The Really Real Story of Christmas
Written by Davey Gravy
Now that your various holiday celebrations are drawing to a close, you probably think you’re all well versed in the true stories of Christmas Kwanzmas Jewsmas and Wrath of Kahnsmas. Well let me tell you something. Way back before Santa Claus conquered the Martians, before Jesus won the 1984 World Cup, even before acclaimed hobo Captain Jewlopagus pelted passers-by with roman candles for eight holy nights, there was a land of peace and love and rockin’ muthafuckin’ roll. It was in this land, in this time, that the true story of Holiday Fun Time (as it is now called) began. Dan and I have translated this tale of heroism and bloodshed into an easy-to-read, action packed, fully illustrated adventure. Here now is the story as it actually happened.
Chapter 1
In the cold harsh lands of Ancient Newark, life was hard. Dinosaurs roamed, brushes combed, and chrome domed. No one had any respect, as Aretha Franklin was still being grown by scientists and hadn’t had a chance to write any songs yet, and people were just plain violent. Property disputes were often settled by planting sinkholes and bee mines on the opposing land, rather than negotiation. Kids were surrendering themselves to the temptations of pre-marital handholding and that thing where they burn the ants with the magnifying glass. God had had enough.
Deep within his chamber he stirred, restless. “I must put an end to this madness,â€? he boomed, “The world is a shitty place, and I ain’t tryin’ to be no janitor, you dig?â€? The Lord turned to his most trusted henchmen, Buddha Santa and Fred Appleton the Christmas Goose. “I want that mess taken care of, you hear me?â€? Bowing, his loyal subjects did as they were told. Without a breath of sass-mouth, they teleported to their destination: Earth.
They found the planet in turmoil. Everywhere they looked, dust refused to bust, cats refused to be scanned, and just about everyone was getting tang’d. The future of Christmas looked mighty grim. But all was not lost. From the sky, a brilliant fireball came rocketing to the ground, its tail alight with holy atmospheric gases. The three trembled with fear, but lo! An angel of Lord Kimboat appeared before them saying “Be ye the not afraid. For behold I bring you some tidings of great joy. Born to you this night in that crater of there is a savior. He just fell from space, which I hear is pretty big, and I think I saw him shoot lasers once, but that might’ve just been the streaks I’m still getting over. Go thee and look upon him and all that. I’ve got some stuff to do.â€? And so Santa Buddha and Fred Appleton the Christmas Goose ventured forth a couple of yards and beheld. And behold! Lying in the crater, wrapped in swaddling clothes was a babe, a marvel, their savior.
The unbelievable aura of power surrounding the babe held them in awe. And lo! The babe rose up and spake to them. That’s right, spake. His voice rang out over the land and shook the hillsides. All who committed evil deeds met with horrendously graphic melt-filled deaths as the very mountains of Ancient Newark crumbled around them and spewed lava all over their faces and their new carpet that they just fucking had washed not two days ago. The evil goo their bodies created seeped into the earth’s crust, causing global warming, which for some reason caused an ice age. This sudden upsurge in cold weather prompted Bing Crosby or some other fag to write “White Christmasâ€? and put it on loop on winter radio stations for eternity.All seemed well in McDonald Land, but not every foe had been smitten. For lo! In creating the babe, Jesus Hernandez Valencia, Lord Kimboat inadvertently set loose a foe even more deadly than all the bee cannons and dust-buster breakdowns in the world, a foe whose name sent chills down the spines of those who spake it. His existence completed the holy trinity (later called the Blade Trinity) and wherever he went, fear followed him. He was the Holy Ghost.
Chapter 2“Oh shit.” said God’s power trio. The Holy Ghost was bad news, and they knew it. The last time the Holy Ghost showed up he had already been drinking and totally messed up the apartment. It was awful.
“How dare you all! I am the true presence of Christmas! And X-mas! Who is this Christ? Surely his powers cannot compare to my strength, agility and fashion sense? We all know that the true spirit of Christmas is held deep within my bowels, and every December 25th I excrete it all over the world’s children.
Everbody looked down at their feet and tried not to make eye contact with ol’ Ghosty Magoo. “I will not have this! I wish to speak with this lightning infant and settle this fair and square.”
Another flash of lightning struck and the boy wonder quickly appeared exactly in front of the evil and powerful ghost. “I am here almighty spectre! Say to me what you will!” exlcaimed Jesus. After regaining his sensory functions which were temporarily disabled from the huge surge of electricity that had just run through the ground, big H.G. sputtered to a start: “well, I mean, you gotta quit this shit.” Jesus was not impressed. The Holy Ghost started again. “Ever since the day I made the scene, I’ve been the main squeeze. Like I said, I lay down my Christmas feces on all the good little kiddos and then I cut a rug to my hidden lair that I share with a couple of old people. That’s the way it has been and the way it will always be. Just because you’ve decided you want to oblitherate Earth and take over does not mean it’s going to happen. Quit that shit!” “No.” said Jesus. This infuriated the Ghost. “I demand a fight to the death!”
“Look alive young one!” shreiked the uber-casper. He unfulred his mighty lightning sword which had been made personally by Zeus and Vishnu before God had taken over. He held it to the light of the sun (which wasn’t very bright as they hadn’t discovered the sun yet) and let it gleam in the eyes of his toddler foe. The Ghost stood in this dramatic pose for an entire day which really pissed everyone off because now God had to rewind time to December 25 for the story to make sense. Once again, Jesus kept his actions minimal. For some reason he repeated the word “no.” This was almost too much for the Ghost to bear. He quickly made the first attack.
Before his blade could touch Jesus’ supple flesh, Christ Master Flex teleported everyone high atop mount Baloneycheckers.
Do you accept me as your pwn personal savior?” asked Jesus in a quasi-demonic voice. “It depends on how good your long distance plan is…” returned the Holy Ghost with a subtle smirk on his face. Than with one line Jesus changed the face of Christmas forever: “it’s the pits.”
The Holy Ghost fell to his doom and Christ became the King of December. As we all know, everyone loves a happy ending, so all you kids can rest assured that the feces you eat on Christmas Day comes from none other than Jesus Christ.
