No clever title needed here.....my kid pissed on Santa. Let me explain:

This morning I had just finished a horrible eight day work week and decided that I was over-due to spend a little quality time with the kid. So, off we go to the mall.....THE FUCKING MALL!!!.....to do a bit of holiday shopping and to go see, for the first time, jolly ole Saint Nick.

We wandered through the mall for about an hour or so, hitting most of the stores I had planned to. If any of you are planning to take a two year old to the mall in the near future, please heed my warning: don't. She was bored, I was bored, the A&W was closed for some reason.....fuck that shit. So, we took the few things we had accomplished in picking up, and headed for the center of the mall where Santa was sitting his jolly fat ass down to greet the children.

We got in line to go see Santa Claus at 2:00. During the 45 minute wait (yup....45 minutes!!) we saw humanity at it's worst. Children running wild, douchebags in trackpants and T-shirts with sexually ironic phrases only a thirteen year old would find funny, and a fair shake of old folks wandering aimlessly. It amazed me how many people don't work at 2:00 in the afternoon on a weekday. Hundreds and hundreds of assholes all walking from store to store with no real purpose....and me, smack in the middle of it all. 

Anyway, the line eventually moves and its our turn to go up and see Santa Claus. My daughter has seen Santa in the cartoons and colouring-in books we have at home, so she sort-of recognized him. But, seeing him in real-life was a little too much for her I suppose. To her credit, she didn't cry...not like that whiny little fuck three kids ahead...but she did do the squeeze-cling thing that a scared-shitless kid will sometimes do. I took her up, plopped her down on his knee (taking careful note of his hands and crotch....can't be too careful) and tried to get her to relax a bit. She didn't fight to get away, but did stare at him in this crazy "I know you've knifed another homeless gentleman in an alley somewhere" sort of way.

He asked her her name - she said nothing.

He asked her her age - she said nothing.

He asked her what she wanted for Christmas - she pissed all over his leg.

Not just a little piss. A LOT of piss. The kind of piss where there's more wet spots than dry spots to the material. I knew something horrible was happening before he head-bobbed me over. His eyes got really wide, and his face got this look of disgust as if he somehow just then realized that he had the lowest ranking job in all of Canada. (You know how low on the totem you've got to be to claim that prize?!)

Being the responsible adult that I am, I laughed (and if memory serves, pointed) at the giant wet-spot slowly expanding on Santa's knee. To his credit, he didn't freak out or anything. One of his drug-addict looking elves came over, gave us a candy cane and put out the "Santa Will Be Back In 5 Minutes" sign. Santa got up, walked somewhat oddly over to the side exit, and gave his pants a little shake. I tempted fate, and asked if we could get a photo of the wet spot on his leg.....for the sake of the picture album and all.  Santa was a great sport, and posed for a photo with my kid's piss all over his leg with my daughter standing somewhat close by. 

When all was said and done, we got a really memorable picture of her first visit to see Santa Claus. That, and if she ever pisses me off in fourteen years, I now have a great photo to threaten to show to all her friends. That's what Christmas is all about: extortion, embarassment, and pissing on the guy lower than you.

Good times.

Thanks for reading,

-The Big Bad