All I Want for Christmas is a Little Magic (and a One Man Army Killing Machine)

What do I want for Christmas? How 'bout your hand out of my crotch?

What do I want for Christmas? How ’bout your hand out of my crotch?

 

I’ve written a couple of Christmas related stories I think.  Let me go look.  Yes, here is one where my Dad felt the urge to be benevolent so he shared the truth about there not being a Santa as he was walking out the door (link), (probably headed out to the local tavern).  Oh, and just to prove that the teasing gene does indeed get passed down through the generations, you’ll read about a couple of nice tricks I played on our youngest boy in this same story.
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