Day 67: Chistmas Day

Holy trollups and a freakin' toad! His bloatatiousness pombled down the drain pipe, fluffing up his beard; scaring the would be watching neighbours, if they ever could dare such a thing and he knocked on my door, the back door silly. He claimed to have "Sandy Claws" but I saw mittens only, no claws at all and you should know by now that I will not let you inside unless I get inspect the sugar infested recesses of your fingernails; with my tongue. He refused and so did I and we stood there in a frozen stance... Eventually 30 seconds did pass and I figured, 'If he wants in so damn bad, why the hell not?' So I opened the sliding door and not 20 minutes later, that fat, hideously jolly man had rolled his carcass to my fridge (It's 10 whole meter's, I mean, you can only dream of rolling that fast without pain!) and he dove in for my milk and cookies! A THIEF, I say, and I smacked him on the head with a frypan!
So yes, I am truly sorry, but I did have to enter your homes last night due to Santa's so called "Coma." But you should be happy I saved all those cookies from his jaws of crumbling death and I did place them inside my very own mouth for safe keeping.

Popping Noses Is Not Fun.