Santa = Satan
Santa. We all remember him, don't we. I can almost feel the knobbly knee between my buttocks as I was positioned onto Santa's lap. He said, "I've got something for you" and I said, [i]What is it[/i], and he said, "Put your hand in my stocking and pull it out." Well I said, [i]This feels very small.[/i] But do you know something? It got bigger in my hand. Oh yes. I do have memories of SANTA and his "claws".
My back was ripped asunder. Santa seemed to be after something. As if he was looking for something鈥攗sing my body as if it were wrapping paper. Oh yes. I was USED by Santa.
I have many memories of SANTA and his grotto. Santa ruined my life. No wonder I became a registered drug addict, and antisocial, and that all my relationships have been PROFOUNDLY UNSUCCESSFUL. Oh yes. Santa ruined my life.
I really did see SANTA kissing...
...Daddy...
...underneath the plastic missletoe. Can you imagine the effect that had on me as a small child?
SANTA tied me up with bits of tinsel, and hung baubles and bangles and beads around my head & ears, and tried to make me into a Christmas tree decoration. I thought that that was normal.
I remember my tears. I remember... SANTA making unnatural demands. BECAUSE I wanted a prize. BECAUSE I wanted to stick my hand in his bran tub and pull something out!
馃 Tiny little fingers... in Santa's beard. Where did they come from? and why was there blood around his mouth? His face, I thought, would be a beautiful ruddy complexion, but it was green and it smelled.
If you rearrange the letters in Santa's name... YOU GET SATAN! Rearrange the letters in "Claus" and I give you CLASUTN!
SANTA... also the name of a pedigree Staffordshire bull terrier belonging to Camilla Parker Bowles.
I went into his grotto. The STENCH of human excrement, it's disgusting. They obviously hadn't cleaned up but they'd been there for months SQUATTING there. People lying around in their own EXCREMENT their own FILTH! FECES all over the wall of the grotto. That's what I remember. And poor Rudolph. Poor little Rudolph only had THREE legs. Why? Because Santa had TORN OFF ONE OF RUDOLPH'S FRONT LEGS. And there it was ROTATING on a SPIT. And there was Santa drinking straight from a gin bottle, pointing at the bubbling meat on the rotisserie, inviting people to PULL at Rudolph's flesh.
And Rudolph STOOD there, looking faintly RIDICULOUS, wearing a reindeer-size suspender belt AND TIGHTS. And a ridiculous sort of bra ensemble.
I went in there to tell Santa what I wanted for Christmas... I WALKED INTO AN ABATTOIR!
SANTA sat there with his legs open and his chainsaw IN. HIS. HAND. I'll never forget the sound: "RrRrRr, [b]RrRrRrRrRr,[/b] [big]RrRrRrRrRrRr!!![/big]"
He said, "Would you like a glove puppet for Christmas?" And I said, Yes please. And he said, "SO WOULD I!!!"
Rearrange the letters in Santa... [big][c=800000]AND I GIVE YOU SATAN!!![/c][/big]
Santa...
My back was ripped asunder. Santa seemed to be after something. As if he was looking for something鈥攗sing my body as if it were wrapping paper. Oh yes. I was USED by Santa.
I have many memories of SANTA and his grotto. Santa ruined my life. No wonder I became a registered drug addict, and antisocial, and that all my relationships have been PROFOUNDLY UNSUCCESSFUL. Oh yes. Santa ruined my life.
I really did see SANTA kissing...
...Daddy...
...underneath the plastic missletoe. Can you imagine the effect that had on me as a small child?
SANTA tied me up with bits of tinsel, and hung baubles and bangles and beads around my head & ears, and tried to make me into a Christmas tree decoration. I thought that that was normal.
I remember my tears. I remember... SANTA making unnatural demands. BECAUSE I wanted a prize. BECAUSE I wanted to stick my hand in his bran tub and pull something out!
馃 Tiny little fingers... in Santa's beard. Where did they come from? and why was there blood around his mouth? His face, I thought, would be a beautiful ruddy complexion, but it was green and it smelled.
If you rearrange the letters in Santa's name... YOU GET SATAN! Rearrange the letters in "Claus" and I give you CLASUTN!
SANTA... also the name of a pedigree Staffordshire bull terrier belonging to Camilla Parker Bowles.
I went into his grotto. The STENCH of human excrement, it's disgusting. They obviously hadn't cleaned up but they'd been there for months SQUATTING there. People lying around in their own EXCREMENT their own FILTH! FECES all over the wall of the grotto. That's what I remember. And poor Rudolph. Poor little Rudolph only had THREE legs. Why? Because Santa had TORN OFF ONE OF RUDOLPH'S FRONT LEGS. And there it was ROTATING on a SPIT. And there was Santa drinking straight from a gin bottle, pointing at the bubbling meat on the rotisserie, inviting people to PULL at Rudolph's flesh.
And Rudolph STOOD there, looking faintly RIDICULOUS, wearing a reindeer-size suspender belt AND TIGHTS. And a ridiculous sort of bra ensemble.
I went in there to tell Santa what I wanted for Christmas... I WALKED INTO AN ABATTOIR!
SANTA sat there with his legs open and his chainsaw IN. HIS. HAND. I'll never forget the sound: "RrRrRr, [b]RrRrRrRrRr,[/b] [big]RrRrRrRrRrRr!!![/big]"
He said, "Would you like a glove puppet for Christmas?" And I said, Yes please. And he said, "SO WOULD I!!!"
Rearrange the letters in Santa... [big][c=800000]AND I GIVE YOU SATAN!!![/c][/big]
Santa...
26-30, M
