Rants of a Rebecca

Crappy Jobs, Part 3 (Remotely blogged)

Hi Gravel Rash, and other non abrasive wounds. A little while ago, I started this series, and got waylaid. What, with helping Hillbilly Mom move house, spruking for Andy's election bid and learning Native American dialect from Miss Ann, I kind of lost track of the time. So on to Crappy Job #3, Assistant Santa Claus. I would like to point out, at this point in time, that I am not the real Santa Claus. Around December each year, he gets rather busy, so he gets some very good friends, who never stop believing in his magical powers to help out. About a decade ago, I was one of these helpers. The function was a Shed Party, where a bunch of friends get together and have an end of year break up. At this special event, Santa was to make an appearance, in a very special way, on a peewee 50 motorcycle. Hey, no laughing, the Raindeer were off getting their hooves manicured that day. Given Santa knew that I had been a good girl that year, and that I have a motorbike license, and that I wouldn't be intoxicated, he asked me to help out. So in I rode, on this tiny little bike, did my Santa thing, which was heaps of fun, then the real fun started. I got back on the motorbike, and tried to start it. No go. Try and try again, no luck. By this stage the kids are getting a bit sick of seeing Santa, because they have their presents, all they want to do is play. A push start was tried, still no luck, the situation was becoming comical. As I looked down at the bike, I saw the problem, someone had switched off the fuel supply. With the fuel system now ready to work, the bike started, it was time for Santa to ride off back to the North Pole. I got about four metres down the driveway, before the unthinkable happened. The wonderfully big baggy red pants, got caught up in the drive chain, and off I came. So there for all the kids to see, was Santa laying there on the ground, with a motorbike that wouldn't switch off, doing circle work, running over Santa repeatedly. When the I was finally rescued (never trust three parts pissed guys to help Santa) I rose to my feet, covered in tire marks, gravel and exhaust dust, and in my biggest Santa voice said to all who could hear "Ho Ho Ho, you never have this problem with Raindeer, Merry Christmas." Then I got back on the bike, and rode back to the North Pole, where there is heaps of ice for my bruises. Blog Out, HooRoo Rebecca

posted by Rebecca @ 10/27/2005 09:10:00 am