Just one more thing before we leave this fairyland of
snow and holly.
(for a good time call Holly", 555-1222).
I had the weirdest dream when I was about 13 years old.
It was a hot August night. Not a soul was in sight. They
all went out for "dreamsicles”) – get it, dreamsicles.
I was, uncharacteristically watching television.
Anyway, I think it was a dream.
I mean, it had to be because it was so strange!
Yeah, sure it was. I should know a dream from reality.
Well, as I was trying to explain, (before I was rudely
interrupted by myself.)
The television started getting a little snowy. Then the
snowy screen got more snowy.
All of a sudden, dad’s image popped up through the
snow. Astonishingly, he was wearing a Santa suit! (Do you see
why this had to be a dream?)
Dad said, "I’m talking to you by way of the television
because it's the purest form of communication and you
always have your nose up against the screen, anyway."

"Here's the 'skinny". I am the one and only ,true-blue,
often imitated, never duplicated, jolly old St. Nick.
Me- Who?
Dad- “I'm Santa!” “The reason I act like I hate
Christmas is to hide my true identity.” “ Throw everyone off
my trail, slip 'em a "red herring", so to speak.”
Me- a red what?
Dad - Never mind.
Me -But your Christmas anger
seems so real!
Dad - Well, to be honest, sometimes it is. The stress
can be enormous when you stop and consider PETA on my
butt for reindeer abuse, F.B.I. investigations, Delta Force
raids.
Yeah, I know stress like I know the bottom of a pool
table, (echo), pool table, (more echo), poool taaable, (a heck
of alot of echo).
Dad’s image started getting wavy, wavier, more wavier,
fading, fading out, out, bye bye.
Now, at this point, I thought everything I had just
experienced was real. But, it had to be a dream! Right?
Or,maybe not! Oh, I don't know.