PORFLE PRESENTS: "THE 12 TATER TOTS OF CHRISTMAS"

(Here's something I wrote a LONG time ago for a now-defunct site called "Bumscorner."  You'll notice the prices are a bit out of date now.  Also,  my diet has changed considerably.)

Usually I spend all the Christmas money I get on DVDs. I love DVDs. If I were Richie Rich, I would take all the money he wastes on stupid stuff like robot maids and genetically-altered dogs that have spots shaped like dollar signs and spend it on millions of DVDs, and Freckles and Pee-Wee would secretly hate my guts even more. However...

Something about the Christmas season makes me really, really hungry. So I'm taking the hundred bucks that sweet old Granny Bum gave me for Christmas to Wal-Mart to buy a month's worth of groceries. "But, porfle," you're thinking, "you can't buy a whole month's worth of groceries for $100." Well, we're certainly going to give it a shot.

I like to work the food section at Wal-Mart from right to left, so first we wheel our shopping cart into the dairy aisle.

 2 gallons of cheap milk
 1 tub house brand margerine
 1 dozen house brand jumbo eggs

Money remaining: $91.50

Now we veer into the meat section. (I'll bet that's the first time today that you've heard someone say that.)

 1 package of basic, non-fancy bologna
 2 packs of standard, no-frills Oscar Meyer wieners

You'd be surprised how much stuff you can cook with just those simple elements. Two diced-up microwaved wieners provide plenty of savory meat for a whole variety of cheap dishes you can make with side-dish packets. And a single diced-up slice of bologna, fried with diced onions, really sets off a steaming pile of scrambled eggs mixed with diced tomatoes, jalepenos, and cheese. Also, four or five slices of bologna cut in half, fried, and served with canned spinach and tater tots is a feast fit for a king. Why, Donald Trump's fat ass never had it so good.

Money remaining: $87.00

Now we leave the meat section to procure some non-edible items. I know you'd rather stay there for awhile, because that's where the steaks, pork chops, rump roasts, and other wonderful, yummy things are. But we must ignore them. They are for people who have rich grannies.

Non-edible items which must be procured:

 1 box dishwasher detergent
 1 three-pack cheapo paper towels
 1 pack of Raid Flea Foggers because I have cats
 1 four-pack of deluxe double-ply Charmin toilet tissue (because there are some things you just can't skimp on)

Money remaining: $77.00

And now, although we are being as frugal as possible, we must have snacks. Snacks are what separate humans from the animals, because animals don't watch TV.

 1 15-pack of Pop Weaver popcorn
 1 party-sized can of house brand peanuts
 1 family-sized bag of no-frills tortilla chips
 1 large container of hot sauce (or "salsa")
 1 package of cheap glazed oatmeal cookies
 1 package of cheap chocolate-covered graham crackers
 4 bags of Sam's Choice cheese puffs

Forget about those decadent name-brand Cheetos. Sam's Choice cheese puffs are only a dollar a bag, and they fill the bags up almost to the top. This alone is enough to make me glad Sam Walton was born.

Tortilla chips and hot sauce are a must, because they can either be a snack or a delicious side dish for almost any meal. If you're lucky enough to live in or around East Texas you can get Albert's Hot Sauce. If not, you must settle for an inferior brand.

Money remaining: $56.00

Moving on, it is now time to hit the aisles that feature canned foods, rice, packaged mixes, etc. These are highly important because they help form the basis for the wonderful and exciting super-cheap meals that we will prepare during the month.

I love spinach. A can of house-brand spinach is only fifty cents. Another brand has a picture of Popeye on the label, but you must resist buying it because it costs ten cents more, and that's just for the picture of Popeye.

8 cans of non-Popeye spinach

Cheap rice is only forty-eight cents a bag. FORTY-EIGHT CENTS! Half a bag of cooked rice mixed with a cheap can of chili and beans or vegetable beef soup, cheese, onions, and spices makes an incredible meal that will last most people at least two or three days. HOLY CATS! Paris Hilton doesn't know what the hell she's missing.

 2 bags cheap rice
 2 cans cheap chili and beans
 2 cans cheap vegetable beef soup

Oh yeah, cheese:

 1 block house brand extra-sharp cheddar cheese

Here's another mind-boggling bargain: a large can of brand-name spaghetti sauce is only a buck! And a pound of spaghetti or vermicelli is also only a buck! That's two bucks for a huge, steaming mass of spaghetti that will last you almost a week! It's almost too much for our puny minds to comprehend.

 1 large can brand-name spaghetti sauce
 1 package spaghetti or vermicelli

Money remaining: $41.00

While we're here, we must pick up some packaged mixes, such as noodle or rice based side-dish packets, potato mixes, mashed potatoes, and macaroni-and-cheese. These can be mixed with diced wieners or tuna to create delicious entrees. If you've never let your imagination run wild with this kind of stuff, you wouldn't believe how good it can be. That's right -- you can mix diced wieners with mashed potatoes, onions, and spices, pour some cheap gravy on it, and make a meal that would have Arnold Schwarzenegger himself vowing: "I'll be back -- for seconds!"

 2 house brand side-dish packets
 1 box mashed potatoes
 2 boxes potato mix (scalloped, au gratin, etc.)
 1 box macaroni-and-cheese
 2 cans house brand tuna

Money remaining: $34.00

Bread, gotta have bread. Sandwiches are a great way to stretch your grocery dollars. And you must have buttered toast with your scrambled eggs and bologna. Get the cheapest bread available, and keep it in the refrigerator -- I guarantee you it will stay fresh for a month.

Sandwich accessories include pickles, peanut butter, and onions. (Not at the same time, however, unless you like really weird sandwiches.) And if you're like me, you also love tortillas. They're great with some melted cheese, onions, and hot sauce rolled up in them.

 1 loaf cheap bread
 1 jar cheap peanut butter
 1 jar cheap pickles
 1 package cheap tortillas

Money remaining: $26.00

And now for one of the most important food items you will ever purchase, the one that makes it worth getting out of bed in the morning and struggling through yet another grueling day of horrible, drudge-filled existence -- tater tots. Oh, the unallayed joy a pan of hot tater tots baked to a crisp, golden brown can bring. They go with everything, even other potatoes. They can be dipped in ketchup, mustard, or -- for an added thrill -- steak sauce. If I were John Steinbeck, I would have written a novel entitled "The Tater Tots Of Wrath." If I were Martin Scorcese, I would have directed a movie called "Raging Tater Tots." If I were the Beatles, my first single would have been "I Wanna Hold Your Tater Tots."

 2 large bags house brand tater tots
 1 large bottle cheap ketchup
 1 large bottle cheap mustard
 1 small bottle cheap steak sauce

Money remaining: $16.50

Gasp...give me a moment to catch my breath here. Okay, now we must have beverages. Especially the ones that I'm addicted to because they have caffeine in them.

 1 large can house brand 100% Colombian coffee
 2 family-sized boxes Lipton teabags

That's it for beverages. If it ain't coffee, tea, or milk, then it isn't worth whatever you have to shell out for it. And water is cheap.

Money remaining: $7.50

Wow! Look at all the cool foodstuffs we've bought for the month, and we still have some money left over! Now all we have to do is head for the checkout and -- uh-oh. Don't look! Avert your gaze! Rats...too late. It's -- the deli section. The place where they have crispy, spicy, marinated chicken tenders...juicy barbecued sausage on a stick...luscious mashed potatoes and gravy...impossibly cheesy macaroni-and-cheese...potato salad like Mom used to make...oh...drool...

Money remaining: $1.00

Well, that's it. We made it to the checkout with enough food for a month (well, sorta) for a hundred bucks, and a dollar left over. If we can just ignore all the impulse items they put here to scoop up your last remaining -- what's this? A DVD of "Bela Lugosi Meets A Brooklyn Gorilla" for only a buck? I'LL TAKE IT!

PORFLE PRESENTS: "THE VIN DIESEL HOLIDAY SPECIAL"

In joyous celebration of this wonderful season, join us now for a classic television treasure from the Hallowed Hall of Fictitious TV Favorites...The Vin Diesel Holiday Special!




(FADE-IN to a stage ornately trimmed with Christmas decorations. Festive Christmas music wafts through the studio.)



ANNOUNCER: (brightly) Pour yourself some egg nog, snuggle up with your Miss or Mister under the mistletoe, and get ready for a blast of high-octane Christmas cheer that'll knock your ass into your hat! Move over Santa, because here comes the one...the only...VIN DIESEL!!!



(Vin bursts onto the stage with a huge grin and trots up to the microphone to mild applause. He slips on some fake snow and lands flat on his back, hard, knocking the wind from his lungs and painfully bruising his tailbone. The audience gasps. Two stagehands rush out to help him up. Vin limps to the microphone, wincing in pain as he tries to smile. There is scattered laughter.)


VIN: Oops! Heh, heh...I guess I zigged when I shoulda zagged, huh?



(Vin waits for the audience to laugh. There is utter silence.)



VIN: Well...heh, heh...welcome to my Christmas special.



AUDIENCE MEMBER: (shouting) What about Hanukkah, you anti-Semitic bastard?



VIN: Oh...oh, yeah. I guess I should call it my "holiday" special. Yeah, that's it. Welcome to my holiday special.



AUDIENCE MEMBER: (shouting) What about Kwanzaa?



VIN: I don't think he's on the show. Anyway, I tried to book some really, really big-name guests, but they were all busy from Christmas shopping and dental appointments and their dogs dying and stuff like that. So I'm really sorry that tonight's guests aren't all that great. But we're still gonna have a lotta fun! Right, everybody? Yay!



(Vin makes a "raising the roof" gesture with his hands. The audience is non-responsive. He lowers his hands sheepishly and limps over to his desk, which sits next to a plush chair and a couch. Vin winces in pain as he sits down, then smiles brightly.)



VIN: And now for my first guest. You're gonna love this guy...he's "da bomb." Ladies and gentlemen...one of the stars of "Friends"...Mr. David Schwimmer!



(The audience applauds. No one appears for a long moment. Finally, David Schwimmer emerges from backstage and approaches the desk with a dour look on his face. Vin extends his hand but David pointedly ignores it and sits down, glowering at him.)



VIN: My man, it's really great to have you here on my Chris--uhh, my holiday special. So, what have you been up to these--



DAVID SCHWIMMER: Hey, F(BEEP) YOU--ASSH(BEEP)!



(The audience gasps. Vin looks at him, visibly shocked.)



VIN: Yo, dude...that's not very, like, in the holiday spirit...



DAVID SCHWIMMER: So I'm not a "great" guest, huh? I'm a disappointment to your viewers? You had to SETTLE for me? Well, let me tell you something, you chrome-dome moron. All those "great" guests you tried to get on the show didn't have Christmas shopping or dental appointments or dead dogs keeping them from being here. They just didn't want to be on your stupid show with you, stupid. You know why? Because you're lame, that's why. The only reason I'm here is because I felt sorry for you, but that was before the "not so great" crack. Now, as far as I'm concerned, you can ROT IN HELL!!!



VIN: So...have you finished your Christmas shopping yet?



DAVID SCHWIMMER: I hope you fry like a piece of fatty bacon for F(BEEP)ING eternity. I really do.



VIN: Yeah, that last-minute Christmas shopping can be a real--



DAVID SCHWIMMER: I'm a Jew--DUMBASS!!! I don't go Christmas shopping!



VIN: Okay...well, folks, David has to run now. He has an important thing that he has to go do--



DAVID SCHWIMMER: No, I don't. I'm staying right here. I'm going to make sure that you suffer through every single second of your stupid, boring, anti-Semitic "Christmas" special.



VIN: It's a "holiday" special, David. It's, err, all-inclusive.



DAVID SCHWIMMER: So, where's the menorah? I see a Christmas tree. I see a stupid plastic Santa and some stuffed reindeer. And, oh look, there are some stupid elves making toys.



VIN: Those are Jewish midgets. They're making...uhh...dradles. And Matzoh balls.



(David Schwimmer glares dumbfounded at Vin, slowly shaking his head in disbelief. Vin takes advantage of the lull in order to move the show along.)



VIN: Ha ha, that was a great story, David. And now, here's the part of the show where I get to demonstrate one of my little-known talents...my singing ability.



DAVID SCHWIMMER: Oh, my god.



(Vin strolls to centerstage, still limping in pain, and sits on a stool that has been placed next to the microphone as a lush musical intro begins.)



VIN: Here's a Christmas...I mean, Hannukah carol I wrote just for all of you. It's called "Havin' a Holly Jolly...uh, Hanukkah."



(The lights go down as a spotlight hits Vin. The music swells jauntily.)



VIN: Oh, the sleigh bells are ringin'

And the carolers are singin'

And the, uhh...bagels are roastin' on an open fire



Havin' a holly jolly Hanukkah

Just me and my girlfriend...uhh, Monica

We're waitin' by the chimney because

It's time for jolly old Rabbi Claus



And on the mantlepiece we leave a treat

Some gefilte fish and milk for him to eat...



DAVID SCHWIMMER: You have got to be F(BEEP)ING kidding me!



VIN: Hey man, that's not cool. I didn't interrupt you when you were talking about Christmas shopping.



DAVID SCHWIMMER: ARRRRGGGHHH!!! YOUR MOTHER (unintelligible)!!!



VIN: YO, THAT IS NOT COOL, MAN!!!



(David and Vin both leap to their feet and confront each other at center stage, pounding their chests together and growling in rage. Stagehands converge on them quickly and pull them apart just as they're about to engage in fisticuffs. The pre-recorded musical backing for Vin's song continues. Their arms restrained by the stagehands, Vin and David begin trying to kick each other.)



DAVID SCHWIMMER: (being dragged offstage) YOU (BEEP) OF A (BEEP)(BEEP)!!!



VIN: OH, YEAH!!! I HATED "FRIENDS"!!! IT WAS A GAY SHOW!!!



AUDIENCE MEMBER: (shouting) You homophobic bastard!



VIN: SHUT THE F(BEEP) UP!!!



(The audience gasps. Vin, realizing that he has lost control of the show, composes himself and smiles sheepishly.)



VIN: Well, that was a funny skit, huh? Ha, ha. Isn't my buddy David a card? We goof around like that all the time. And now for my next guest. If you were a fan of "Full House", you'll recognize her as one of the cutest twins in the whole wide world. Here she is...Mary Kate Olsen!



(The audience applauds. Mary Kate Olsen storms angrily onto the stage and kicks Vin in the balls. Vin doubles over and vomits.)



VIN: (groaning) What the (BEEP) was that for?



MARY KATE: What's the big idea of booking me on the show and not Ashley? Are you really that cheap? Are you really that big of a (BEEP) (BEEP) (BEEP)???



VIN: (still groaning) Hey, you look exactly alike. What's the point of having the both of you on the show? We could just do a friggin' split-screen or something...oww...



MARY KATE: (stalking off-stage) I HATE YOU!!! I HATE YOU!!!



VIN: (trying to straighten up) Holy (BEEP), what a crazy bitch...



AUDIENCE MEMBER: (shouting) You misogynistic bastard!



VIN: LOOK, I'VE HAD JUST ABOUT ENOUGH OF YOU F(BEEP)IN' ASSH(BEEP)S!!! F(BEEP) YOU!!!



(The audience gasps in shock, then begins to boo loudly and throw debris. Vin doubles his fists and begins to shake uncontrollably, his face contorted in a grimace of rage.)



VIN: OH, YEAH? THAT'S THE WAY YOU WANT IT? OKAY, YOU ASKED FOR IT! SAY HELLO TO MY FINAL GUEST...CARROT TOP!!!



(There's a moment of shocked silence, followed by ear-piercing shrieks of terror. Carrot Top emerges briskly from backstage with a large bag of props, making funny faces and playing with his hair as he saunters up to the microphone. People begin to wail and lament and rend their garments as in the Old Testament. Vin rubs his hands together with an evil laugh as Carrot Top reaches into his bag and pulls out a dinner plate with a windshield wiper on it.)



CARROT TOP: Here's something to cut your dishwashing time in half! You wash it, it wipes itself! Speaking of which...



(He reaches into his bag and pulls out a baby doll with a windshield wiper on its ass. People begin to keel over. Others flee the theater, screaming.)



VIN: (maniacally) EAT IT!!! EAT IT RAW, YOU SCUM-SUCKING AUDIENCE!!!



(Fade out to jolly Christmas music and dancing elves.)



ANNOUNCER: Well...that sucked.
 
 
 
(originally posted at Andersonvision.com)

PORFLE'S CHRISTMAS BUMMER

I never tried to wait up for Santa Claus on Christmas Eve when I was a kid, because my parents told me that if Santa came by and I was still awake, he would skip our house.  This filled me with a terror unlike any I'd ever known, except for the time I saw those photographs of Larry King posing nude on the hood of a '57 Studebaker.  The idea of Santa skipping my house on Christmas Eve was the worst thing imaginable.  So, I dutifully trundled off to bed and lay awake for hours, listening for sleigh bells even though it was 68 degrees outside.

After I found out there wasn't any Santa Claus, I realized that my parents had told me that just so they'd have time to set up all my toys in the livingroom for Christmas morning.  It dawned on me that parents tell their kids all sorts of lies during the holiday season.  I guess they aren't really sinister lies or anything, but they're enough to warp a kid's mind. 

For one thing, there's that "naughty or nice" crap.  I used to go around being good as much as possible because I was convinced Santa was watching my every move, judging my behavior and rating my toy-worthiness.  Every time I did something bad, images of coal in my stocking or a bundle of switches under the Christmas tree instead of toys filled me with a dark, paralyzing dread.  One which, needless to say, my parents were quick to capitalize upon. 

"You'd better straighten up," they'd warn, "or Santa Claus will bring you a bundle of switches this Christmas."  I could imagine all the other kids playing with their cool toys on Christmas day, like pedal cars you could ride in or a machine that made real snow cones, and me sitting there like a leper with my bundle of switches, wailing and gnashing my teeth in Old Testament despair.

And then there were the lies your parents told just to mess with your head.  Once I leapt out of bed on Christmas morning and my mom was standing at the door to the livingroom, peering through the crack.  "Santa Claus is in there!" she whispered hoarsely.  I ran to look in, but then she said, "Too late, he just left."  I kicked myself for years over that one, devastated that I'd missed out on an actual Santa sighting by mere seconds.  The psychological torment was almost unbearable. 

Nowadays, Christmas comes and goes and I barely even give a rat's ass.  I'm not a drinker anymore, but every once in a while I'll buy a bottle of booze and a six-pack of Bud and get loaded on Christmas Eve just so I can simulate the old Christmas spirit in kind of a vague, melancholy way.  I stay up as late as I jolly well please now because Santa has been skipping my house since I was a kid anyway, so who the hell cares.  So I get bombed and pass out, and the only sleigh bells I hear are the ones clanging inside my skull the next morning. 

I really did think Santa Claus had come to visit me one Christmas Eve a few years ago, but it was just Wilford Brimley asking if he could use my phone.  I told him he could come in if he acted like Santa Claus and said "Ho ho ho" and stuff, and maybe left me a present or two.  I thought he was going to pull a gun on me or something.  He did eat all my cookies and drink up all my milk while he was on the phone, which was kind of Santa-like.  "I left you a present in the john," he said on his way out.  "Ho ho ho."  When I found out what it was, that bundle of switches started looking pretty good.

(originally posted at Andersonvision.com)

PORFLE VS. SANTA CLAUS

A couple of years ago I thought it would be a really nifty idea to interview Santa Claus.  Not even Playboy had ever scored a sit-down with the "Big Red Cheese" himself!  So I put on my warmest jacket and two pairs of sweat pants, and set off for the North Pole.  Six months later, after much arduous traveling that had left me physically and emotionally drained, I was in Butte, Montana.  It soon became obvious that I would have to purchase a map of some kind. 

While on my way to the nearest gas station, I happened to pass a department store with a sign in the window that said "Visit Santa Claus Here, 6:00-9:00 p.m."  I was elated beyond words!  Instead of having to go to the North Pole to see Santa, he had come right to me!  But why, I wondered briefly, was Santa Claus hanging around in Butte, Montana?  This thought soon evaporated as I scampered inside the store and followed the long line of little kids who were also there to see Santa.

Taking advantage of my superior weight and dexterity as a grown-up, I shoved the kids at the head of the line back and stepped in front of them as they sprawled on the floor in a heap, crying.  The little girl in Santa's lap was just finishing up, so I dislodged her with my foot and sat down.  Santa winced and regarded me with dismay.  "Hey, you're not--"

"Here's what I want for Christmas, Santa," I interrupted.  "An exclusive interview.  And I won't take no for an answer because I've been traveling six months to get here, been married and divorced twice along the way, invented Silly Putty, and accidentally taken part in a plot to overthrow Fidel Castro.  So you'd better cooperate or I'll throw a fit the likes of which you've never seen."

"Okay, okay," he said wearily.  "Let's get this over with." 

"Oh, goody!" I squealed in giddy delight, jumping up and down in his lap as he groaned audibly.  Then I turned on my tape recorder and began the interview.



PORFLE:  So, you're Santa Claus.

SANTA CLAUS:  That's right!  Ho, ho, ho!

PORFLE:  I have a question I've always wanted to ask you.

SANTA CLAUS:  Fire away!  Ho, ho--

PORFLE:  How come the rich kids always get the best toys?

SANTA CLAUS:  Ho, ho...huh?  What are you talking about?

PORFLE:  Well, when I was growing up, this rich kid down the street always got a buttload of big, expensive toys for Christmas.  He'd play with them out in his front yard and laugh at us, and then smash them all with a sledgehammer and set them on fire.  And all us other kids always wondered why you liked him better than us.

SANTA CLAUS:  No, no, it's not that.  See, your parents just couldn't afford to pay for the really expensive toys, and--

PORFLE:  Wait, my parents had to pay for the toys?  I thought you gave them away for free!

SANTA CLAUS:  It's...err...complicated.  You wouldn't understand.  Ho, ho ho!

PORFLE:  Cut the crap, Santa!  You're just a big fraud!

SANTA CLAUS:  Am not!

PORFLE:  Then how come my parents had to pay for--

SANTA CLAUS:  BECAUSE I DON'T REALLY EXIST!!!  THERE!!!  HAPPY NOW???

(awkward silence)

PORFLE:  You don't really exist?

SANTA CLAUS:  Well, not technically.  I mean, I'm here, of course--that's obvious.  But I don't really live at the North Pole, and I don't really have a bunch of elves who make toys for all the good little boys and girls.

PORFLE:  And what about the reindeer?  The flying reindeer?

SANTA CLAUS:  What do you think?  Listen to what you just said.  "The flying reindeer."  Heh.

PORFLE:  So, who are you really?

SANTA CLAUS:  I'm Fred Lipschitz.  I sell life insurance.  I'm a member of the local Rotary Club, and I like to fish.  Every Christmas I dress up like Santa Claus and the store pays me to sit here and listen to what little kids want for Christmas so their parents can eavesdrop and know what to get them.

PORFLE:  So...it's all just a big capitalistic confidence scam!

SANTA CLAUS:  Yeah, but the kids love it.


Shocked beyond words by this horrific revelation, I turned off the tape recorder and stood up, regarding the big, fat faker through a veil of bitter tears.  I had drawn pictures of him with my crayolas!  I had left cookies and milk for him to eat during his rounds!  I had watched the "Charlie Brown Christmas Special" a hundred times and cried every time! 

"You BAST**D!!!" I screamed with accusatory rage.  Then I turned around to warn all those other gullible kids who were even now lining up like lemmings to fall for Fred Lipschitz's dastardly deception.  "HE'S A FAKE!  There is no Santa Claus!  This is just some fat guy the store hired to fool you!  THERE IS NO SANTA CLAUS!!!  THERE IS NO--"

Suddenly, I found myself being pursued through the store by a mob of angry parents!  Parents who were in on the deception and would not tolerate the truth being revealed, exposing their shameful complicity in this heinous scam!  "THERE IS NO SANTA CLAUS!!!" I continued to scream out at passing children as I ran for my life, desperately seeking an escape route!

Reaching a side door, I bolted outside and into traffic.  Drivers slammed on their brakes and weaved haphazardly to keep from hitting me as I lurched from car to car, banging on the windows and shrieking at the occupants at the top of my lungs.  "LISTEN TO ME!!!  THERE IS NO SANTA CLAUS!!!"  I pointed at my angry pursuers, who were making their way toward me through the passing cars.  "SEE?  THEY'RE HERE ALREADY!!!  THEY'RE COMING FOR US!!!  YOU'RE NEXT!!!  YOU'RE NEXT!!!"

Later, at the police station, I tried to explain all of this to the psychiatrist, but to no avail.  Shaking his head dubiously at my admittedly outlandish account, he spoke in a low tone to the police chief.  "This man is obviously insane," I could hear him say.  "No Santa Claus, parents buying Christmas toys for their children..."  He scoffed.  "It's one of the most extreme cases of advanced 'coo-coo' I've ever seen."

The police chief nodded and summoned two officers to take me away.  Just then, another officer raced into the room and handed him a report that had just come in.  "Smash-up on the expressway, Chief," he said breathlessly.  "An SUV and a station wagon.  Two couples...parents.  Claimed they'd just been 'Christmas shopping' for their kids.  Darndest thing...both vehicles were filled with these...well, it may sound crazy, but they looked like...well, like...toys."

The police chief and the psychiatrist gasped in unison, then gaped at me in wide-eyed astonishment.  "Get on the radio to all patrol cars!" the chief bellowed.  "Tell them to stop all vehicles with parents in them and search for toys!  Repeat--STOP ALL PARENTS AND SEARCH FOR TOYS!!!"

As they scrambled into action, I leaned back wearily against a wall.  Maybe it wasn't too late.  Maybe I'd made a difference.  And maybe, just maybe...Fred Lipschitz and the Dollar General Store of Butte, Montana would be held accountable for their dastardly crimes against humanity.


(originally posted at Andersonvision.com)

PORFLE PRESENTS: "MY OLD-FASHIONED, TRADITIONAL CHRISTMAS"

If you're like me, you remember a time when Christmas really meant something special and seemed to fill you with a warm, comforting glow if you got drunk enough. Here's my fond, fading memory of one of those special yuletide days of Christmas Past. It was way back around 2008 or thereabouts, so I may have to make up parts of it that have been lost in time...

On Christmas Eve, as per tradition, I hung my stockings by the chimney with care, in hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there. Actually, I don't have a fireplace, so I hung my stockings in front of the fireplace of a guy down the street who has one. He was already asleep at the time so I had to break in, but I'm sure he wouldn't have minded because I waved at him once a few years ago and he waved back. And, come to think of it, they weren't really stockings, exactly. In fact, they were live chihuahuas.



Earlier, I had devised a really neat harness for hanging chihuahuas in a safe and relatively painless manner, and instead of a rope or chain, they were suspended by springs so that they would constantly bob up and down. So the more they barked and struggled to get away, the more they would bounce up and down with a funny "boing-boing" sound. One of the chihuahuas had on a little Santa hat that I had made for him, and the rest of them were wearing reindeer antlers. (These, I must admit, were store-bought, because I just couldn't get the hang of making chihuahua-sized reindeer antlers that looked realistic.) I had also made some really cool huge, bulging, googly eyeballs for them to wear like glasses, and giant froth-dripping wolf fangs that fit over their own teeth.



And to top it off, I hid a tape recorder next to them which emitted, on a continous loop, at ear-splitting volume levels, the words, "WHY have you disturbed our sleep? Awakened us from our ancient slumber? YOU WILL DIE!!! One by one we will come for you, HA HA HA, WE WILL COME FOR YOU!!!" I'm not sure how St. Nicholas reacted to this display, but I saw an ambulance pull up at the house later on and take my neighbor away. I sure hope they had eggnog for him at the hospital, because Christmas without eggnog is like the Fourth of July without blowing up someone's car with a home-made pipe bomb or Halloween without chopping down telephone poles.



New Year's Eve was pretty fun, too. I invited a bunch of people over to my house and then went to the movies. While I was there I called the police and told them I was my neighbor and that I could see a bunch of people in my house while I wasn't at home, and the police came and arrested them all. I would've felt bad about doing this except that in my town, anyone who is in jail on New Year's Eve gets a free Dixie cup of Mountain Dew and a popcorn ball. And later on, I admitted to my friends what I had done and that it had all just been a funny, good-natured joke, and we all had a good laugh about it while they were beating me with baseball bats and setting fire to my priceless record collection.




(originally posted at Andersonvision.com)