There's a war on Christmas. I know this because I killed three people this morning while I was wearing a Santa hat.

I was wearing the hat because every December, I work as a Santa Claus at the mall. I figure, hell, I like to drink and I weigh about 290 - give or take 85. It fills me with Christmas cheer on payday. If my guy doesn't have Christmas Cheer, I get Northern Lights or White Widow. Whatever packs my bowl.

So I'm sitting there at the mall and this kid comes and sits on my lap. So I say, "Ho,ho, ho, little kid. What do you want for Christmas?"   You like that? I came up with that myself.

The kid goes, "Just a beaver."   I'm like, "No Way! That's what I want! Tons of beaver!"

So the kid says, "I have Beaver Fever!"

I'm like, "No way! You are the coolest kid in the f**king world!"

Then I thought that I must be hearing this kid wrong. So I go, "Dude, are you sure I'm hearing you right? You want just a beaver?"

So - I shit you not - the kid jumps up and starts dancing in front of me singing, "I'm like baby, baby, baby, ooooo. Baby, baby, baby, ooooo…."

At that point my manager comes over to me and asks why a six year old boy is trying to give me a lap dance. I tell him - straight up - "This kid is the man. Me and him are gonna go bang all the broads in this mall! Ladies, lose your underwear!"

So the kid stops dancing. Everyone gasps. It was like when I peed on my daughter's wedding cake while they were cutting it all over again.

The kid goes, "No, Mr. Santa. That's not what I meant. I want a Justin Bieber toy. I told the Elf on a Shelf."

WHAT THE HELL IS ELF ON A SHELF?

Turns out that the elf on shelf is a piece of crap people hide around their house to tell their kids that Santa has someone there watching them.

WHAT THE HELL?!

I'm Santa! I'm watching them! Who the f**k needs a Pinochio-looking piece of crap hanging from their light fixtures? Santa sees all! It's in the goddamn song!

"He knows if you've been sleeping, he knows when you're awake. He knows if you've been bad or good so go eat chocolate cake" or some shit.

But no. They need to sell people a toy elf to do my job. Kids can't even play with this creepy thing. They have to have it stare at them like the Three Men and a Baby ghost from the window. Garbage. GARBAGE! F**k you. F**k your elf on a shelf!

Oh wait. I forgot to put quotes around all that. I said that. Out loud. To the kid. Then I slapped his mother in the ass.

Of course, now security is called. The woman's all crying and I go, "Where's your elf on a shelf now, honey? He can't stop me. I ain't afraid of jail! When I get out, I'm coming for you and your elf!"   They hauled me off and questioned me for a while.

Cut to the chase, my public defender wants me to go to alcoholics anonymous. I told him to tell the judge that I do already but I still drink in order to keep myself anonymous. He told me it doesn't work that way. I told him it's Obama's fault.

That's it. I'm done. The war on Christmas is still on and I have more people to check off my "list".    Lock and load, Shelf Elves.