gabe met santa!

that's right! i just met santa! on the corner of 22nd and park!
he was standing outside in the rain with a 22 oz rolling rock, leaning against a payphone, begging for spare cigarettes. he was also crying a little bit, i think, unless the rain was just beading up around his eye grease.
he weighs, i would guess, 450 lbs of solid jelly, and is jolly as ever. oh, what a magical moment it was. everything you've heard about him is true. but, there's more--and i'm not only refering to all the chicken in his beard.
i mean, i know he knows when i've been sleeping (always), and when i'm awake (never), etc., but exactly how he knew that i was of the ... pink persuasion ... i'll never know (sure--i was carrying an umbrella that matches my shirt, shoes, coat, glasses and handbag--but i was on grammercy park for fuck's sake).
anyjiz, i walked by him, and he took a step and half (i think the last half was an accident) toward me and whispered "happy holidays, cutie." i came right back to my office to look that up in my queer thesaurus. roughly translated, santa said "oooh, i'd fucking KILL to piss inside you."
jingle bell rock on.