I'm walking down the street in a red velvet suit and a dirtied white beard around my neck like a necklace because I have no idea what I got into last night. Stumbling past the open doors of stores playing Carol of the Bells and Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, children are coming up to me with their lists of toys they hope to see under the tree. I'm halfway through my cigarette, holding my bottle in a brown paper bag, telling this one kid he's a spoiled, greedy, little brat and trying to figure out why his mom is letting him talk to me. But then I notice she's playing on her cell phone and couldn't give a fuck about her son.
After I flick my cigarette toward his mom and tell the kid to fuck off, I make my way to the Goodwill because, you know, it's sort of my job.
Browsing the aisles, I hear a small Mexican child shout, "Santa!"
"Sorry, Pedro," I say. "I'm an impostor," and I pull the beard up over my face, gesturing to keep quiet with my index finger over my lips.
I go to the clothing section and trade my costume for a three piece suit, undressing right there. A clerk yells at me and tells me I can't try on the clothes in the middle of the store. I hold up a ten and he backs off.
I put my Santa suit on the hanger and put it on the rack and head over to the electronics. I grab a VCR off the shelf and go to check out.
I pay four dollars for the VCR and walk out, totally forgetting to pay for the suit.
ADDENDUM: The VCR is a Sony SLV N-88. I don't know shit about it. I don't own a TV. But the suit is nice. Pinstripes. If only it fit right.
