How Sexy is Mrs. Claus?

How sexy is Mrs. Claus these days?

You tell me!

Santa is a very lucky man …

https://www.pinterest.com/harlowepilgrim/mrs-claus/

-Harlowe Pilgrim

Harlowe Pilgrim’s books are available at Amazon, iBooks,     Smashwords.com, Books-A-Million, and most other online booksellers.

Follow on Twitter @ https://twitter.com/HarlowePilgrim

Santa and Mrs. Claus Interview, with Harlowe Pilgrim

Hello, this is Harlowe Pilgrim.

When my novel Jesus Vs. Santa wrapped, I conducted a series of interviews with some of its biggest players. The following is my interview with Santa and Mrs. Claus (also known as Kris and Jessica Kringle). 

Pilgrim: Santa Claus and Mrs. Claus! Welcome, it’s good to see you. Ho Ho Ho!

Santa: Ho Ho Ho! I think you stole my line there, Harlowe.

Pilgrim: Well, I’ve written it so many times ...

Mrs. Claus: I’ll say! Jesus Vs. Santa is full of Ho Ho Ho’s!

Santa: Full of Ho’s? Ho Ho Ho!

Pilgrim: (laughs) I think you mean …

Mrs. Claus: Yeah, the laughing kind of Ho Ho Ho’s—not the skanky streetwalking kind.

Pilgrim: I’m glad we got that straightened out.

Santa: Yeah, I thought I missed something there, for a minute. I was just about to re-read the book!

Pilgrim: Maybe you should—Jesus told me he edited a few things.

Mrs. Claus: He did?

Santa: Then I’m probably not reading it again. If he’s been fucking around with it, I probably don’t want to know how.

Mrs. Claus: Agreed. He probably doesn’t.

Pilgrim: So … now that you’re book stars, is life treating you any differently?

Santa: Don’t forget kid, we’ve appeared in lots of books over the years. But I have to say, ever since we appeared in Jesus Vs. Santa, my wife is sure getting a lot more interview requests. And requests for photo shoots. And video shoots. The adults only media seems particularly interested, for some reason.

Mrs. Claus: He says you made me a sex symbol, Harlowe.

Pilgrim: Whoa, that’s giving me a whole lot of credit I don’t deserve. At most, I helped expose you as a sex symbol.

Santa: That’s fair enough.

Pilgrim: I’d like to know how the world ever got the impression she was the old, grandmotherly type anyhow.

Mrs. Claus: I think it was all those other books, and the TV specials and things. I have tended to keep kind of a low profile over the years, so I bet they just went ahead and gave me an appearance that was age appropriate for Santa.

Santa: Age appropriate for Santa? Ho Ho Ho! That’s …

Mrs. Claus: Ridiculous, we know.

Pilgrim: That is not how Santa rolls.

Santa: Ho Ho Ho! Not so long as I can help it! I think I’ll stick with hot blondes.

Mrs. Claus: Ahem.

Santa: Hot blonde. That’s what I meant to say, Jessica Kringle.

Pilgrim: (laughs) So how about you, Santa? Has the book made you a sex symbol?

Santa: I’ve always been a sex symbol, Ho Ho Ho!

Mrs. Claus: Yeah, to himself. I doubt his sex symbol-ness has occurred to anyone else, though.

Santa: What do you mean? What woman wouldn’t want a piece of this?

Mrs. Claus: Um … most of them, besides me?

Pilgrim: (laughs) What a thing to say.

Santa: Ho Ho Ho! Yeah, ouch—that kind of hurt.

Mrs. Claus: Now, wouldn’t it be more cruel of me to foster your delusions?

Santa: Damn … now I’m delusional, too. Maybe fostering my delusions would be a little nicer.

Pilgrim: I find you sexy, Santa. If that makes you feel any better …

Santa: I hope you understand, it really doesn’t.

Mrs. Claus: I’m mostly kidding anyways, you nut.

Pilgrim: (laughs) I thought we all were.

Santa: Ho Ho Ho! Of course … I … was just kidding … the whole fucking time.

Pilgrim: We knew that.

Santa: Wait—so don’t really find me sexy, Harlowe?

Mrs. Claus: Ahem …

Pilgrim: Yes, well, moving right along …

Santa: Hey—are you two just trying to change the …?

Mrs. Claus: Subject? Who, us?

Pilgrim: Santa, we’re trying nothing of the sort. Frankly, I’m a little insulted. So, how about them elves?

Santa: The elves? What about them?

Pilgrim: They seem kind of … well, short, for starters.

Mrs. Claus: Yes. They’re elves.

Santa: Yup. That’s the stereotype—tiny little elves. That’s why they appear so small in the book.

Pilgrim: Aren’t they always that small?

Santa: Nope. Jesus Vs. Santa is chocked full of special effects, and those little buggers are one of ‘em.

Mrs. Claus: Kris …

Pilgrim: You mean to tell me and our audience that the elves were only small for the book?

Santa: Yup. It was all just book movie magic.

Mrs. Claus: Really, Kris …

Santa: It’s true. In real life, we’ve got some elves as tall as pro basketball players. And they can dunk with the best of them.

Pilgrim: Really? I had no …

Santa: Nah, not really, Ho Ho Ho! I was just fucking with you.

Pilgrim: Aw, you were?

Mrs. Claus: You took the bait, Harlowe.

Santa: You sure did, Ho Ho Ho! Sink, line, and hooker.

Pilgrim: Isn’t the phrase, ‘hook, line, and sinker’?

Santa: Well, maybe it is, but good luck getting a sinker to turn tricks for cash!

Mrs. Claus: Can’t say I didn’t see that one coming.

Santa: Which one coming? The hooker? Ho Ho Ho! Then she shouldn’t get money too, should she?

Pilgrim: Not really sure how that works, Santa.

Santa: You know who I ask all my whore questions, don’t you?

Mrs. Claus: Oh no …

Santa: Ho Ho Ho! That’s right—our little friend, Mary Magdalene.

Pilgrim: Mrs. Jesus Christ.

Mrs. Claus: I feel so bad when you guys rag on Mary for all the prostitute bullshit.

Santa: Come on, honey. We tease because we love.

Pilgrim: She seems to take it okay. And she gives as good as she gets, from what I’ve seen.

Santa: Not only that, but Jesus thinks it’s funny. How bad could it be, if the Prince of Peace is okay with it?

Mrs. Claus: You of all people should know the answer to that, Kris.

Pilgrim: That’s a hell of a point, actually. Don’t you remember the shit that happened in Jesus Vs. Santa? Maybe you should re-read the book.

Santa: Yeah, well some of that was kind of troubling … and unpleasant, but … Ho Ho Ho! A joke’s still a joke, right?

Pilgrim: (laughs) Yeah, I guess it is.

Mrs. Claus: (sighs) You guys are something else.

Santa: You are too, sweetie pie.

Pilgrim: Aw, shucks.

Santa: Ho Ho Ho! I did not call you ‘sweetie pie’, kid. But I could go for some.

Mrs. Claus: Always.

Pilgrim: Well, on that note, I guess I’ll let you guys go. Thank you so much for coming in.

Santa: You’re welcome. Coming in was our pleasure.

Mrs. Claus: You’re such a pig, Kris. Bye Harlowe.

Pilgrim: Goodbye, guys.

-Harlowe Pilgrim

Copyright 2012 Cock and Bull Publishing, LLC

This piece appears in the ebook Harlowe Pilgrim's Oh My Words! 2012

Harlowe Pilgrim’s books are available at Amazon, iBooks,     Smashwords.com, Books-A-Million, and most other online booksellers.

Follow on Twitter @ https://twitter.com/HarlowePilgrim

Santa and Mrs. Claus in Bed

(Chapter Fifty-Nine from the novel Jesus Vs. Santa by Harlowe Pilgrim)

“Oh, baby,” moaned Mrs. Claus, “you’re getting me sooo good tonight.”

“Thanks, honey.” Santa was breathing hard. “I’m doing my best.”

“I can tell. And you feel like you grew two sizes!”

“I don’t think I did, but thanks anyways. You really have me going—I could drive nails with this son of a bitch tonight!”

“You just hold my legs up, and keep doing what you’re doing. Oh God! It feels like you got bigger.”

“I thought you just got tighter.” Santa reached down and wrapped his thumb and forefinger around the base of his burrowing shaft. “Holy shit! I am getting bigger!”

“Oh, baby! Are you all right, Kris? Maybe it’s something you ate. Do you want to stop?”

“Fuck no! You just keep your ass right where it is.”

“Okay. Oh, God! You just got bigger again!”

“Are you sure you’re okay, honey? I don’t want to hurt …”

“Ohhhhh Godddd! Shut up and fu… Ohhhhh Godddd!”

“Shutting up and fucking, honey … shutting up and fucking.”

“Good boy, Kris! Ohhhhh Godddd! Goood boy!”

“Whoa! Holy shit!” Santa felt down between their legs again. “Fuck! It’s as big around as a baseball bat! My hand doesn’t even reach around it!”

“Are you okay, Kris? Whats’ going on … Ohhhhh Godddd! It feels so good, but … oh fuck! You have to get that out of me! Kris! You’re going to split me in half!”

“Okay … I … uh … wait a minute … holy shit! What the … I can’t stop fucking!”

“What? You always say that! Oh Kris! You … your cock is getting HOT!”

“It is! Ahhh! I can feel it too! I don’t know why, but I can’t pull it …”

“OUT! KRIS! Get that thing out of me! You’re going to split me right up the …”

“Oh Jess! I feel that feeling coming on …”

“KRIS! TAKE IT OUT! It’s burning hot! I can’t take it—I’m going to BURST!”

“Oh, baby!” Santa said. “I’M GOING TO BLOWWWW!!!”

The mushroom cloud erupted high into the air, as Santa, Mrs. Claus, and the whole damn State of Hawaii were vaporized in a flash of atomic passion.

“Whoa!” Santa woke suddenly, and bolted upright. “What the … did my dick explode?” He lifted the sheet, and breathed a sigh of relief. “Goddamn … that was a fucking dream?” He looked down at his side, and saw his wife snoring peacefully into her pillow. “Where the hell does a dream like that come from?” He shook his head. “I don’t even want to know.”

Drenched in sweat, his heart still pounding, Santa stole off for the bathroom. He peeked back at his wife, just to make sure she was still there, and pinched himself, to make sure he was really there.

A piss, a face washing, and a cool drink of water later, Santa settled back into bed, and waited for sleep to come. He noted the clock on the table next to the bed showed 1:03 AM, and closed his eyes.

He fought for what seemed like an eternity to get back to sleep, but thanks to the ceaseless noise of his own wheels turning, he never made it under.

The clock displayed 1:04 AM when next he opened his eyes.

“Oh, you’re going to play it that way, are you?” He sat back up, got out of bed, and started feeling around in the dark for the clothes he’d cast off before rocking and rolling with the Mrs. at bedtime.

Except for the wedgie he got for mistaking his wife’s thong for his own boxer shorts, he was able to get himself dressed in the dark with nary a hitch. “I don’t know how Jess wears those things,” he said, “but at least I won’t have to floss my ass-crack again anytime soon.”

###

Read the other 92 Chapters of Jesus Vs. Santa!

Harlowe Pilgrim’s books are available at Amazon, iBooks,     Smashwords.com, Books-A-Million, and most other online booksellers.

-Harlowe Pilgrim

Copyright 2012 Cock and Bull Publishing, LLC

Follow on Twitter @ https://twitter.com/HarlowePilgrim

Jesus Vs. Santa - Chapter 3

Jesus Vs. Santa

By Harlowe Pilgrim

Copyright 2012 Cock and Bull Publishing, LLC

Chapter Three

“Jesus, honey?”

“Yeah?”

“I was just thinking about something.”

Jesus groggily rubbed his eyes. “That’s good to know. About anything in particular?”

“You know how you’ve been a little ... down … over your birthday?”

“Yeah, I guess maybe I have been a little bit ornery.”

“Yes … a little. Anyhow, what if we went away for a little …”

“Shock therapy? I don’t know—it didn’t seem to help much last time.”

“… vacation. A vacation—it’s not shock therapy, but I think it would be good for us.”

“Vacation, eh? That could be nice, except you know how whenever you take me anywhere, you always end up saying you can’t take me anywhere?”

“I do recall saying that,” Mary said.

“So what about it? Probably makes it a non-starter, right?”

“I think it would be just the thing to perk you up.”

“What about my track record of bad behavior?”

“Can’t you try to be on your best behavior this time?”

“I guess I can try to be on my best behavior, but …”

“Well, I guess that will have to do—what more can I ask than your best?” “Besides,” she thought, “the place will be full of other wonderful women trying to put up with their asshole husbands.”

“Hey! I heard that!”

“I knew you would,” she said. “That’s why I thought it.”

... ...

 

Read the other 92 Chapters of Jesus Vs. Santa! 

Harlowe Pilgrim’s books are available at Amazon, iBooks,   Smashwords.com, Books-A-Million, and most other online booksellers.

-Harlowe Pilgrim

Copyright 2012 Cock and Bull Publishing, LLC

Follow on Twitter @ https://twitter.com/HarlowePilgrim

Jesus Vs. Santa - Chapter 2

Jesus Vs. Santa

By Harlowe Pilgrim

Copyright 2012 Cock and Bull Publishing, LLC

Chapter Two

“And 3 … 2 … 1 … you’re live, Santa!” the cameraman said.

Poised to begin the interview, Santa took a deep breath. “Okay,” he thought, anticipating any second the sound of the popular news anchor’s voice. “Don’t forget to be jolly, and remember to stay the fuck away from politics.”

A long, surprisingly silent moment passed … followed by another … and another.

Santa squinted into the camera. “Bo, what the hell is going on? Where the hell are they?”

The cameraman popped up from behind the camera, scratched his head, and shrugged his shoulders.

“Is the fucking studio broken down again? Goddamn it!” Santa whipped off his earpiece and microphone and stood up out of his chair.

“Everything’s dead, Santa. Sorry.”

“Where the hell is Nigel? We’ve got to get this shit fixed, on the goddamned double.”

“I … don’t know, Santa. I’ll go find him.” He was already headed for the door.

“Yes!” Santa said, “On the double—please!”

Bo was gone.

“Fucking elves; I get them everything they need … tools … training … and then they screw me like this,” sputtered Santa.

“Hey Santa.” Another elf had entered the studio, lackadaisically slurping the contents from a giant mug, and moving very slowly. “Have you tried this new hot chocolate from the coffee shop? It’s Irish! I wonder if I’m Irish …”

“NIGEL! What the hell are you doing?”

“What do you mean? You almost scared me out of my boots, big guy. I could have spilled my …”

“Sorry I yelled at you,” Santa said, “but we’re in big fucking trouble here. Bo went to find you. The studio’s not working, and I’m supposed to be on TV right now.”

“Oh, shit—I’ll check it out. Here, hold this.” Nigel handed Santa his mug. “But don’t drink it.”

“Wouldn’t think of it,” Santa said. “You know I’m a beer man.”

The elf hustled over to the camera, and began to examine it, before moving on to Santa’s microphone and earpiece, and some of the other studio equipment.

“Hmmm,” he said, stepping over to the large electrical panel on the wall. “Hmmm,” he said again as he surveyed the panel’s contents.

“Nigel!” Bo said as he came through the studio door. “Where the fuck have you been?”

“I’ve been right here, helping,” Nigel said. “Where the fuck have you been?”

“Never mind that shit, you guys,” Santa said. “Are you getting anywhere with this, Nigel? Please say you are.”

“The only problem I see is this,” Nigel said, reaching into the panel. He flipped a switch, and the studio crackled to life.

“And for our Christmas wrap-up this December twenty-sixth,” they heard the perky female voice say over the studio sound system, “we have a special—the most special—Christmas celebrity guest, here for you on the Wake Up World Morning Show.”

“Shit! The interview!” Santa scrambled back into his seat.

Nigel hurried Santa’s microphone and earpiece back into place, and Bo got his ass back behind the camera.

“Santa Claus, please say hello to our television audience.”

“Ho Ho Ho! Good morning—and I hope everyone had a merry Christmas!”

“I’m sure they did, Santa,” the interviewer replied. “At least all of us good little boys and girls did!”

Santa leaned into the camera, a stern expression on his face. “And don’t you forget, young lady—I know exactly which list you are on.”

“Oh, well …” she stumbled.

“Ho Ho Ho! Santa was just having a little fun with you. Kind of awkward though, wasn’t it?”

“I thought so,” Bo whispered to Nigel, who’d joined him behind the camera.

“No, not awkward at all,” said the interviewer. “When you’re good, you know it.”

“I’m sure you do, Ho Ho Ho! Well anyhow, we look for the best in everybody around Christmas. That keeps it fun for me, too.”

Nigel turned to Bo. “You know how the studio wasn’t working before? We should make sure it’s turned on next time.”

Bo nodded his head in agreement.

“So Santa,” the interviewer said, “I’m sure our audience is curious as to just how big a Christmas the world had this year. Do you have any numbers for us?”

“Well, we did add to our business this year, as a matter of fact. We haven’t had a chance to crunch the final numbers yet … but all indications are that we had more good kids this year than ever before.”

“And what do you say to those who suggest that is more a case of the bar being lowered as to what is considered good behavior, and modern society’s reluctance to label their naughty children as naughty?”

“I can assure you that, while the situation you described may well be the case, we at The North Pole are using the same formulas that we always have. There is no inflation of statistics, behavioral or otherwise, where Santa is concerned.” “Jesus,” he thought, “this is starting to feel like a goddamned interrogation.”

“That’s certainly good to hear. Can you tell us, Santa, what will you do now, with Christmas behind you, and the end of the holiday season in sight? Since next Christmas is a whole year away, will you get back to work immediately, or do you take time off?”

“Ho Ho Ho! That’s a great question, and I’m happy to talk about it, because it’s got a great answer. I frankly don’t recall ever having been asked about what happens after Christmas.”

“So why don’t you answer it?” she said. “I mean … fabulous. What happens after Christmas, Santa?”

“Uh … each year after Christmas, what happens upon my return to the North Pole is … essentially, nothing. We shut down for a couple weeks, and relax. Mrs. Claus and I sometimes travel … the elves kick back … we get the chance to recover from the massive Christmas effort—and get ready to ramp up to the next one.”

“Interesting,” she said. “And when do you start watching again, to see who’s naughty or nice, for next year?”

“Oh, that never stops. The nice and naughty lists are constantly updated—we’re always watching.”

“No kidding, Santa. I guess we’d all better keep that in mind.”

“It wouldn’t be a bad idea. In fact, I recommend it.”

“Great advice for all the girls and boys out there,” she said. “Thank you Santa, for being with us this morning. It’s been fascinating, as always.”

“Thank you,” Santa said. “And I’ll be seeing you.”

“Santa Claus, everybody; be good, for goodness sake. Next up: The President undergoes surgery to remove his head from his buttocks—stay tuned.”

“And we’re out,” Bo said.

“Great interview, boss,” added Nigel.

“Thanks, kiss-ass.”

Bo started laughing.

“No, really,” Santa said, “thanks. They make me feel like I’m testifying on the stand sometimes. I think they’re jealous they can’t wear red like I can.”

“Now agree, Nige. Tell him how good he looks.”

“Fuck you, Bo.”

“Bo—don’t forget,” Santa said. “If you make him stop kissing my ass, guess who’s next in line for the job! Ho Ho Ho!”

“See, Bo? Someone has to do it.”

They enjoyed a good laugh together.

After a few minutes, Santa noticed a pretty blond face in the window of the studio door. “Now there’s a sight for tired eyes!” He bade her to join them, and she obliged.

“Hi boys,” she said

It was only then that Bo and Nigel, who were still in the throes of yucking it up, realized they had company. They suddenly clammed up and stood at attention, like a superior officer had just walked in.

“Hi Mrs. Claus,” the elves greeted her in unison.

“At ease, soldiers. And what was so funny? Nigel kissing Santa’s ass again?”

“HA!” Bo laughed. “See? Even she knows.”

“Ho Ho Ho! Don’t worry Nigel—like I said, I’m fine with it.”

“Geez, with friends like you guys,” Nigel said. “Keep laughing. You can all kiss my ass.”

“Aw, come on buddy,” Bo said, “Let’s go have a drink. It’s party time.”

“Okay,” Nigel said. “Bye Mrs. Claus and Santa.”

“Have a good time, boys,” Santa said.

Mrs. Claus waved goodbye, and they watched the elves go. “How was the interview, Kris?”

“Not bad,” Santa answered, “But so far I like after the interview a whole lot better.” He put his arms around her and pulled her close. “Even better now.”

“I bet you’re exhausted.”

“Nah, I’m feeling peppy as hell—for an undead fucking zombie.” He smiled wearily.

She buried her face in his red-suited shoulder, and gave him a hug. He sighed, and patted her on the back. “You know,” he said, “I vaguely remember making some vacation plans …”

“You do?” she said. “I’d question that memory. I recall us having plans … that I made—while you were busy being a workaholic.”

“Yeah. Those plans.”

“Oh, then I guess I know the ones you mean.”

“Tell me, Madam,” Santa evoked his most noble British accent. “Shall we stand around here all day, rather than making haste for our vacation destination?”

“You sound like a butler when you talk like that.”

“Just play along, will you?”

“I meant, Sir,” she said, doing her best American southern belle, “I would most certainly enjoy accompanying you anywhere!”

“I love it when you do voices,” Santa said.

“And I certainly put up with you when you do them,” she replied, still in character. “You big, strong, handsome man!”

“You’re going to make my head swell if you keep talking like that.”

“Unless I’m mistaken, Sir …” She rubbed up against him. “It feels like I already have.”

-Harlowe Pilgrim

Copyright 2012 Cock and Bull Publishing, LLC

Continue to Chapter Three

Harlowe Pilgrim’s books are available at Amazon, iBooks,   Smashwords.com, Books-A-Million, and most other online booksellers.

Follow on Twitter @ https://twitter.com/HarlowePilgrim