“If a man smiles all the time, he’s probably selling something that doesn’t work.”
George Carlin
Once upon a time, in a galaxy far far away, lived an amalgam of quarrelsome tribes called “Terriens”.
They coexisted under an eccentric set of rules called “democrazy”.
Under this arrangement, every four years all tribesmen (regardless of their mental condition) were summoned to select a chief, a liege lord.
And so one year, after being deluged with fantastical claims, the Terriens picked an individual who vowed to bring them back to the Promised Land. A land of milk and honey where everybody (except a few of course) would live a prosperous and happy life.
They chose a leader who was called Drake (the name of a male duck by the way).
He was very wealthy and he was also dubbed the Gift-Bringer of the East. All his followers expected a great deal of plundering and looting in return for their votes.
During his drive for control, Drake made numerous promises but shortly after being triumphantly hoisted on a shield by his warriors, he wavered.
He realized that there was a very big gap between free flowing rhetoric and action.
He also quickly discovered that people can be fickle, and that hell has no fury like scorned mercenaries. After a brief honeymoon period, peasants carrying pitchforks and torches soon started to gather nightly in front of his castle demanding satisfaction.
They also began to call him the Flapdoodle Whisperer.
Drake who was notoriously thin-skinned didn’t like that. He retreated to his ivory tower and ordered his minions to raise the drawbridge. He also decided to ignore troubadours and minstrels to disseminate his ideas and only communicate with his legions with tweeting birds.
In the meantime, Christmas was fast approaching and in spite of the existing hardship, people furiously engaged in the greatest commercial hustle of the year.
On Christmas Day, Santa who was traveling on his SPPS (self-propelled photovoltaic sleigh) noticed a disturbance on Drake’s estate and decided to have closer look.
He did not like what he saw.
Drake had been talking ceaselessly about “cleaning the black lagoon” but when Santa looked at Drake’s swimming pool he couldn’t help but notice that the pool was full of very wealthy “swamp creatures”.
He decided to give the Drake a taste of his own medicine.
Instead of the gold, frankincense and myrrh that Drake had expected, Old Nick dropped a big lump of coal in his stocking and disappeared, chortling in the dark.
And if you paid close attention, you could have heard his jolly voice roaring in the night: Ho, ho, ho chump! Or was it hump, bump, dump, trump?
Who knows?
‘Merry Christmas, nearly everybody!’
Alain
One thought on “Ho, ho, oy!”
Comments are closed.