In the 1700’s he was a wino
and the north pole was then an ice winery,
but these days he’s evolved for something harder…
Though he appreciates the sentiment,
the cookie brand Santa’s Favorite frankly sucks
especially with twenty-six gallons of supernatural bourbon
that’s sporadically chased with lukewarm reindeer milk:
sleigh fuel for one night:
his elfs’ sweat in the offseason and alimony money
when all he wants is sixty-five big macs:
the top of the food pyramid:
a tiny part a supernatural diet:
a must-have pleasure pleaser for an epic occasion;
For the record — McDonalds in the north pole,
which consists of greasy dishes emulated by elves:
he thinks it’s better than the real thing,
but he wouldn’t know this because God says
it’s against the law for him to ever eat human food.
That’s why your parents nibble on the cookies
that you leave out for him.
As for your lack of gifts from him — the truth is,
Santa was never about that,
but he does visit every human Christian home
to sprinklie soul spice on your sleeping head,
which is like a vitamin — good for the afterlife
and you take it with you when you die.
All Christians ascend to the astral plane
upon death with an alternating green, white and red
aura — the result of a lifetime of annual soul spice
dustings by Santa Clause.
If you’re Jewish you get dusted by Hanukkah Harry.
If you’re atheist, a fairy, Faithless Fiona will dust you.
No matter what you are, everyone gets dusted by
someone.
The end.
But remember:
the cookie brand Santa’s Favorite frankly sucks
and Santa says so,
though he eats a gluten free elf created imitation.