Kyle Plays Santa…Kind Of.

24 Dec

“Did I lie to the children? Did I deceive them? In the strictest interpretations of the words ‘lie’ and ‘deceive,’ I in fact did. I absolutely lied to to those kids,” I say.

“Oh come on,” My friend Derek says from across the table. “It’s not really a lie, you were doing it for a good cause. Think of it as a game.”

“Was it a game a few years ago when I did the same thing to you?”

“Wait, when did you do the same thing to me?”

“I dressed up like your dad and went to your last three or four cross country meets.”

“That was you?!”

“Yea, that was me. Funny thing, I think I even used the same voice.”

“Is that why I had to pay for dinner?”

“Yes.”

“I thought it was weird that my dad wanted to be dropped off at my friend Kyle’s house.”

I shrug my shoulders and put my hands in an “I don’t know,” gesture.

“Where was my dad?”

“It doesn’t matter. See, the spirit of your dad was there the whole time. The body of your dad, though, was either hung over to hell or at home watching Hunt For the Red October.”

“You’re the devil.”

“I know.”

Tuesday I dressed up in a Santa suit and gave out presents to a day care center my friend’s children attend. It was a pretty good time. When I got to my friend Cecil’s house, the suit was already laid out. There was the standard jacket, pants, and hat combo, a beard and matching wig, a belt, and some big black boots. I had to get make up put on my eyebrows and cheeks to diminish the youthful zest of my eyes. I got suited up and looked at myself in the mirror. Here’s a photograph:

Ah crap. No, not that.

Here. Oh, never mind, the joke's ruined.

Screw it. Merry Christmas.

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