Santa why the fuck is this bag always skimpy when you come down our chimney?

Santa – Well you always are skimpy when it comes to getting good grades.

Biggie – (slaps Santa again). Why do you each year bring us the same scooters that always break. You are Santa can’t you get the kids making this shit in China to improve them a little?

Santa – They are made in the North Pole, not China.

Biggie – (slaps Santa again) you are a fat fucking liar.

Sissy – Now Biggie we don’t need to beat him to death. We already got the toys in his bag. Santa, why can’t you bring something more realistic that I want like a new Barbie, or a new Build-a-Bear?

Santa – I go by the list that you send me each year and bring you stuff based upon that list.

Sissy – But we have never sent you a list before.


Biggie – You fat fuck, you just bring us gifts based upon some other kids list. How many other Biggie and Sissy twins are there?

Santa – There must be some mistake here.

Biggie – You bet your fat ass there is, you keep bringing us the wrong fucking toys.

Sissy – Look Santa we are going to let you slide this year, but next year please can you get our gifts correct?

Santa – Yes I think I can do better next year.

Biggie – You had better keep your promise you rosy red bastard or I will report you to the labor boards for using all those damn underage workers at the North Pole. And if you show up next year with someone else’s gifts, I will hook you up to a car battery and cables, drench you with a water hose, and thoroughly go medieval on your ass all night.

Santa – There is no need for anger my son, I will get it right next year.

Sissy – Thanks though Santa for replacing our broken scooters. Merry Christmas.

Santa – Merry Christmas.

Biggie – Merry Christmas you old bastard, now get the hell out of my house.

 And there you have it, Christmas through the eyes of two kids.