skippy the bush kangaroo

Wednesday, December 05, 2007

away in the workshop where toys are endear'd, the little st. nicholas lay down his sweet beard

we have a good friend, james napoli, who is, another other things, a writer for several ezines. his latest, posted over on the collider.com, is particularly subversive, and we thought the skippy audience would enjoy it. james has reimagined the christ story as if it were about st. nicholas. aside from the obvious metaphors about materialism vs. spirituality, it's jes' plain ho-ho-larious.

and so, young norbert claus began his nomadic existence for several score and seven years. what a score is, or how many scores make up several, we are not sure, but it sounds more historical. anyway, on every corner, norbert told of the coming era of shopping. mostly, he played to ragged lunatics who lunged at him and made barking sounds, but eventually, norbert found a band of two to four elfin followers, depending on who had other commitments. the two most consistent ones were rumpo and hermy, the latter of whom had dreams of being a dentist. together, they made frivolous items in the norbert claus toy and bauble factory, and continued their ministry on the dusty thoroughfares of their town.

“gather round, gather round, hear the words of norbert claus…free pamphlets on the gospel of consumerism….gather round….” hermy and rumpo called out to the townspeople, their hands cupped over their mouths. but the people were indifferent. even rumpo handing out flyers for his heavy metal band “slay rider” was met with put-upon glances.

“it is no use, my brothers,” norbert’s shoulders sagged. “the word of commerce is not to be heard here today.”

“oh, get over yourself, claus,” rumpo snapped. “enough with the pity party, big guy.”

“big?” norbert held out his arms. “that is a laugh. i am but a thin wisp of a man.”

“wait a minute!” rumpo exclaimed. “that’s it!”

hermy, briefly possessed by the spirit of gary coleman, shot back, “whatchoo talkin’ bout, rumpo?”

“norbert here could stand to put on a little weight. and would it kill ya to chuckle or chortle or even guffaw for the love of mike? you deliver sermons like you’re on paxil.”

“well, ho, ho, ho,” norbert whined sarcastically.

“now you’re talking!” rumpo beamed.
here's part one and part two of the passion of the claus.

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posted by skippy at 11:21 AM |

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