Papa's Little Christmas Get-out Claus
The Age
Thursday December 13, 2007
It's a dangerous world out there, dear children.
"HOOOOOOOORAH!" cried the little children, running up to their papa and hugging him with great affection and tenderness, "Christmas is coming! It's almost here!" and they both smiled a huge smile, because no other time of year made them happier - not even birthdays, or the time arsonists burned down their portable school classrooms. But Papa hung his head sadly, his jowls swinging with deep lament, "Uhhh, well actually, this Christmas is going to be a little . . . different. See, with home loan interest rates approaching 9%, we can't really afford to go on holidays or do anything special," and the children moaned with disappointment, saying, "Oh foolish Papa, you should've fixed our home loan at 7% like Mama suggested last year." Then they both sighed fondly, because they loved Mama so much more."But Papa," cried the little children, their eyes widening with renewed hope, "Santa's going to still come and visit us, right?" and Papa patted their little heads with an air of painful regret. He said, "Well, uhhhh, that's a problem, too. See, the current view of the Christian Church is that the focus of Christmas should be placed back on the birth of Jesus and not on nonsensical mythical fabrications like Santa Claus." The little children flung up their arms in horror and yelped: "Are you saying Santa is a lie?" and Papa said, "Sadly, yes. And so is the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, and according to Richard Dawkins, Jesus." "But Papa," implored the little children, their cheeks reddening with mounting distress, "we'll still get some Christmas presents, won't we?" and Papa took their sweaty little hands and clutched them mournfully, "Oh dear, this is really quite difficult. Ummmm, I'm afraid lots of toys are contaminated with deadly neuro-toxic substances. Why, just think of the unsafe lead levels that might be lurking, and that poor Mr Potato Head used to smuggle ecstasy pills - they recently found 300 grams jammed up his tiny potato-bottom."The little children stood there speechless, shocked by these tragic revelations, and also trippy because they'd been chewing little playtime beads contaminated with hallucinogenic substances. "But Papa," howled the little children, tears now gushing from their engorged tear glands, "we'll still get yummy chocolates in our Christmas stockings, right?" Papa stepped back a bit so their tears didn't stain his suede desert boots: "U , not this year. Apparently up to 43% of chocolate products sold in Australia are linked to child slavery in West Africa, where small children are forced to pick cocoa in hazardous and abusive conditions". The little children shuddered with self-pity: "But can't we just eat the non-child-enslaving 57% of the chocolates?" Papa said, "No, but you can eat those fair trade chocolates that ensure African cocoa pickers are treated fairly" and the little children said, "No thanks, Papa. Those fair trade chocolates just taste like the African cocoa pickers didn't wash their hands first.""So, Papa," mumbled the little children, their lips a' trembling like a deflating balloon hole, "Will we still have a Christmas tree?" and Papa said, "Sorry, little ones, but the Christmas trees are all dead from the drought and state water restrictions." And the little children said, "Will we still have our annual backyard Christmas barbecue?" and Papa said, "Unfortunately, the Cancer Council says we have to watch out for UVA rays, so this year we'll be eating indoors, huddled in the pantry, wearing these lead radiotherapy aprons." The little children said, "But, Papa, will we still get to eat Christmas ham and plum pudding?" and Papa said, "Look, the Government is worried about the obesity epidemic among Australian children, and I've measured your body mass index - you both exceed the cut-off point for your ages, so no unhealthy food this year, my little chubbers." The children beat their flabby little chests with their trotter-like fists: "Oh, Papa, you're giving us terrible body-image issues," and Papa said, "Sorry kids, but this Christmas, it's just fruit and veg, except I don't want you eating genetically modified crops, so you'll just be getting a plate of water flavoured with essence of fluoride.""Oh, Papa," uttered the little children, feeble and faint, falling to their knees and dry-retching with heartache, "This is going to be the worst Christmas EVER!" and Papa kneeled before them, holding them close, and said, "Listen to me, children. As long as we have each other, as long as we're together, everything will be wonderful, because that's the true spirit of Christmas." The little children stopped weeping, looked into his eyes, and said softly, "Oh, Papa, you're full of crap." Then they kneed him in the Christmas sack.
© 2007 The Age