Friday, December 7, 2007

Santa Comes to a Realization...

The Fat Bastard replied to me again. It seems we're coming to an understanding. Here's what he wrote:
Dear Bildo.

It's a sad state of affairs when you confuse your wife's toe with your Meat of the Month delivery, alas, I'm guilty of making that very mistake. On a happier note, sauteed with some onions, mushrooms and gravy, the little digit...Ho ho ho! Who am I kidding? You and I both know there's nothing little about my wife! Her BIG toe (was it her 'big' toe?) was absolutely delicious! My wife has never tasted so good! Let's make a deal. You just might find an Xbox 360 in your stocking this Christmas if you can keep those tasty treats coming.

Merry Christmas,
Santa Claws.

P.S. Thanks for the word of advice about the reindeer. I'll give them some of Santa's special eggnog tonight before showing them how much I love them.
The understanding I previously referred to, is that apparently he loves to eat his wife as much as I love to cut her to pieces*.

Here then, is my reply to you, Loafing Child Stalker.

Dearest Hannibal Claws,

I am ever so glad to discover that you've found some use for your wife's chubby little digit. Lord knows what else she's good for. I shall acquiesce to your request and send more tasty little nuggets of spousal goodness just as soon as I am able. The trouble you see, is that I am unsure where the old hag has gotten to.

During one of my rituals of worship to the Metal (Tenacious D FTW), the bitty seems to have escaped. She can't have gotten far, and I'm sure if I lay a trail of Elfin Fudge cookies she'll make her way back happily. When she does, rest assured that I'll lop a few of those piggies off and FedEx them just as quick as I can.

I am very glad that we've come to a agreeable stance on this whole issue. It'll be very nice to have my Wii60 complete this year. The only thing that troubles me about the whole ordeal, is that your missus seems to enjoy it when I loose her toes from their home. I am not quite sure what to think of this, other than the fact that she must be a freak in bed. Not that I'm going to find out, mind you, as I'd be fairly uncertain where to... um, place myself. Not sure what's a nook or a cranny, and what's a gully hole if you catch my drift.

Anyway, I must go lay the trap for her.

With greatest satisfaction and happiness,


*For the love of all that is pure in this world, please readers understand I am joking on these posts. Just a bit of fun for Christmas in a different way than you might be used to.

1 comment:

Aaron Miller said...

You're a sick man. Keep 'em coming. =)