One week before Christmas, my mother arranged for me to play Santa Claus at her friends’ toy store.
I was bigger then, maybe 325 pounds. I was built like Santa, with red cheeks, and a hearty smile.
She mentioned that her friends were gay men, which didn’t bother me at all. At that time, I thought she meant they were happy. Their Santa suit was top-notch, with a realistic beard, and a thick shiny belt holding up my red pants.
Jerry, one of the owners, said I looked incredible. He showed me the aluminum deck chair, where I should sit, and, as I walked towards it, he patted my butt. As I sat down, I was wondering why he did that, and immediately the chair collapsed under my weight. I fell flat on my back, crushing the chair. Kindly, Jerry helped me up, and said, “Don’t worry, we’ll get one that’s stronger.”
A kid standing there with his mom said, “Mom, Santa just crushed that chair.”
I said, “Ho, Ho, Ho! What do you want for Christmas, little boy?”
He said, “I want a basketball, a G. I. Joe, and a big vibrator.”
I said, “You want a what!?”
He said that he’d heard his mom tell somebody on the phone that what she really needed for Christmas was a big vibrator.
One mother pulled her kid off my lap, and she sat down. She smiled and asked, “What does Santa want for Christmas?”
She was as big as Santa. For fear of another chair collapse, I asked her to please get up–the chair couldn’t take the pressure. I think she was offended, but she understood. My thirty dollars pay was well earned that day. I was a great Santa.
Ho, Ho, Ho, Merry Christmas!