Well, Heavens. The Apocalypse Itself must be upon us. I actually got this yuletide missive MAILED before Christmas! What with COVID and the Antelope Valley’s hardscrabble life, it’s good to keep the fam up to holiday speed. I’m happier than a coyote with two reproductive appendages.
Speaking of, our niece/nephew, Diega Verga, is recuperating nicely from his 12 sex change operations. (Just like the 12 Days Of Christmas!!) Somehow, DV acquired a dozen 75%-off coupons to the Palmdale/Caltrans Sex Change Clinic. Guess The Palmdale Purgatory Monthly letters-to-the-editor writer stole several boxes from his parents’ prune wine collection, got blottoed and took advantage of the holiday sale. Wakes up underwearless in a strip mall outpatient office with near-fatal, ahem, diareekie. Worse? Naked, Diega looks like a porno Christmas sweater with 12 extra second and third base units randomly sutured into his epidermal, two male XY ecto-genders being uncircumcised. Cousin Candy, nurse and Palmdale’s only topless Western Union singing telegram deliverer, guesses said units are Lebanese. We called Cousin Heck. Heck’s currently home on a temporary dishonorable discharge from fighting in Syria (which Wikipedia swears is next to Lebanon). Heck says Diega’s new male naughty parts reminded him of something “under the counter” he saw at a farmer’s market in Beirut, which is pronounced like the “root” in “root beer” and not like deer making babies. Heck spent three months in the brig over there for attempting to export a camel back home here to Palmtucky for barbecue purposes, which caused an international incident because the camel is Syria’s national animal. That’s like us cooking a bald eagle for Thanksgiving. Remember? Bobby Dale five years back? Now THAT was a whopper of a federal fine…
Diega said tell Santa to bring him Fruit of the Loom special body suit adult diapers, XXXS, for Christmas because he’s gotta go tinkie now every six minutes. Diega confesses, yes, TMI, but when 12 new units erupt simultaneously, he looks like an Italian fountain.
Many relatives won’t be trekking home for Christmas. The twins, Darrell and Lamonica, got high-paying jobs with the Democratic Party, stuffing ballot boxes. They’re still in Arizona and won’t finish with the November election for another three years. Those boys. How hard is it to burn paper?
Pearblossom’s Uncle Quirk is living large and, not meant literally, on his eighth wife, Bathsheba. Fabricating they were homeless, Los Angeles City invoked eminent domain and put them up for six months in a tony five-star hotel, free everything, cable to foot massage. Maybe communism isn’t so bad. Guess Santa’s bringing all 100% Egyptian cotton bath sheets and little fancy hotel soap balls come 12/24/22!!
(If Diega’s reading, no offense meant at the “soap balls” reference.)
Speaking of little white lies, lovely cousin Lolita Jr. fibbed RE: her age and is currently disrobing three shows nightly at Cam Smyth’s, that cozy biker bar nestled in the Sierra Pelonas. Lolita’s mother, Lolita Sr., found where Lolita Jr. hid her diary and is so proud. Seems Lolita Jr.’s dream is to someday meet Hunter Biden, Democrat, and bear his lovechild! Not that any of us are going to be in President Sniffy Joe’s Christmas family photo. But, still…
Good news! Come January, many of the clan will be released early when Sacramento completely empties ALL prisons! Wife beaters. Husband beaters. We’re all roaming the streets!! Que Dieu bénisse la liberté!
Aunt Lucy’s pregnant again. Number 38. Lucy assures it’s not all about the welfare. Lucy has sights on the Guinness Book of World Records! The current mark for dropping babies from one woman is 1,106 and that’s from that gal who lives under a leaking nuclear reactor in Kazakhstan’s majestic Ural Mountains. Hmmm. With all that abundance of sexual organs and misplaced pubic hair, wonder if Diega can have children? His Indian name could be, “Ten Uteruses.” Or “Octomom.” Or maybe just, “Octomoron.” Chugging six cartons of prune wine. Right before a government-paid-for operation. Pfffft.
Vern and Sheila’s “special needs” boy, Shelby, is scheduled for release a week before Christmas from Camp Frew Youth Fire Camp for that manger theft and subsequent shoot-out last December at the 112,016th Street Lutheran Church display. I place quotes around “special needs” in that whenever Shelby “needs” anything, he has tendency to just take it. Just like his mother. Do recall Sheila acquired Vern 240 moons ago when she just took a liking to Vern during a convenience store robbery, shot his then-wife cold dead and ordered Vern into the car. Vern, being the mumbling, pipe-smoking, B-type passive personality, sort of just quietly went along with the new gig.
Maverlynn has fallen in love with that “Yellowstone” TV series and has legally renamed everyone in her family — husband, children, pets, kitchen appliances, rusting 1989 Bronco II — to “John Dutton.” Day and night, the woman kneels in front of a dark TV screen, lighting candles and chanting for dark forces to suck her into the boob tube and magically into Kevin Costner’s arms. Like Costner would date a one-ton Anabaptist on enough food stamps to feed Sunland/Tujunga.
Ohhhhh, gollygosh. Look at this. Out of space. So many relatives I’ve left off. Like the Kardashians. And Linda Storli. The quads? Jaywalking took one of ’em. Grandpa Ed turned 104 in November, went outside and was promptly eaten by coyotes. Didn’t take long, him being 104. No word yet from Aqueduct Bob. AB sailed overseas to help fight in “The Ukraine.” But, Bob, never the brightest crayon, thought they were saying — “The Yukon.” May AB found, if not gold, then a good Alaskan sled dog. Clarice? Due to her many conjugal visits, Clarice contracted something green and wiggly that Pig Latin scientists like to call an, “ear-nay, atal-fay, ash-ray…”
Whelp. Merry Christmas. And don’t forget to shoplift me something nice for the holidays!
John Boston is a local writer. He strongly suspects many of you are still searching for That Perfect Christmas Gift so go visit his website — johnbostonbooks.com — and shoplift — er, BUY — some great books. Merry Christmas!
