Harrowing Headwear Happenings

I was at Urban Outfitters on Black Friday night and happened to pick up a fedora not unlike the one pictured. For whatever reason, I also happened to notice that the tag on the inside read:

"Not for children under 14."

How this hat would be of harm to persons under ANY age is beyond me, but your suggestions are warmly, nay, ferociously invited.

Santa's Slovenly Shenanigans

I texted Santa tonight. The real Santa. Santa Claus. It's true. I found his number online. It's 1224. That's his number. Get it? Like, 12/24. Christmas Eve! How clever. I wonder how famous you have to be to get your cell phone number shortened to a mere four digits. Probably pretty famous.

But I digress. The following is our textual conversation in its entirety:

Me: Are you really Santa?

Santa: Just received your wish list! Isn't it great I can receive texts? even at the North Pole!? I will look over your list now, but you better watch out, you better not cry, you better not pout, I'm telling you why... I'm coming to town soon! Ho Ho Ho! Sincerely, Santa Claus

Me: Thanks for answering my question, Santa. I hate you.

Santa: You're very welcome. Ho Ho Ho! - Santa

Me: You obviously misunderstood.

Santa: Hi there! Nice List! It's the most wonderful time of the year, isn't it? My elves and I have been working hard in our shop. I hope you're staying busy singing carols, hanging mistletoe and above all, being nice! Ho Ho Ho! Sincerely, Santa Claus




Santa is a jackass.



Merry Christmas.

Witches

I was somewhere between the ages of seven and ten. My siblings and I must have been tucked into our beds for a decent amount of time because as I stared at the ceiling from my top bunk, I remember thinking that I was probably the only one still awake. It always made me feel kind of scared when that happened. I was not fond of the stillness of being the only conscious person in a room.

At this point in my life, I was especially fearful of the supernatural. I went through a very long phase of being terrified of witches. On this particular night, I lay there, aware of my every breath, believing that any sudden movement may provoke an unknown entity to action. In my head, I was going through everything I knew about witches. As I was about halfway through my mental witch Rolodex (???) my little sister uttered a phrase from the bottom bunk that caused my blood to curdle and my bones to chill:

"Carsten," she breathed solemnly. "Witches aren't real, you know."

Let's just say I am unaware of how I remained in control of my bladder at that moment. There was absolutely no reason she should have said that. I was not talking about witches earlier in the day. We had not watched a film containing witches anytime in the distant past. It was not common knowledge that I was afraid of witches. I asked her why she said that. She said she didn't know.

So now, whenever a creepy coincidence involving both of us happens, she always says, "Wiiiiiitches!!!!" Yeah, it's cute. But it doesn't change the fact that, to this day, I consider that story one of the most petrifying coincidences of my life.