A Calabasa Christmas
HELLO, Calabasha?”
“Ma’m! Thank you for your card!”
“You like? Flenty cash inshide. I hofe you are grateful to me.”
“Very much, Ma’m! It’s just like what you gave Mayor ___. Christmas love!”
“Good. You should be. You shee, the Refublic lovesh you. Wait, my hushband wantsh to talk to you.”
“Yes. M’am.”
“¿Helo? Deutsche Bank, I would like to-“
“Uh, Sir, this is Kapitan Calabasa of Barangay Bansot, I think-“
“¿Eh? Curly cabbages que?”
“No, no, Si, Calabasa!”
“Yuck. I hate calabasa it makes me make pedos, and my wife hates it when I make utot, she says the air displacement makes my stomach wobble, and-”
“Sir! No! Wait, this Kapitan Calabasa of–“
“¡Ah! Escuchame! Hola, hola, Merry Christmas, cabron!”
“Uh, Merry Christmas to you too, Attorney–“
“Si si si si si. Anyway. So, what. What do you want? Are you one of those people attacking me? I will file a–”
“No, Sir, your wife called and said you-“
“Si si si si si. Good. OK. Season’s greetings, joder coño. Ouch! Espera, mi esposa, I mean my wife said not to say that. Wait, ha? Perdoname, mi amor, mi vida, mi corazon, mi pequeña dulce de leche! Ouch, don’t hit me! Ay ay ay-“
“Uh, Sir? Hello?”
“Hello? Calabasha?”
“M’am? Is that you again?”
“My hushband ish an idiot. Forget everything he shaid exshept the Merry Chrishmash fart.”
“Fart?”
“Fart! Fart! Two farts makesh a whole! Shtufid.”
“Oh, of course, Ma’m!”
“Lishten to me. I don’t like theshe ralliesh the shtufid, shtufid bishops have been holding.”
“What do you want us to do, Ma’m? It’s the holidays, I’m sure people aren’t interested for now, anyway…”
“Yesh. Exshactly. They should demonshtrate conshern for the fublic. The only caushe of traffic should be my motorcade. And alsho the motorcadesh of my official family- that’sh flenty of world-clash traffic for all the feofle.“
“Uh, yes, Ma’m.”
“For now. You she, that’sh the froblem. Nexsht year we have May to worry about.”
