The War on Christmas, v. 2022, Part 4 of 4

You better not pout, you damn well can't cry

I was starting to wonder if the reindeer lost power and Santa had met an untimely end.

After all, Santa had been trying to improve the aerodynamics on his reindeer fleet all year.

I texted Jesus, but figured he might be busy since it was already December 23rd. So I also sent a text to Santa with this picture so he’d know things were getting rather dire.

It doesn’t get more Santa than this guy:

(Note: This is a Master woodcrafter and model photographer in eastern Tennessee. Michael Miller is a good friend that Marlene introduced me to. I’ll gladly introduce you if you’re trying to build a portfolio.)

Within an hour there was a knock at my door. The cavalry was here!

I welcomed them in and gave them all hot cocoa. I was startled when someone else started knocking.

I had to admit it really took some balls to wear this. Jesus rolled his eyes and introduced me to Mary MagJolene.

I made them all breakfast and filled them in on the situation.

They all were visibly irritated when they saw this:

But Jesus cried “BLASPHEMY!” when he saw this one.

We headed out. I first encountered an old version of myself as a Deadhead and tried to break it to him/me easy: “Don't go this far man. Or you could end up in a box of rain.”

He was the neighbor that tried to sell me on putting pineapple on pizza. “What could possibly go wrong"?” he’d asked. Now looky here dood.

I just wanted an old-fashioned Christmas like the one with my grandsons in 2013 when we had a tree and Kermit. Even though Kermit disappeared mysteriously.

We were unstoppable as we launched our day long counter offensive. Sadly, we did take some casualties. Bing and Jimmy and Donna Reed are gone. But I did hear some bells ring, so I’m sure they got their wings.

We got a little bloody, too, just enough to bleed over into the last thing you needed.

Part 5. Yeah, I know. But hey, wars can be like that. I promise you, there’ll be no more after that. No more adeste infidels. No more horrible puns.


(This is the finale, next…)