I’ve pretty much stayed off the bad list


I was telling ole Saint Nick, you know, the Jolly Fat Man himself, that I haven’t gotten what I wanted for the last couple of years and I was kinda, you know, wondering …

What the heck, Dude?

I’ve been good. I’ve stayed off the naughty list. I’ve reached up on the high shelves in the grocery store to help out short people.

And I want to ask about that: Why do they put the much needed stuff high up on the shelves? Is that some sort of hidden exercise plan? Is there a reason for that?

Not that I mind helping, gosh no.

It’s always a pleasure to lend a hand — except for that one time when that older-type person asked me to follow her around and help her with some other objects out of her reach.

I’m not complaining, mind you. I’m not.

It’s just that I was hosting a party and I just ran in to the store to get some …

Well, not really a party. It was a, ummm … Commemorative dinner?

Yeah, a special dinner.

For nuns.

And orphans.

And homeless circus performers.

There was no party involved.

Anyway, I was just in the store to grab some, ummm … Nun treats, stuff they like.

And a thingy of something for orphans.

And popcorn for the circus people.

For the dinner I was having.

To honor them, you know.

But no, never mind. I really didn’t mind following that elderly person around for something like five hours so they could get all the stuff on the high shelves.

And why do they stock all that much needed and sought after stuff up there?

Never mind, not important.

And I always push my grocery cart back inside the store. I know you can leave the things in the cart parking lot and whatnot, but I need the exercise, right?

Plus, my grandmother taught me to always return the carts to the store.

So, as you can see, I have stayed off the naughty list.

Pretty much.

I know there is the music thing.

I know I sometimes turn it up just a notch too much, but it’s … You know, music.

And it’s good music. Any music that has bad language in it I try to avoid, but sometimes I don’t realize a certain song has a bad word in it and, well … It just kinda sneaks up on me.

I mean, I try to listen to The Carpenters — although that lady singer is dead and it makes me real sad to listen to them, especially when I hear her sing, “Why do birds always disappear …” or whatever the words are — and bands like Bread and … Oh yeah, the Osmonds.

See, I’m very mindful of the tunes I play.

And as for the violence in the movies I watch, who could tell?

Reindeer Games? Does that sound violent to you? Sounds all warm and fuzzy and Christmasy to me.

Saving Private Ryan? Now, honestly, does that sound violent? Not at all.

I tell you I was just shocked at the violence in some of these movies.

But I know you understand since it was all an honest mistake that you wouldn’t consider me for the naughty list.

Because Santa’s a good guy.

He wouldn’t hold a grudge.

Because I really am sorry I ate all the cookies that year after I got home late from that part …

Dinner! Yeah, dinner (for some other nuns. And Veterans) that year.

And it was only that one year.

That I remember.

And I know ole Santa would not hold a grudge for changing around that “Night Before Christmas” verse, though:

— “And Santa was grumpy, he was going plains nuts

Spending all that time staring at big reindeer butts” —

That’s just plain funny

Even Mrs. Claus got a kick out of that. I mean, I think she would have if, you know, someone would have told it to her.

Not that I did or anything.

Just sayin’.

So, can I please get what I asked for this year?