News to Peruse, Amuse, and Confuse

Brandon Ferguson, Fake News Editor

Twas the Plight of Porno
Christmas

While Mr. Ferguson is a funny fella, and every-
one loves a good Christmas tale—the following
may not be suitable for all girls and boys.
Please address your hate mail and lumps
of coal to the writer, not the paper.
—Editor

aiting solemnly
\ X ) in the North
Pole Mounted
Police’s (NPMP) deten-
tion centre last Saturday,
miner Yukon Cornelious
sat charged with running
an underground elf
pornography ring. A
friend of reindeer and foe
of Abominable Snowman,
Cornelious adamantly claimed
innocence while awaiting a trial
date.

“This is all one big mis-
take. I’m just a patsy,” he
said from behind a glass
partition, fingering his
long beard. “I’m a
prospector and a
miner, not a prospector
of minors. The police have been out to
get me for years. Whatever Hermey is say-
ing is a lie.”

Police wouldn’t: confirm or deny
whether Hermey the elf played a central
part in the pornography ring or in
Cornelious’ arrest, but an anonymous
source confirmed that Hermey was the
heavy who brought the ring down.

“T was there when Hermey made the
call,” Ben Affleck said, his name changed
for his protection. “Hermey couldn’t han-
dle the shame of elf pornography any
longer. He kept saying how Yukon was
demanding more and more of him, doing
some really freaky shit. I even heard
there’s a snuff film out there with
Hermey, four reindeer, a two-headed
vibrating candy cane, and Mrs. Claus.”

“Tm definitely glad that I was never
asked to play in those reindeer games,”
Affleck added.

For now, police are only saying that
they’ve been made aware of an “intricate
web of duplicitous activity that has affect-
ed every citizen of the North Pole.”

“We have in our possession some

   
  
 
 
  
   
   
   
  
 
 
  

materials that go well beyond the norms
of good taste,” said NPMP spokesperson,
Abby Snowman. “We are currently hold-
ing a person of interest for interrogation,
but we believe the depravity may reach
even deeper and are not ruling out further
arrests.”
The Other Press has obtained docu-
ments that detail the extent of the
pornography ring, including a list of
pornos made by RudeElf
Productions. Titles
such as Jingle Balls:
Santa’s Big Toy Sack and
Donner Does the
Dakotas
available for
$30 apiece. A
variety-of sex-
ual products
were also available
for purchase, includ-
ing a line of Pere
Noél Prophylactics.
All money orders
wete payable to
Whitehorse, Yukon.
After lawyers
from the Santa’s
Legal __ Helpers
firm secured
Cornelious’
release on bail, I
met with the prospec-
tor to discuss RudeElf Productions.
Wearing a fur coat, Elvis glasses, and
licking his jewel-encrusted ice pick,
Cornelious responded to the allegations
that “Whitehorse” was a cover for him.
“That’s ludicrous, baby,” he said, sip-
ping Alisé from a goblet. “I’ve been
walking the straight and narrow ever since
I took down the Abominable Snowman.
Yukon’s a legend in this land. Yukon’s big-
ger than St. Nick. Yukon’s larger than life.

are

rd

Don’t nobody do more good for this ice- -

berg than big poppa Yukon, beeyatch.”

I asked when Cornelious had last spo-
ken to Hermey, the elf he saved from the
Abominable along with Rudolph, and the
miner exploded in choppy animated rage.

“That little prick done Yukon some
setious wrong,” he seethed, walking in
awkward circles with mechanical steps.
“Who he owe for everything he got? It’s
Yukon. Who he owe for his life? It’s
Yukon. I loved that boy like he was my
own, beeyatch. Then he plays ol’ Yukon
like a fool? Fuck dat, yo. Fuck dat like a
two-headed dildo.”

When pressed for more information
on the subject and the dildo, Cornelious
stuttered and asked me to leave, claiming:
“Me and my lovelies have some biznass to
attend to.”

Having reached a dead end, I again
met with my anonymous soutce to see if
I could find Hermey, who hadn’t been
seen in weeks.

“He’s in hiding,” said Affleck, who—
having seen him—I must say has a nose
that glows. “I...[...can’t say where he is. No
one knows. Will you excuse me for a
moment?”

My source left for the washroom, and
returned far more animated and excited.
His clay eyes were glazed over and his
pupils were pinpricks.

“Yeah, yeah, I can get you to see him!
Totally totally totally, we can go now. Not
then, but now. Yeah, now! But first a
drink. Barkeep! Two whiskeys and a nap-
kin please. Hey, hey! Do you think I can
touch my nose with my tongue? Yeah,
yeah, I can take you to see him.”

Affleck led me to a shanty elf hut on
the outskirts of town, where I was met by
Hermey.

His blonde hair was thinning in places
and his formerly shiny eyes looked tired
and dull. He wasn’t wearing a shirt, his
pants were stained and held up by tinsel,
and track marks lined his arms like
reindeer prints in the snow. We fol-
lowed Hermey into a
candle-lit room where
he slumped on to a
mattress. Drug para-
phernalia, empty bottles
of Peppermint Schnapps, and
old pizza crusts cluttered the
floor.

Affleck sat down and began
cooking smack.

“This is what I’ve been reduced to,”
Hermey said, after clearing his throat
of what seemed a decade’s worth of
phlegm. “And it’s all Whitehorse’s
fault—that’s his nickname, you know.
Yukon fucking Whitehorse god-
damned Cornelious. The great
prospector of minors. Gimme that
damned crack, red-nose.”

“It’s cooking, it’s
cooking,” Affleck said.
“Hold up a_ second.
You’re worse than that
bitch I almost married.”

“How did things get like this?” I
asked Hermey.

Scratching his forearms, the former
golden boy of the North Pole sighed and
told his story.

“After Yukon saved me and Rudy
here...”

“No names, damnit!” Affleck barked.

“Anyways, after the Abominable
attack, we were riding high and living the
good life—keys to the city, unlimited use
of Santa’s sleigh, all the toys and candy
canes we could carry. It lasted for years,
but Yukon wanted more. He started see-
ing Mrs. Claus on the sly, and had a couple
Thai-boy elves on the side. Then he got in
to the drugs, and he started filming his
sexual exploits and selling them.”

Asked how this could go on without
Santa’s knowledge, Hermey and Affleck
laughed.

“You think that fat fuck doesn’t know
about this?”’ Hermey asked. “He takes the
biggest cut of all. Where do you think all
the toys come from? The goodness of his
heart? He needs the cash for the toys so
that he can avoid suspicion. Christmas,
cash, and pornography—they’re all the
same by different names, man.”

Suddenly the door was kicked in, and
standing in the doorway was Santa.

He was chubby and plump, a right jolly
old elf; and I laughed when I saw him, in
spite of myself. He spoke not a
word, but went straight to his
work; and filled all the stock-
ings, then turned into a jerk.
And laying his finger, inside of
his nose; He

gave a deep
snort, and his
upper lip
rose.

I sprang out
the window,
and to his
team he whis-
tled; and away
I flew, like the

down of a this-
tle. But I heard
him exclaim, ere I

ran from his
Saye ht 4
Mee -£ fy
Christmas to
all. And to all a good
night.”

   
 
 
 
 
 
   
 
  
 
  
 
  
 
 
  
  
 
 
  

becember = 8/20nn