Santa Dancing Naked On the Beach

I was at a party at a beach house. Someone said we should all tell each other about a life-changing event. This seemed like some sort of gawd-awful corporate team building ice-breaker exercise, so I left and went down to the shore for a walk by myself. It was nice to be alone. But I wasn't alone. Santa Claus was there, dancing naked on the beach. He was totally bald and clean shaven, but I knew it was him. I could just tell; even with no beard, no hair, no Santa suit or Santa hat there's no mistaking Santa Claus. It was a warm July night, two o'clock in the morning and there was no moon. He was silhuoetted against the glow of bioluminescent algae as the waves crashed behind him. I wanted to dance with him. Who wouldn't? But he looked like he was having so much fun. He was dancing like nobody was watching, and you don't want to interrupt that.

He was not a graceful dancer, in fact, he was very clumsy. He stomped and lurched and he waved his fists here and there in random directions. He jumped and kicked and staggered about and tried to spin but the beach is not a good dance floor so he fell over a lot, but got up every time and continued lurching about. He must have been dancing to some internal soundtrack, and I wondered what it could be. What kind of music makes you move like that? Maybe the Dead Kennedys.

After a while he stopped and leaned over to catch his breath. When he looked up, he smiled at me and waved and said "Ho! Ho! Ho!" just like he was supposed to. I guess he knew I was watching him all along. He put on some red shorts and a black tank top and took a joint out of his pocket. He lit it, and took a puff. He gestured to ask if I wanted some but I declined. He walked away down the beach and a reindeer came out from behind a bunch of pampas grass. They walked off together, chatting and laughing.

I watched them stroll around a bend in the shore, and then I went back to the party and I told everyone there about seeing Santa dancing naked on the beach. I put on a Dead Kennedys cassette and showed them how Santa danced, and we all danced like Santa. It was a disaster; everyone was falling over and kicking each other and breaking things. I knocked over a cieling-high bookcase and made a huge mess. We all laughed like Santa, Ho! Ho! Ho! I helped clean up even though I knew Santa wasn't watching me.

I sometimes wonder what would have happened if I had gotten stoned with Santa and hung out with him and the riendeer. It might have been life changing. But just seeing Santa dancing naked on the beach was enough. I don't know if it was life changing, but what is? Or, for that matter, what isn't?

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