Free Sausagey Santa by Iii Carlton Mellick

tune in his head while shaving in the mirror.
    “You’re awake,” he says.
    I groan.
    “You’ve missed out on all the presents,” he says.
    I shrug at him and urinate into the toilet. My brain feels sore inside my head.
    After I’m done I just stare at him for a while, watching him shave.
    Then I say, “What are you doing here?”
    He waits until he’s finished shaving to answer me.
    “You know how I said Santa was probably going to leave you special presents under the tree for Christmas?” he says, hopping off of the stool.
    “Yeah,” I say.
    “Well, he’s decided to give each member of your family the gift of your dreams,” he says. “And he’s here to give them to you personally.”
     
     
    Boon leads me out of my room and takes me downstairs.
    As I look over the balcony, I see all the surviving elves lounging around on my furniture. Above them, Angelica is flying around the living room with chainsaw angel wings. The chainsaws buzz as her wings flap.
    “Angelica?” I say.
    She opens her mouth in excitement when she sees me and flies in close. “Look at me, Sly Guy! I’m a real angel! Look at me!”
    “See,” Boon says. “She got the gift of her dreams. She can now fly like an angel.”
    I wish I would have explained to Angelica that angels don’t really use chainsaws for wings.
    I go down the stairs and pass the twins. They are running around the dining room table. Well, one of them is running. Matty is hopping on one foot.
    “What did they get?” I ask.
    “They were given the gift of free movement. They were sick of being strapped to your wife all the time. They wanted to be able to run and play, but couldn’t. So that’s what Santa gave them.”
    “Did Nora get her brain chip?” I ask. “Or, no, if she could have anything I bet she’d want her growth removed . . ”
    “No,” he says. “That’s not what she wanted.”
    “What did she want, then?”
    “She wanted to become the dictator of a small third-world country.”
    “Sounds like Nora,” I say.
    “So, what did I get?” I ask. “I see I didn’t get my old height back. That’s all I really want. Please exchange whatever Santa gave me with my old height.”
    “We’ll see,” he says.
    Tea barges between us, wearing one of my old shirts as a dress and drinking out of my favorite coffee mug.
    “Santa has your present out back,” she says.
    Then she continues on her way. As she passes, she purposely rubs her breasts against me. They feel nice. I check out her body as she walks away. F or some reason, I find her pretty sexy now that I’m at this shrunken down height. She doesn’t creep me out like she did at the North Pole. I don’t feel so bad about being raped by her anymore.
     
     
    My path outside is blocked by a giant robot.
    A big transformer toy is standing eighteen feet off the ground in my backyard, leaning against the side of the house. I guess my wife wanted a real transformer for Christmas . . .
    Boon and I squeeze through the transformer’s legs. It is a big female transformer with torpedo boobs.
    “Sly Fry,” Boon says. “Let me introduce you to your new wife. The Decapitron.”
    “Decapitron?” I ask.
    “Hi, Fry,” she says. Her voice is electronic, but it is still her voice. Her mouth doesn’t move, but a light flashes on and off when she talks. “Check me out.”
    She transforms. The noise she makes while transforming is the same as the noise from the cartoon show. Then she is a big nuclear submarine in the backyard.
    “Pretty nice, huh?” the submarine says.
    It isn’t all that big of a submarine, but fills a good portion of our yard. The hatch on top of the submarine opens up and Burt Reynolds Elf climbs out.
    He waves at me.
    Just great. Not only am I permanently elf-sized, but now I’m married to a giant robot. Sure Decapitron always had the personality of a giant evil robot, but now she looks like one too.
     
     
    “Ready for your present?” submarine Decapitron says.
    Burt