Everyone is familiar with the legend of Santa Claus. Once a year , on Christmas Eve , he delivers toys and goodies to good little boys and girls all over the world , and leaves clumps of coal for those who are not so good. But there is another legend that no one knows about , and that’s the legend of The Boogermeister. He is actually the one who leaves the clumps of coal for the bad children. Dr. Seuss got his inspiration for How The Grinch Stole Christmas , from the legend of The Boogermeister. This bit of information , was briefly mentioned in his memoirs , but has never been substantiated. The Boogermeister , who is an elf , received his name during a series of unfortunate childhood events that , fortunately , turned out to be hilariously funny. Recently , I ran into a childhood acquaintance of The Boogermeister , who told me some very interesting stories about Santa , Rudolph , and the legend of The Boogermeister.
Tales Of Santa , Rudolph , And The Legend Of The Boogermeister , With Reb ( formerly Known As “The Rube” ) Roig
” It’s true , I did have a reputation for being a bit of a dunce. Ok , a great big dunce. But not anymore. That was then , this is now. Then , I definitely was a bumpkin , a clod , a dunce , a moron , a dork , an idiot , and every other word associated with a genuinely stupid person. At least that was how I felt. The other kids wouldn’t let me forget it. They called me all of those names , and names I won’t bother repeating. I was bullied almost from the moment I could talk. I had huge , buck teeth , like a beaver , and I spoke with a lisp , which made it even worse.”
We shared a back booth at a local bar and grilled , called The Gold Fish Bowl. He guzzled bottle after bottle of Black Moose beer. He was clearly drunk , and had been long before I’d gotten there , but never once slurred his words. His cheeks , and ears were bright red. I wasn’t sure if it was natural , from the dry weather , or because of all the alcohol he had consumed.
He belched and passed wind frequently , causing myself and many of the nearby patrons to regard him with disgust , but he either didn’t notice , or even care. Perhaps both.
“I also had ears that were three times as big as my head. They tormented me non stop about that , too. They called me Dumbo , Floppo , Rabbit Ears . and Moose ears. I got my ears flicked so many times , I lost count. One kid in particular , thought it was so funny , that he would sometimes chase me around the schoolyard , shouting , ‘Silly rabbit , tricks are for kids!’ and , ‘Hey Goober can I play with those moose antlers? while the other kids laughed and pointed. It was his favorite way to torment me. Apparently , he couldn’t get through a single day without getting his daily fix of flicking my ears at least once.
“When they weren’t focusing on my ears , they were tormenting me in the usual ways kids these days torment the weaker kids. By sitting on me and slapping my face repeatedly , tripping me up when I walked by , and taping kick me signs to my back , or ones accusing me of being a dork , a moron , or some other humiliating word. It went on for weeks. I went to the teacher to complain one day , but that only made it worse. My tormentors denied everything. Not only that , they covered for each other when they were questioned separately to determine if they were lying. In the end , the teacher couldn’t do anything about it , because no one dared to come forward and back me up. They knew they would be bullied if they did.
“The bullying got worse. Now they did things they had not done to me before. Now they were rubbing my face in mud , making me eat dirt , grass , bugs , you name , they forced me to eat it. I got swirlies almost on a daily basis. Once , they glued my ass to a toilet seat , and another time they duct taped me to the girls’ restroom door with a sign taped to me announcing that I used feminine disposable products.
“Thank God it didn’t last too long. Eventually , they found something else to focus their attention on. Not that I didn’t get picked on anymore. I did. Just not as much. Maybe two or three times a week. But they were no longer taping me to bathroom doors with embarrassing signs , or giving me swirlies on a daily basis. And for that , I was grateful.”
Not So Jolly Old St. Nick
“Much of their attention was now on the Big Guy himself , Santa Claus , or as I sometimes referred to him , St. Prick. I called him St. Prick for several reasons. First of all , he was a pompous wind bag , who liked to think he was right about everything , all the time. Whether it was politics , sports , religion , whatever. His views and opinions were the right ones , and anyone who disagreed with him , were poop heads. That was his favorite insult aimed at anyone who disagreed with him.
“His religious and political views were pretty extreme. He opposed pornography – like any squeaky clean conservative would – or so he claimed , but everyone knew that was a lie , because he was always down loading porn off the internet. And he subscribed to enough porno magazines to make Bob Guccioni blush in embarrassment in his grave. He was a prude in name only , just to fool the Missus , who really was a prude. But it wasn’t long before she found out that he was pulling the wool over her eyes. And that’s when the shit hit the fan.
“He was also a booze hound. Whiskey was his choice of poison. He rarely touched anything else. He guzzled it like it was water. He loved it so much , I believe he would have been happy if someone had stuck a spout down his throat , and just poured the booze in. And even though he guzzled in private , so the Missus wouldn’t catch him , it didn’t matter , because he always reeked of alcohol. She let him get away with it most of the time , because she was known on more than occasion to indulge , herself.
“He also considered himself a cigar aficionado. But the truth is , he couldn’t tell a Cuban from a cheap stogie. Oh , he smoked quite a few Cubans , but when it came to taste , he really couldn’t tell , or didn’t care , if he was smoking a real Cuban , or a rug. When he wasn’t pouring booze down his throat , I think he just liked having something in his mouth , no matter what it was , or what it tasted like.
“When it came to porn , his favorite sites , were Chunky Chicks , and Mammoth Mellons. The old prick always was a big boob lover. His favorite mags were Huge Jugs , and Xtra Large Hooters. But he subscribed to tons of skin magazines , because he was a pervert , and a dirty old man. He kept stacks of them hidden all over the place , so the missus wouldn’t find them and blow her top. ( She tolerated alcohol , but she put her foot down when it came to porn ). At the back of the closet , under loose floor boards , behind the wood pile next to the fire-place , out back , behind the wood pile next to the wood shack , the wood shack itself , and even the outhouse for God sake! No place was off-limits , just as long , as the Missus never looked. They were all good hiding places , because the missus never looked in any of them for any reason , and she certainly didn’t use the outhouse. She was too much of a lady for that. They both had their own private bathroom in their suite. The Old Prick was the only one who used the outhouse , mostly so he could look at his stash , pour booze down his throat , and diddle himself at the same time. God knows he wasn’t getting any from the Missus.
“One day , Mrs. Claus’s personal maid , found one of his stashes. She was cleaning their suite when she stumbled over a loose floor board. The old prick had been slobbering over them the night before when everyone else had been asleep , and apparently had forgotten to secure the board firmly into place , after putting them back. She debated going to the Missus , telling her what she had found. She thought it was kind of creepy. How could Santa Claus be such a dirty minded pervert? He was supposed to be a role model for kids , wasn’t he? But , nonetheless , she didn’t want to get him into trouble. However , as she was hunkered over the hidey place , Mrs. Clause walked casually into the room in her stockinged feet , so quietly that the maid didn’t notice. When she saw what the girl had been looking at , she let out a scream that raised the dead , and not to mention , the roof off the building. The maid let out her own scream , and nearly fainted.
“The entire village heard the Missus scream. It was a scream of rage , and betrayal. The maid clutched her heart , looking up at the Missus with eyes that were bulging from their sockets. “Good lord , ma’am! You nearly gave me a heart attack!”
“Ignoring the startled girl , the Missus shouted , ‘Where is he?! I’m going to kill that son of a bitch when I find him. He better hope I don’t!’
“It wasn’t hard to figure out where he was. Not when you consider what his very favorite thing to do was. He wasn’t in their private bathroom. He wasn’t in a closet , where he sometimes hid from the Missus , not just to drink and diddle himself , but to sometimes just get away from all the nagging. And he wasn’t in the work shop , which is where he should have been , considering what time of year it was.
“That’s right. You guessed it. He was in the outhouse , slurping a bottle of his favorite whiskey , and diddling himself over his stash of girly magazines. A couple of the kids who had bullied me , were watching him through a peep-hole on the side of the outhouse. They had known about his clandestine activities for some time , after one of them had spied him beside the wood pile , with the stash he kept hidden there. When they heard the Missus scream , they thought they had been discovered as peeping toms. One of them released an expletive , and the two of them ran off like frightened deer. The Old Prick also heard her scream , and he also heard the expletive , and the two running off through the snow , and he knew that someone had been spying on him. But that was the least of his worries , at least for the time being. Right now , he had an even bigger problem. When the Missus screamed , he knew it could mean only one thing. She must have found one of his stashes! He knew she would be looking for him , and when she found him , there was no telling what she might do to him. She might kill him and bury his body in the snow beside the wood pile. She might scratch him to death with her ruby-red finger nails , or claw his eyes out. The latter seemed more likely. That would teach the old pervert to look at porn!
“He knew that she would eventually find him. But the outhouse was his best bet. She never visited it. It always reeked after he exited it , which is why the Missus never used it. His best bet was to just stay put until she cooled off. If she did find him hiding there , the stench would most likely drive her away.
“It didn’t take long for her to discover where he was hiding. First , she looked in all of the other places he normally coward in , when attempting to avoid her. Then , somehow , magically , without making a sound tramping through the snow , as if she were a light-footed deer – which she wasn’t by any means , she was nearly as big as he was – she threw open the outhouse door , grimaced at the unspeakable stench , grabbed him by an ear with those ruby-red fingernails , that were just as long and sharp as a hawks talons , and without bothering to wait for him to pull up his trousers , dragged him through the snow and back to the lodge with his pants around his ankles , stumbling every step of the way. And as she dragged him through the snow , he farted explosively , and repeatedly.
” ‘Are you happy , you old pervert!’ the Missus screamed at him , having to raise her voice above the sound of his wind , which was nearly deafening in the stillness. ‘Sarah found one of your disgusting porn collections! I want to know where you’re hiding the rest of it , and then I’m going to burn it! Is that understood?’
” ‘Yes dear!’ he mumbled , still farting. His face was redder than it normally was. He knew it wouldn’t be long before everyone in the entire village knew that he was a pervert , and be laughing at him behind his back. He wished he could find a hole to crawl into and hide. But he knew it was nothing more than wishful thinking. God knew he would never hear the end of it. In fact , some joker thought it would be funny to change some of the lyrics to Santa Claus Is Coming To Town. Whoever was responsible , printed it out and plastered it all over the place just to embarrass him. And I have to admit , it was pretty funny. But the Old Prick wasn’t laughing. He couldn’t crawl into a hole fast enough to avoid the embarrassment :
“You better watch out , you better not cry , you better not pout I’m telling you why .
’cause Santa is one big booze hound ,
“He’s snorting his booze , he’s looking at porn , don’t you know he’s a disgusting old pervert ,
Santa Claus is coming to town ,
“He sees you when you masturbate and when you pick your nose ,
he even hears you when you fart , so you better not fart for goodness sake ,
“You better not pick or masturbate , and you better not fart for goodness sake ,
Santa Claus is coming’ to town! Yeah!
“So you better make sure you don’t beat your meat , pick your nose , crotch , belch , fart , guzzle booze , and
look at porn ( only Santa can do all that ) , or your pecker will fall off.”