Post by Santa Claus on Jan 17, 2013 11:42:14 GMT -5
The sky is slightly overcast and the air is crisp and cold. But what else would you expect when standing at the North Pole? This is where the magic happens, where mischievous little elves dressed in green and red felt clothing dance and make toys all year long for good boys and girls. It's where the reindeer play their reindeer games and fly around in the air and picking on the red-nosed freak one. It's just a great place to be.
A place where all of your dreams can come true, except it won't cost you an arm and a leg like Disney World. Snow never melts here at the North Pole and people say that it has magic properties. Just don't eat the yellow snow cones that The Easter Bunny makes, they're not really lemon-flavored, no matter what the furry-eared freak tells you. But this is the North Pole, the only place in the world where it's okay to wear your girlfriend's pink t-shirt underneath a sweater and a big ass coat, because no one will see what you're wearing anyway!
What? Did I forget something? Oh, how silly of me! That's right, I forgot about the most important person of all who resides here at the North Pole - Santa Claus! He's the big fat guy who lives off of chocolate chip cookies, candy canes, gingerbread men, fruitcake and huge, gigantic, humongous glasses... nay, dare I say it? Pitchers of milk! Now Santa Claus wasn't always fat, in fact, he used to be quite the svelte, sophisticated man about town.
But poor Santa has Type 2 Diabetes, and the bastard doesn't check his blood sugar. But it doesn't matter. He's the jolly old fat bastard who loves to have children sit on his lap and tell him what they want for Christmas. - Hmm, that didn't sound quite right. What I meant to say was, he's the jolly old fat man whose belly shakes like a bowl full of jelly when he laughs. There, much better.
Now, Santa isn't alone up here at the North Pole. After all, it would make for some awful lonely nights. Before he married Mary Christmas, Santa was all alone at the North Pole... only him, a box of Kleenex, a large bottle of generic lubrication oil and a stack of Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issues. Thankfully, times have changed, and now Santa uses the internet for what Mrs. Claus won't hook him up with at home. But Mrs. Claus is the woman behind the scenes, she makes sure that Santa is doing the right thing and always working busy throughout the year. Why, even on their vacation, she has him lose his Christmas weight just for a month.. just so he can fit into his reindeer-skin speedo.
Deep within the wood chip layered floor and the smell of sawdust in the air of Santa's Workshop, this is where we find our favorite, fat, frivilous friend Santa. He is leaning over a bench, sanding down a small wooden toy for some lucky boy or girl in some third world country... like Vermont. He turns around just in time as a midget in a very fake-looking elf costume runs by. Santa laughs, his belly shakes like a bowl full of processed strawberry preserves... no wait... like a bowl full of jelly as he now places his small pad of sandpaper down on the workbench right next to the wooden toy.
His eyes twinkle and his rosy red cheeks are alight with glee as he now puts the tiny, thin-lensed glasses over his eyes and then bellows out a merry, cheery "HO HO HO!" causing his belly to quiver and quake. Once could almost see the waves splash back and forth on his massive, cookies and candy cane fed gut. But now is where he speaks... to the delight of millions of wrestling fans sitting on their couches at home.
Santa: Hoooo Hooooooo Hooooooooooo! You know boys and girls, I've been receiving letters from all around the world asking me when I was going to get back into the wrestling business. People have been wondering just where I've been hiding myself ever since my ill-fated time in that small-time regional federation. Naturally, I've been far too busy to reply to any letters, but my Head Elf has been keeping me filled in, while I keep Mrs. Claus filled in. HO HO HO![/color]
Santa laughs again, this time with a small, almost unseen movement of his hips. But you'd have to really look close if you wanted to see it. I mean, really look close... and why the hell would you be looking at Santa's crotch for? You're a sick fucking person, you know that right? Just plain sick, staring at Santa's junk like that. You should be ashamed of yourself!
Santa: But I came here to PW, where the big boys play.. with themselves. Now I came here because of the talent, and because PW offered me a generous 30% take of all merchandise sales, and let me tell you, I will be selling the holy hell out of my new Santa merchandise! I've got hats, caps, watches, suits, jackets, the Christmas Championship, bells, trees, beards, boots, Santa's chestnuts, or even special fans can get an autographed replica of Santa's wrinkled Christmas Sack! It makes a great stuffer!
[/color]
As Santa speaks, all of these items flash on the screen, each with their own individual price, although most seem to range around $19.99 with the obligatory $6.95 shipping and handling. But Santa isn't done yet! He continues to shill his products, along with his special SANTA HOTLINE at 1-999-SANTACLAUS. Finally, as minutes tick away as Santa does his very best Billy Mays (without the cocaine-related death), he finally calms down and begins to speak about his debut match at Disorder against Rickman.
Santa: Now getting back into the swing of things will be tough for your old pal, Santa. I'm a little rusty since leaving that other regional federation, but here in PW, I'm set to take on Rickman. Hmm... Rickman... I've seen that name before somewhere...
[/color]
Santa now pulls out his Naughty List and begins to scroll through it. The Naughty List is extremely long, and several long, agonizing minutes pass for the viewers as they watch him go through just the names starting with "R". Finally, he stops his finger at her name, which has her photo next to it and he shakes his head... tsk'ing mightily.
Santa: Shame shame! Rickman, you have been quite the naughty little one, haven't you? I see that you've been up to some terrible, naughty things. That sex tape you released on the internet was pretty bad, but I see here that you've even delved into doing the ultimate no-no... you loaned Ric Flair money. Such a bad little boy. You're going to have to be punished, and I'll make sure that you get exactly what's coming to you.
[/color]
Santa removes his big, thick black belt from around his waist and wraps it around his red and black gloved hand. He then clenches his hand, making a fist with the belt wrapped around it. He now scowls seriously... way too serious for a guy dressed up in a Santa costume should be.
Santa: You see, there's no more Mr. Nice Guy. While it might be a decent Alice Cooper song, it's also a stated fact. I'm tired of just giving Naughty people coal for Christmas. Instead, I'm going to give out fistfuls of a coal-covered ass kicking! You're going to realize that you're better off being nice... because I'm Santa Claus, and I know when you've been good or bad... so you'd better be good for goodness sake! HO HO HO!
[/color]
Santa now suddenly stops scowling and smiles widely, his cheeks turn back to their rosy-red color and he chuckles.
Santa: I'll see you and all of my wonderful fans in just a few days. HO HOOO HOOOOOOOO!
[/color]
Fade to black.[/font]
A place where all of your dreams can come true, except it won't cost you an arm and a leg like Disney World. Snow never melts here at the North Pole and people say that it has magic properties. Just don't eat the yellow snow cones that The Easter Bunny makes, they're not really lemon-flavored, no matter what the furry-eared freak tells you. But this is the North Pole, the only place in the world where it's okay to wear your girlfriend's pink t-shirt underneath a sweater and a big ass coat, because no one will see what you're wearing anyway!
What? Did I forget something? Oh, how silly of me! That's right, I forgot about the most important person of all who resides here at the North Pole - Santa Claus! He's the big fat guy who lives off of chocolate chip cookies, candy canes, gingerbread men, fruitcake and huge, gigantic, humongous glasses... nay, dare I say it? Pitchers of milk! Now Santa Claus wasn't always fat, in fact, he used to be quite the svelte, sophisticated man about town.
But poor Santa has Type 2 Diabetes, and the bastard doesn't check his blood sugar. But it doesn't matter. He's the jolly old fat bastard who loves to have children sit on his lap and tell him what they want for Christmas. - Hmm, that didn't sound quite right. What I meant to say was, he's the jolly old fat man whose belly shakes like a bowl full of jelly when he laughs. There, much better.
Now, Santa isn't alone up here at the North Pole. After all, it would make for some awful lonely nights. Before he married Mary Christmas, Santa was all alone at the North Pole... only him, a box of Kleenex, a large bottle of generic lubrication oil and a stack of Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Issues. Thankfully, times have changed, and now Santa uses the internet for what Mrs. Claus won't hook him up with at home. But Mrs. Claus is the woman behind the scenes, she makes sure that Santa is doing the right thing and always working busy throughout the year. Why, even on their vacation, she has him lose his Christmas weight just for a month.. just so he can fit into his reindeer-skin speedo.
Deep within the wood chip layered floor and the smell of sawdust in the air of Santa's Workshop, this is where we find our favorite, fat, frivilous friend Santa. He is leaning over a bench, sanding down a small wooden toy for some lucky boy or girl in some third world country... like Vermont. He turns around just in time as a midget in a very fake-looking elf costume runs by. Santa laughs, his belly shakes like a bowl full of processed strawberry preserves... no wait... like a bowl full of jelly as he now places his small pad of sandpaper down on the workbench right next to the wooden toy.
His eyes twinkle and his rosy red cheeks are alight with glee as he now puts the tiny, thin-lensed glasses over his eyes and then bellows out a merry, cheery "HO HO HO!" causing his belly to quiver and quake. Once could almost see the waves splash back and forth on his massive, cookies and candy cane fed gut. But now is where he speaks... to the delight of millions of wrestling fans sitting on their couches at home.
Santa: Hoooo Hooooooo Hooooooooooo! You know boys and girls, I've been receiving letters from all around the world asking me when I was going to get back into the wrestling business. People have been wondering just where I've been hiding myself ever since my ill-fated time in that small-time regional federation. Naturally, I've been far too busy to reply to any letters, but my Head Elf has been keeping me filled in, while I keep Mrs. Claus filled in. HO HO HO![/color]
Santa laughs again, this time with a small, almost unseen movement of his hips. But you'd have to really look close if you wanted to see it. I mean, really look close... and why the hell would you be looking at Santa's crotch for? You're a sick fucking person, you know that right? Just plain sick, staring at Santa's junk like that. You should be ashamed of yourself!
Santa: But I came here to PW, where the big boys play.. with themselves. Now I came here because of the talent, and because PW offered me a generous 30% take of all merchandise sales, and let me tell you, I will be selling the holy hell out of my new Santa merchandise! I've got hats, caps, watches, suits, jackets, the Christmas Championship, bells, trees, beards, boots, Santa's chestnuts, or even special fans can get an autographed replica of Santa's wrinkled Christmas Sack! It makes a great stuffer!
[/color]
As Santa speaks, all of these items flash on the screen, each with their own individual price, although most seem to range around $19.99 with the obligatory $6.95 shipping and handling. But Santa isn't done yet! He continues to shill his products, along with his special SANTA HOTLINE at 1-999-SANTACLAUS. Finally, as minutes tick away as Santa does his very best Billy Mays (without the cocaine-related death), he finally calms down and begins to speak about his debut match at Disorder against Rickman.
Santa: Now getting back into the swing of things will be tough for your old pal, Santa. I'm a little rusty since leaving that other regional federation, but here in PW, I'm set to take on Rickman. Hmm... Rickman... I've seen that name before somewhere...
[/color]
Santa now pulls out his Naughty List and begins to scroll through it. The Naughty List is extremely long, and several long, agonizing minutes pass for the viewers as they watch him go through just the names starting with "R". Finally, he stops his finger at her name, which has her photo next to it and he shakes his head... tsk'ing mightily.
Santa: Shame shame! Rickman, you have been quite the naughty little one, haven't you? I see that you've been up to some terrible, naughty things. That sex tape you released on the internet was pretty bad, but I see here that you've even delved into doing the ultimate no-no... you loaned Ric Flair money. Such a bad little boy. You're going to have to be punished, and I'll make sure that you get exactly what's coming to you.
[/color]
Santa removes his big, thick black belt from around his waist and wraps it around his red and black gloved hand. He then clenches his hand, making a fist with the belt wrapped around it. He now scowls seriously... way too serious for a guy dressed up in a Santa costume should be.
Santa: You see, there's no more Mr. Nice Guy. While it might be a decent Alice Cooper song, it's also a stated fact. I'm tired of just giving Naughty people coal for Christmas. Instead, I'm going to give out fistfuls of a coal-covered ass kicking! You're going to realize that you're better off being nice... because I'm Santa Claus, and I know when you've been good or bad... so you'd better be good for goodness sake! HO HO HO!
[/color]
Santa now suddenly stops scowling and smiles widely, his cheeks turn back to their rosy-red color and he chuckles.
Santa: I'll see you and all of my wonderful fans in just a few days. HO HOOO HOOOOOOOO!
[/color]
Fade to black.[/font]
