On the couch, Santa finally admitted to his psychotherapist that he has a recurring bathroom fantasy dream: four alcoholic Storefront Santas in cheap Santa Claus suits and a drunk combat-boots-wearing hairy ballerina with fairie wings pee filtered scotch and eggnog into urinals with plumbing that leads to one place: Santa’s open mouth. When asked what he thought it means, Santa replied with, “I think it means that what I want for Christmas is an elf Golden Shower. Not just one elf either. I want all the elves peeing on me. All of them, all those dirty little fuckers peeing on me, right into my open mouth.” Santa’s psychotherapist suggested that maybe he should cut back on the rum and eggnogs for a while. But, if he was especially good this year, and especially tactful, perhaps he could ask Mrs. Claus if she’d be willing to pee on him during sexual intercourse. “That way,” the psychotherapist said, “your bathroom fantasy dream could come true without involving the elves. Elves, as you know, are shy about their genitalia and have very sensitive emotional states that might not be able to handle peeing into Santa’s mouth.” Santa agreed, cut back on the scotch and eggnogs, did not involve the elves in his Golden Shower fantasy, and the night after Christmas and all through his house, with no one looking, not even a mouse, Mrs. Claus peed into Santa Claus’s mouth!
Stand aside, girls, I don’t know how big this will get.
Andy Dick ruins yet another office Christmas party.
On the couch, Santa finally admitted to his psychotherapist that he has a recurring bathroom fantasy dream: four alcoholic Storefront Santas in cheap Santa Claus suits and a drunk combat-boots-wearing hairy ballerina with fairie wings pee filtered scotch and eggnog into urinals with plumbing that leads to one place: Santa’s open mouth. When asked what he thought it means, Santa replied with, “I think it means that what I want for Christmas is an elf Golden Shower. Not just one elf either. I want all the elves peeing on me. All of them, all those dirty little fuckers peeing on me, right into my open mouth.” Santa’s psychotherapist suggested that maybe he should cut back on the rum and eggnogs for a while. But, if he was especially good this year, and especially tactful, perhaps he could ask Mrs. Claus if she’d be willing to pee on him during sexual intercourse. “That way,” the psychotherapist said, “your bathroom fantasy dream could come true without involving the elves. Elves, as you know, are shy about their genitalia and have very sensitive emotional states that might not be able to handle peeing into Santa’s mouth.” Santa agreed, cut back on the scotch and eggnogs, did not involve the elves in his Golden Shower fantasy, and the night after Christmas and all through his house, with no one looking, not even a mouse, Mrs. Claus peed into Santa Claus’s mouth!
And you probably thought the one in pink was the fruity one out of the bunch. Check out Santa on the far left. He’s checking out the line up!
Cool Urinals.
“It was definitely ‘perp number 3’,” exclaimed a breathless Adam. “I’d recognize those bony shoulders *anywhere*!”
I call bull shit Santa isn’t black!