Saturday, December 1, 2018

A call to Billy


“Hello?”
“Hello, is this 1245 Kingston Way?”
“Yes, who is calling?”
“ I’d like to speak to Billy. This is Santa.”
“Sure…. I’ll get him.”
“Thank you.”
“B-I-L-L-Y? The phone is for you!!”
(Who was that guy? He sounded old. Better check Billy’s social media contacts.)
“Hello?”
“Is this Billy? Billy Bumerstein?”
“Yeah sure…. Who is this?”
“This is Santa”
“Santa?”
“You know…. The guy who comes down the chimney…. have the reindeer sleigh…Ho Ho Ho.”
“Sure…. What do you want with me?”
“Well, Billy, I’ve got some bad news for you this year and I didn’t want to wait until the 25th for you to find out.”
“What’s that ole fat man?”
“Well, Billy. It seems you’ve been naughty this year.”
“So?”
“Billy, there will be no toys this year.”
“That is a hoot old guy. Are you selling insurance? I’m not giving you my credit card number. I’m no fool. This is a roo-boo call and I’m not falling for it.”
“Sorry Billy, but there will be no toys under the tree this year. If you keep this up maybe never again?”
“This is a good scam you perv and I ain’t buying it. I always get toys. I know you are fake and my mom and dad buy all that loot under the tree and I get plenty…. Every year.”
“Billy”
“?”
“Listen up dude. I’ve got many more on my list to call because I don’t want to answer all those reviews and comments on Santa.com when you kids get nothing. You’ve been on the naughty list for some time and I’ve fudged to get you a Power Ranger or a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle while your folks fought off the authorities trying to reprocess their car and foreclose on your house, but this year you’ve gone too far.”
“What did I do?”
“Do you remember at the pool when you saw Sally climb out and snap her suit bottom?”
“Oh yeah, sure do. That was like awesome. Wait a minute? How did you know what I was thinking?”
“Everyone around the pool knew what you were thinking son.”
“ Those pants were too tight!”
“Well you are old enough to start realizing being naughty doesn’t get you rewards, so there will be no toys this year.”
“Yeah, well what about last year when I rubbed up against Sarah Bingboom’s butt? Boy, that felt good and still I got toys.”
“I know Billy. I’m just catching up on my database now and refreshing my ‘naughty’ and ‘nice’ columns.”
“Hey, that is not my problem you hobo street scum. I want my toys and I want them under the tree so I can take selfies of all my new stuff to impress all my friends and…”
“Sorry, Billy but it won’t be happening this year. I may be able to slip a lump of coal in your stocking but it is a busy night and I’ll probably just pass by.”
“You can’t….”
“Billy; I can. I’m Santa Clause.”
“It’s not even your birthday!!!!!”
“Goodbye Billy and good luck.”
Click
“Mom! The guy on the phone said I wasn’t getting any toys for Christmas because I was naughty. I am getting toys…. Right?”
“Well, Billy. I’ve been meaning to tell you. You’re father will not be coming home tonight. He was picked up by ICE agents and will be deported. Sister won’t be coming home because she ODed in jail. The car was just towed and I’m leaving with your uncle Jack before they clear out the house for demolition to build that new highway. Go down to the corner and see if Mother Zuma can take you in between johns. If not, hang out for a while until the cops find a foster home for you. Good luck kid.”
“Merry Christmas”

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