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<meta tier="BLACKSITE TRANSMISSION::CHRISTMAS UNFILTERED"> <script> ARCHIVE_TAG="SCROLLTRAP::SATIRE::HOLIDAY TRUTHBOMBS" TRIGGER_WARNING="santa slander, elf labor violations, dark humor, ruined holidays" EFFECT="uncontrollable laughter, nervous reblogs, coal in inbox" </script>
🎅🏽 I MET SANTA… AND HE WAS A BIT OF A PERV (A festive poem for the spiritually exhausted)
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I met Santa, but he was a bit of a perv. Called me “Ho Ho Ho”? Man’s got some nerve.
Told him I was a fan, he called me a nerd. Didn’t even blink -- I was visibly perturbed.
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His breath smelled like cookies and probable cause. He winked and said, > “You’ve been bad… and that deserves applause.”
Said the sleigh’s fueled by "elf-made tears." I asked, "You okay?" He said, > “Not since ‘96 when the reindeer went gay.”
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I said, “Santa, you need therapy and maybe some prayer.” He said, > “Shut up and sit -- you’ve got lap potential to spare.”
He offered eggnog from a thermos with tape. Label said: “Mrs. Claus’s emotional escape.”
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He kept calling me “naughty,” kept jingling his bells. Then pulled out a scroll and whispered, > “This one’s for the private shelves.”
Rudolph walked by smoking a menthol stick. Said “Don’t ask. Don’t judge. I just need this gig.”
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The elves were twitchy, union signs in hand. Santa shouted, > “Back to work! You’re magical, not man!”
I asked him, “Bro, when did it all go wrong?” He said, > “When parents stopped spanking. That ruined the whole song.”
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I said, “I think you need rest, and probably jail.” He said, > “I am rest. I am myth. I am seasonal male.”
I backed away slowly, called an Uber reindeer. Prancer said, > “You’re lucky. He once tried to lick my ear.”
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Now every Christmas, I sleep with the lights on. A candy cane in hand, and pepper spray drawn.
Because Santa’s out there… judging, watching, cursed. And no one warns you what’s in that “North Pole thirst.”
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So if you meet him, and he grins ear to ear… Just remember:
🎄 The real reason he says “Ho”… is not holiday cheer.
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