Santa Brawl

 

What a Christmas it's been. Eventful, I should say. More eventful than any other Christmas I've had for a long while. A Christmas not easily forgotten I tell you.

I was in a large Department Store, just looking around wondering what to buy my wife as a Christmas present which looks expensive, but it isn't, and yet it is edible; so that if she doesn't like it I can always eat it. I think presents should be edible, don't you think? If it is not edible it is not worth having.

I remember I had a girl-friend who liked shoes, and she liked chocolates too. I could not decide what to get her for her birthday. So I got her a pair of shoes made of chocolates! That got her blonde brain confused! The chocolates tasted good too.

Anyway; back to my story. Stop interrupting me about past girl-friends.

I was in this Department Store and there was a grotto with Father Christmas handing out presents to young customers. I stood there for a while.

Suddenly, he looked at me and shouted, "I know you ... you're going out with my wife!"

Immediately he got up from his seat and rushed at me, almost jumping, as those wrestlers do on TV when they bounce off the rope on the ring, and he hit me hard in the chest as he grabbed my neck.

I fell backwards, knocking down a Christmas tree and a lot of other suspended decorations. We tumbled and rolled round on the floor. The people were all shocked and started gathering their little ones in a panic. Santa held tight at my throat as we rolled backwards and forwards on the floor knocking down more ornaments and shelves with various items on display.

I raised my knee and must have hit him somewhere tender because he let out a shrieky type of cry. But he still help tight at my throat swearing and spitting like a drunken sailor rather than a gentle Santa which he purported to be. 

Eventually, two elves tried to pull us apart but were unsuccessful. They were joined by two burly Security Guards who managed to separate us.

I gasped for breath. I must have hit him hard because he was bleeding from his nose. 

He shouted, "This ***** is going out with my wife!"

"I don't even know who you are," I said as I recovered my composure a little, albeit my heart was beating a million beats a minute, "take off your beard so I know whose wife I've been going out with!"

I know ... this could have been phrased a little better. As it is, it does sound as if I've been going out with multiple wives. Which I haven't, I hasten to say. One wife is enough for me, I tell you. 

I do not believe in multiple relationships, or bigamy. Besides, the penalty for bigamy is two mothers-in-law. 

Santa took off his beard and I still did not recognise him. 

So I said, "I still don't know who you are! More to the point, tell me who is your wife so we can narrow down the possibility of me going out with her!"

I know ... I know ... that came out wrong as well. My mind was all confused and all I was doing is incriminate myself even more.

At this point Fate intervened. This very big and very large and very rotund woman came on the scene.

Had we been on stage in a theatre the stage would have given way a little. Turns out she was his wife. Despite her size I had never seen her before.

Santa tuned round and said to her, "I love you bijou!"

"Bijou?" I thought, "she looks more like a boulder to me!" But I said nothing.

Apparently, she had been meeting the store manager in secret in order to get her husband, (Santa), a particularly expensive present to be given to him at a presentation at the store on Christmas Eve to celebrate his long service as Santa Claus. 

His suspicious mind had thought differently, and having seen me standing there, he somehow mistook me for her boy-friend.

He apologised and I helped him and the elves put up the up-turned Christmas decorations again.

The store manager did the presentation as planned. I wonder why he had a glint in his eye!!!