Santa Claus 2 - New Year's poems.

"... and today many are afraid to let Santa Claus in, because,
in fact, it could be anyone." (from New Year's
radio broadcasts)

Those who wait on New Year's Eve will definitely wait... When
Santa Claus rang the doorbell, I was fully armed. Without asking
idiotic question about “who is there”, I sharply opened the door
and into the resulting gap, which the door chain allowed,
threw a grenade. And he slammed it. The explosion was even better than
could be expected for the money. However, in dollars... Door
knocked out by the blast wave along with the jamb. And Santa Claus
solemnly entered the apartment, removing the stuck
fragments (some even from someone else's grenade). The fur coat turned out to be
more reliable than any body armor (you need to remember this, if you’re lucky)
only the nose (mask?) was slightly smoked. He greeted loudly
hitting with a staff. He suggested that he put his hands down, and he shook it out
plaster from felt boots, and said that he also loved firecrackers. 

He stopped an attempt to take a gas canister out of the desk drawer,
grabbed my hand with his iron one, and said that he had
have it with you. And now I wouldn’t risk going on a visit empty.
And indeed, he took a bottle of cognac out of his pocket,
filled with cognac. I poured glasses for myself and him, but he
refused, citing “during execution.” I drank for two.
Then another (from a glass) for several. And Santa Claus
told me New Year's poems with expression(s)
and knocked with his staff. Between twoI managed to write poems
insert your own question about “who do you work for?” Using
When confusion arose, he moved on to “show me the documents.”
As I expected - deaf! And when he started singing about "from the forest
Christmas tree,” I began to insist, “Where did you come from?”
I thought that now he would start lying about “from the trade union organization,
miraculously saved from democracy, and from the permanent Ivan
Stepanovich personally..." And he muttered, saying, "from
We are Lapland... I (other) “don’t know such a country”, but this
It already smells of international espionage. Yes, he attacked the wrong one. Our
people don’t give up so easily (and especially me among them)... And then I
how bruised: if I’m ours, then whose?! 

Alexander SOLOVIEV 

Text: Alexander Solovyov
HTML-Code and design: Olga Dunaeva
Bachelorette party (c) December 1999