Thursday, December 24, 2015

The Jeremy Crow Christmas Countdown 2015 #2


Meanwhile back in Washington DC: The president sits back in his chair, and all you can see is his feet up on the desk beside the mountain of cheeseburgers, and all the cigarette smoke that fills the office. The creepiest looking man you ever did see is pacing back and forth in front of the desk looking worried. “Listen Rahm, just sit down, have a cigarette and a couple of burgers, by the time the wife realizes that she went on a wild penguin chase, she’ll never have enough time to get back here and smell the cigarettes all over us and make us eat vegan crap.”

“That’s not what I am worried about Barack, I’ve read all of those stupid Jeremy Crow blogs and nobody has been able to keep Santa from giving out toys,” he stops and looks around, “I am expecting something horrible to happen any minute now, how can you be so calm?”

The president stands up from his chair, and you can barely see his head over the pile of cheeseburgers, “Because, I have been plotting this from the day my mother lied to me and told me there was no Santa Claus after I didn’t get that GI Joe I wanted for Christmas!” and he cackled an evil laugh, “First win the Whitehouse, then kidnap Santa and ruin Christmas for everyone! I will not be denied!” and then he got a little weaker in voice, “I just had to worry about that idiot Superdaddyman and Michelle, both of which spoil all my fun.”

Rahm walks over to the door to Bill Clinton’s secret room and opens it up to see Santa and Superdaddyman chained to the wall with ball gags in their mouths, “Who knew this room would come in handy some day? I still think we should have washed that stuff before we used it on those two,” daggers came back at him from the glare of Santa, who is getting really sick of this crap.

“Relax Rahm, the tracker on Air Force One says that they are still at the South Pole, and we are only two hours away from midnight,” the fiendish grin that could only belong to Obama or the Grinch crosses his face, “Besides, this is the Whitehouse! That was the key to the plan, because nobody can get in here and spoil my plans!”

An alarm goes off throughout the Whitehouse causing the President to knock his cheeseburgers off the desk as he looks at the perimeter alarm console. “Something has violated the airspace around the Whitehouse!”

Ok let me take control of this story again, since you are probably really confused right now. Of course you are probably more confused as I explain this sitting in a big red sleigh that flew in behind nine angry as all hell looking reindeers who at the moment are beating the snot out of a bunch of guys in black suits, who apparently weren’t in on the Santa Claus secret either. It really does take the fight out of them don’t it, when tattooed reindeer led by the baddest mo with a red nose are going all Christmas cheer on their asses. They all surrender immediately when they see something far more frightening getting out of the sleigh, a pissed off first lady, “Where is my $%^&ing husband?!”

Yeah when we figured out what was going on at the South Pole we were even more shocked to realize that Joe Biden of all people had figured it out before we did. He had called the North Pole, and recruited the fastest mode of transportation, and coincidentally the toughest mercenaries going. I gave up on thinking I was losing my mind when he and the sleigh showed up to pick us up. It wasn’t as comfortable as Air Force One but damn it was quick. As I hop out of the sleigh on the front lawn of the Whitehouse, I can see that the President had a backup plan, which was almost as diabolical as mine. Rows of nitrile glove wearing TSA agents started flowing out of the Whitehouse blocking our way, rifles drawn. I turned around and decided to reveal my super power that I didn’t even know I had until an hour or so ago, “GET EM!”

In the blink of an eye thousands of penguins storm out of the sleigh, I am still amazed at how much that thing can hold, and like an army of angry ghosts I saw in this documentary called “Return of the King” the penguins stormed through all of the TSA agents as if they were made of paper. I never thought I would see TSA agents getting a little of the pat down themselves, but I can imagine the TSA agents never imagined that they would be outnumbered ten to one by psychotic penguins who show no fear either. The scene was cleared in a matter of minutes and just as quickly the penguins were standing in front of my like an army waiting for more orders from me. Yes apparently I am a penguin whisperer.

“You have done your job well,” I praised them, as they bowed before me, “As tribute you may storm the castle and steal all the remote controls and one sock from every pair in there,” they looked at me as if I had forgotten something, “Oh and of course turn the volume up on all the televisions and radios!” With that the penguins disappeared into the Whitehouse, and I never saw them again.

I started walking toward the entrance and I felt a hand on my arm, “You’ve done well young super villain turned super hero, but stay behind me while I show you MY super powers,” and Michelle looked at her watch, which read 11:05, “Well this should take five minutes and then I can give you and Santa a tour of the Whitehouse and some tomatoes from my window garden before you go.”

The President probably won’t be seen in public for a while. The beating he took for kidnapping Santa was nothing compared to being caught smoking and eating half his body weight in cheeseburgers. He was still running around his office spraying two cans of Lysol when we got there, and you could still smell all the cigarettes I mean they guy has a death wish. He was no better off when Santa kicked him in the nuts either. I don’t even know what that smell coming off my husband was being chained up with all of Bill Clinton’s sex toys. I held up my hand when he tried to hug and kiss me and said, “Not until you get a very long shower and wash your mouth out with Listerine for a few days,” and he seemed to take it well. I mean my mind can go there and all but that smell alone was from somewhere a lot further than there.

Santa of course offered to drop us off on his way, and when I asked him if he was going to give the penguins a ride, he reminded me that they can teleport, like everyone didn’t already know that. Fortunately the ride home was about a minute, considering that the South Pole was an hour, I think Santa must drive like an old person. The dog of course was howling behind the door because she had to pee, so my husband hopped out to go deal with that, when Santa stopped me, “He ain’t the sharpest knife in the drawer but he does adore you.”

I laughed for the first time that day and replied, “I know that, or I wouldn’t have gone along with all of this. Merry Christmas Santa and you’ll understand if I hope I never see you again,” and with that the sleigh hopped into the air, and as it was flying away, I was half expecting Santa to yell something like he always seems to in the stories of him. Instead I was left standing in a stench that smelled like it came from my dog, and realized that one of the reindeer farted. I can’t get away from my husband’s exploits or his sick friends. Oh well.