Hey, Nephew on the Dead. Whatcha do–

“WHAT THE FUCK IS HAPPENING!?”

Calm down, buddy.

“THERE’S A LOT GOING ON RIGHT NOW, MAN. I’M FREAKING OUT.”

Dude! Dude, mellow. Deep breaths.

“It’s just that there’s a lot of new ideas coming at me at once here. Who is this person?”

Santa.

“What the fuck is a Santa?”

It’s a long story.

“Start at the beginning.”

27 AD, Asia Minor.

“Don’t start at the beginning.”

Santa is a magic being who brings all the good boys and girls presents.

“Listen, numbnuts: I am a baby. The concepts of ‘magic,’ ‘good,’ and ‘presents’ are so far beyond me I can’t explain it to you. Also ‘boy’ and ‘girl.’ I have a vague feeling that the two big people who take care of me are somehow different in a categorical sense, but that’s it. I would bomb a 101-level Gender Studies class so hard.”

Sure. Well, how about this: the guy whose lap you’re on is of no threat to you.

“Thank you! Information I can use. Will he feed me?”

No.

“Okay. Is he gonna point the rectangle at me?”

Probably not.

“The two big people are always pointing that damn rectangle at me. Hell, they’re doing it right now.”

Santa won’t. Just so you know, the rectangle is called a cell phone, and it’s a miraculous device that’s driving us all insane.

“You lost me and I–”

“–don’t care.”

What was that?

“Pooped.”

Just like that?

“How do you do it?”

Not while sitting on Santa’s lap.

“Your loss, man.”

Merry Christmas, NotD.

“Got no idea what you’re talking about.”