My first ever blog post is dedicated to the biggest son of a gun I have ever met. Many people have said many things about him: a liar, a cheater, a fool. Even though these things could be true, I would add “friend” to that list. Heck, I would even go as far as to say “loyal companion”. The trials and tribulations of his life turned him into a villain, but somehow, some way, he would die a hero. This is the story of Ballcheesy.
Chapter 1
When I met him, he was already at his worst. He was dumpster-diving in the back of Kohl's, where I worked as Santa Claus. Weirdly, the manager of this Kohl's thought it would be a great idea for Christmas to be an all-year-round thing. Now, let me tell you something. I wasn't the best Santa Claus. I must've been 21-22 years old, and during this time, I wasn't the most extraverted person. If anything, I would say that I was the exact opposite of Santa Claus: not jolly and didn't like anyone.
So I was sitting on Santa's throne, greeting customers and what have you, when a customer asked me something crazy.
"Can I get a ho-ho?"
"Huh?" It completely caught me off guard. The most I was doing was taking pictures, but because I responded with a "huh?", he had to get smart.
"You're Santa Claus, aren't you?"
"Yeah."
"So can I get a ho-ho? A Santa Claus is only as good as his 'ho-ho'." I looked at him, then looked at my little elf helper, and then back at him. With the deepest, bassiest voice I could muster, I said "No." I then detached myself from the throne and made my way towards the back to take my break.
So I get outside to take a quick hit of my crack pipe when he popped his head out of the dumpster. The speed and movement were comparable to one of those little whack-a-mole creatures. It startled me so badly that it nearly deactivated my pacemaker.
"Jesus Christ, man, what the fuck are you doing in there?" I yelled.
"My bad friend, I need clothes for this winter coming up. It's going to get brutal and I need to prepare," he replied.
"Brother, it's July."
"Listen, Israel needs a win this year after their debacle in Turkey. The only way for them to make up for this loss is to make this winter brutally cold." At this point, I was very scared of him, and the way he spoke was off-putting as well. He had some sort of speech impediment where he ended most words with some sort of -ahh or -maahh, and his voice would fluctuate between high and low pitch. He continued, "Also, this is the time when Kohl's gets rid of their winter inventory. Is that what I think it is?" I completely forgot I was holding a crack pipe.
"It is."
"Can I take a couple of hits?"
"Can you throw five? Running kind of low, and this is the only thing that helps with headaches."
"Throw you a five?" He then launches himself out of the dumpster as if he were on a pogostick. He lands in front of me and says, "Check this out." He rummages through his pocket; almost elbow-deep in these very baggy, tan cargo shorts. "Let me see your hand." I open my palm up in front of him and he drops a little gold nugget. It's about the same size as one of those Willy Wonka's Nerds. I don't respond. I just look at him and put the little gold nugget into my back pocket.
We hung out for another 10 minutes, talking about our past lives. I was nothing more than a stranger to him, and yet he had no problem opening up to me about his trauma or the weird crimes he'd committed. I won't get into the details of either of these things. The biggest detail I will share though is that he truly believes his dad is Dr. Eggman and swears that he was born from a tube. I tried telling him that Dr. Eggman isn't real and maybe he should seek help. He whipped out his phone and said, "Take a look at this." It was a photo of a very circular man with no neck and a handlebar mustache. He was completely knocked out on his couch with his mouth hanging wide open, wearing nothing more than a red hoodie and round shades.
"And now explain THIS." He then lifts his shirt up to show that his belly button is missing. "Go ahead and explain that!" All I could do was just stare at him because I'm not a scientist. I didn't even know that was possible.
"Listen, I've got to get back inside. Hopefully, I'll never have to see you again," I responded. "So yeah, see ya," I added, breaking away from our little huddle next to the stinky-ass dumpster. Little did I know this wish wouldn't come true.
To be continued...
If you got this far into the read, just know that I appreciate you. I was going to write something quickly, but the more I wrote, I thought this would be more fun as a small series. If you enjoyed what you read, let me know what you think. If you hated it, then that's fine too. The last time I wrote anything was 10 years ago when I was in high school. I had fun trying though. Take care and stay safe. Here's a picture of me when I was Santa Claus:
