Good Santa, Bad Santa
Good Santa, Bad Santa A Christmas Tale The bedside phone rang. "What the fuck!" said the President, lifting the receiver. "Apologies, Mr. President," a voice said. "Calling as requested. We have a sighting!" "A sighting?" The President struggled to extricate his brain from vivid, technicolour dreams of a ceremony in Oslo where he was about to receive the Nobel Peace Prize. "Yes, Mr. President. A figure in a red coat driving an airborne sleigh pulled by reindeer has just entered US airspace over Alaska." "You mean Santa! You've picked up Santa?" "Yes, Mr. President, it would appear so." "You have radio contact?" "We do, Mr. President." "You asked him where's he heading?" "Yes, Mr. President. He says initially down the West Coast." "The West Coast! Fuck the West Coast! They're all Democrat slimeballs! Listen, can you put him through to me?" "Yes, ...