NegusWhoRead
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A NegusWhoRead Christmas Story

On the evening of December 24th, I heard something scratching on my roof. We had been under a severe thunderstorm watch and tornado warning all day so I figured the wind had blown my DirecTV dish off my roof. I live in a multicultural neighborhood, which is to say, I live around white people, and if nothing else, White people are diligent neighbors. They will let you know if one of your window screens fell of, if there are suspicious people in the neighborhood, or if one of your slaves escaped. I hadn’t received any phone calls from the people who lived next door or across the street, so I figured it was nothing.

But then I heard someone laughing…

So I grabbed my shotgun and headed out to my patio landing so I could see on my roof, and gotdammit, there was a man in a red suit trying to get in my chimney! At first I thought it was an old school Kappa, and as an Omega, I have nothing against Kappas (some of my best friends are Kappas. I mean, I wouldn’t want one marrying my daughter, but that’s just because I want to keep my family’s bloodline pure, but I don’t hate Kappas).

I cocked the shotgun (knowing that sound would scare off an intruder), and yelled “Hey man! What the f**k are you doing on top of my house?”

This old, white creepy looking motherfucker (that’s when I knew he wasn’t a Kappa. Plus, he didn’t have a cane) turned around, looked at me and replied “I’m just bringing you some Christmas cheer! I’m Santa Claus!”

I let off one round in the air (I wanted to shoot this bastard but I just re-shingled my roof this summer).“Santa Claus, my ass” I yelled. “I call ‘shenanigans!’ If you’re Santa Claus, where are the reindeer? I don’t see Donna, or Blitzen or Kesha, Or Demarcus?” (some people don’t know Santa Claus has recently undergone some turnover in the reindeer department. He had to let Blitzen and Prancer go. You gotta have some African reindeer if you’re gonna be lugging around PlayStations, hoverboards and MacBooks).

As I cocked my shotgun again, I heard a rifle shot.

And then another.

And then another.

So I hit the deck, thinking Santa has some elves hidden in the cut spraying at me. (It all made sense in the moment. I mean, would you ride around all night with millions of dollars in electronics without some backup?). But then I look at Santa, and he’s on the ground shaking like a ’57 Chevy, as scared as a dude who emailed Hillary Clinton some dick picks. 

And then I see why.

Somebody’s shooting at the Reindeer!

Rudolph was already shot, and there was deer blood and nose glitter everywhere. I scream “stop!” but by that time Donna and Blitzen are down too. When the shooting stopped, I looked up, and my redneck neighbor is standing there grinning, holding a rifle.

“I thought you could use some help. I saw you up here, and you know what the government says: If you see something, shoot something.”

“No,” I screamed. “You’re supposed to say something! The saying is, ‘if you see something, say something!’ “

“Are you sure?” My neighbor said. “I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to shoot something. Anyway, I did say something to my wife. I said ‘There’s a big fat Crip on Michael’s roof. I bet I could shoot it from here.’ See, my niece used to listen to a little Snoop Doggy Dogg, so I know all about the negro gang colors.”

“It’s fucking Santa Claus, you idiot. You just shot Santa’s reindeer!”

“Are you sure?” My neighbor said, “I thought I read that they had a colored Santa Claus this year.”

Just as I was about to explain everything to him, the police showed up. I immediately threw my gun down and got on all fours. Y’all know how they do. Luckily my White neighbor was there, so they didn’t open fire all willy-nilly.

The police immediately began firing questions at Santa, and get more suspicious.

Officers: Are you from around here?

No.

Officers: I notice a slight accent. Are you from this country?

No. I’m from further north.

Officers: DO you have a Green Card?

No. I was only visiting for a few hours

Officers: So you’re a bearded guy from another country coming to visit for a few hours dropping stuff down people’s chimney?

Santa: Yes! Exactly! Now if I can go now…

Officers: Sir, do you follow the teachings of anyone from the Middle East?

Santa: As a matter of fact, I do. He was a refugee named Yahshua bin Joseph. But he’s dead now. He gave his life for the cause.

Officers: Sir, can you put your hands behind your head?

Santa: Wait. Am I under arrest? For what?

Officers: Crossing the border illegally. No papers. Suspected terrorist acts. Look, we just don’t believe your story. We know most of the people who come into America are rapists and terrorists. And some of them–we assume–are good people We’re going to have to take you in for more questioning

Santa: And what about the guy who shot my reindeer?

Officers: He’s a card-carrying member of the NRA. The second amendment gives him the right tocarry a gun, and all he was doing, ostensibly, was hunting.

The moral if this story is that everyone with a different accent and skin color is not a threat. We must learn to love people of all races, creeds and ethnicities. The secondary lesson behind this tale is this:

If you don’t get anything for Christmas this year, blame Republicans.

Merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night.

P.S. If anyone wants some reindeer meat, hit me up.

 

About the author

Michael Harriot is a renowned spoken word poet, the host of The Black One podcast and the editor-in-chief of NegusWhoRead. He is perpetually just getting warmed up because he has no chill. He is on Instagram and twitter as @michaelharriot

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