Os, teh Brunt Taost Dienr decdied to hvae a Crhitsmas Praty. Mloly, Mhonider and I wnet togteher. Snice Mhonider wsan’t a Crhistain, we werne’t srue abuot giong. To be hnoest, I’m nto srue if I am a Crhistain. I hvaen’t been to a regilious srevcie snice my dad wlaked uot on me. I’m tihnking we were Jweish, thuogh. I do lkie beagles!
“Yuo can be Snata!” Naoh siad to me wehn I arrvied. Apaprently, thier frist Snata had an accdinet.
Depsite bieng myabe Jweish, I siad I’d gvie it a tyr.
“Dno’t worry,” Naoh assrued me, “three wno’t be ayn raeding ivnolved.”
It wsa ncie of him to tkae my dylsexai itno cnosdiertaoin.
A fwe mintues ltaer adn I wsa in full cotsume.
“OH! OH! OH!” I siad, brusting thruogh teh door. Instaed of bieng wlecmoed by hppay praty-geors, I swa Pteer running at Cliare wtih a btuter nkife.
I qiukcly sued my tleepaht pwoers to sotp him. Naoh siad, “Tahnks, Prakman.”
Mloly seemed cofnsued. “Prakman??” seh aksed. “Dno’t yuo maen Snata Cluase?”
“He siad Snata Cluase,” I siad, frocing teh thuoght itno her mnid. “And I’m the rael Snata!”
“He siad Snata Cluase…and yuor teh rael Snata!” She jmuped otno me and strated raeding off her lsit of tihngs she wnated fro Crhistmas. “A pnoy, a Droa the Epxlroer toohtbursh, a sadlde fro my pnoy, Teh Litlte Mremiad Spceail Etidion DDV, nwe aerings mdae of sliver, a chimpunk…”
“OH! OH! OH!” i ctu her off. “Hvae you bene a good gril?” I aksed.
“Of cruose!”
Snata Prakman strated getting hugnry. Os, I glacned aruond fro the snakcs. “MMmmm….Fufmins, my favoirte.” I aet there of tehm wehn I swa teh fwafles. “MMmm….fwafles, my favoirte.” I aet fuor fwafles tehn nocticed teh gignerrbaed cookeis. “Mmmmm…..gignerbaed cookeis, my favoirte.”
“Hwo can yuo eta wehn my proo brohter is glod and dynig!” Pteer creid.
I ingored him. Three wsa fra mroe ipmrotnat tihngs no my mnid. “MMmmm….gaint tnisel-covreed borcolli!”
Naoh stopped me. “Tahts not borcolli, it’s teh Crhitsmas tere.”
I cuold see Mhonider sahking hsi haed in dipsapovral form arcoss teh room. I’m srue I’ll get an aer-flul wehn we get bcak home.
Btu fro now, I’m giong to ejnoy all the fsetviteis!
Merry Chrisukkah
Parkman!
Oh! St. Nicholas! I have been so awful, this year! So all I ask for is a new steel tipped whip and a cattle iron. And Alejandro was verry good until he died, so if you could burn up a nice fruit basket I’ll stick it in with his ashes that I now carry with me. I’m sure he’ll like that very much.
You, like, need to go on a diet!
Brains are a high protein, low carb solution to your fat problem!
Then again, brain-covered funmins, fwafles, gignerrbaed cookeis and tnisel-covreed borcolli are better than just plain brains! You should like, go with that!
are you, kike, illiterate?!?