It seems David became a department store Santa. What a perfect fit; it's almost like acting -- just like he's almost been doing for almost his whole life! Anyway, he graduated from Santa Class (after he graduated from anger management class, that is). It was a close call, though, because he kept growling at the Santa trainer, "You call that getting into character? I Goddamn know how to get into character! I was Hutch, dammit!" He nearly scared the poor woman to death! Obviously, she doesn't know what a sweetheart he is deep down. Deep, deep down.
But he graduated nonetheless, mostly because he was slightly less drunk than the other candidates, or at least didn't pass out face-first out of his chair like some of them did. Here's a picture of him with his classmates. Always the entertainer, our David!
It looked as if things were going David's way for a change, at least until last weekend. I guess the line of children waiting to see Santa was really, really long, making David late getting his scotch-and-cigarette break. He started to shake a little, and when a little boy asked him, "Are you okay, Santa?" David snapped, "Would you just get on with it, you little puke?" The weak little sissy-boy started to cry!
Then, another little boy asked for Star Wars figures. David asked, "How about some Starsky and Hutch dolls?" Confused, the tyke asked, "Are those for girls? 'Cause I only like action figures." Irate, but controlling his rage (you can do it, David!), our star responded through gritted teeth, "No, it was a very, VERY popular show in the 1970's. Just like Star Wars was from the 70's."
"Oh, yeah!" the youngster perked right up, "Star Wars is a classic! But I've never heard of Stumpy and Butch. Was it a sci-fi movie, too?"
"Just get off my lap!" David bellowed. By then, David's patience had worn thin. "Next," he scowled. The next child cowered behind her mother's skirt. "NEXT!" he snarled, insistently.
The children, trembling with fear, stood still. As David glared at them, he noticed someone... familiar... walking past the fine jewelry case. Was that... his ex wife? It was! Walking arm and arm with some stockbroker-looking motherfucker! Laughing! Touching! She had given up on them baby: completely!
He lept from Santa's throne, scattering screaming children in every direction. The elves tried to maintain order, but pandemonium had broken loose! David had lost sight of the couple in the ensuing chaos, until he spotted them at the main entrance into the mall.
David began to wail uncontrollably as deftly sprinted after them, grabbing whatever weapons he could find on his way. The chase was on, with David waving an oversized golf umbrella in one hand, and a power massager in the other. "Feel the wrath of David Soul, you heartless bitch!" he shouted, spittle flying from his lips. But his triumphant exit into the mall was blocked by store security, the bane of his existence.
Oblivious to their narrow escape, the happy couple continued on their way as David was unceremoniously wrestled to the floor. "Let me go! Let me GO! I'm a cop!" he insisted. "Yeah, buddy, we know all about it," said the firm yet sympathetic guard. "Let's go."
Once again, David found himself in the hospital, restrained. But on a lighter note, I hear they serve turkey and stuffing on Christmas Day! With a spoon, of course. We love you, David! Get well soon!
*Again, "discovered" means "fabricated."
