Open Season On Cars With Reindeer Horns Begins


OK, message to everyone who still has those reindeer horns on their 2012 Silver Toyota Sienna: fuck you. “Oh how cute is that red reindeer nose on my dirty silver sedan?!” It’s not, it doesn’t spread cheer, doesn’t make me smile, doesn’t even make me want to do an act of kindness for another human person, it makes me want to endure a broken neck and full body paralysis after I jump the median and ram my car into yours in a head on collision. That being said, there is no constitutional amendment that will allow this, so I can only lie in wait, seething and frothing at the lips. Come February 29th, I will be the one laughing very extra hard, as open season on your pitiful automobile decorations finally begins. Those eyelashes on the headlights decorations are ok, nice to look at, a little too flirtatious for a man of my nature… well not too flirtatious I suppose, I think that they are ok to look at but nothing else, I don’t even think about them when I get home and finally take off my full camouflage outfit, why would I think about them when I stand there and the cold catches my bare hairless chest and nipples? They say that the fresh liver of recently slain quarry gives the hunter power and strength beyond his years, so when I finally consume your merciful battery and let its sweet juices drip down my throat, I will know I have sealed my ascendancy. This is what a hunter like me has been waiting for their whole life: a chance to conquer one of the most sought after prizes in the autovehicular hunting sport. I know you try to hide in the Walmart parking lot, but I promise I will not give you the chance to run from me, because I am really fast. The red rudolph nose on your pitiful grill gives me a perfect target, you insolent cretin. Check your check engine light, I will be waiting there for you, naked and sweating due to the heat of the engine, clothed in only a greasy pair of my tight whities with a rusty crowbar waiting to introduce itself to your stinking reindeer horns you buffoon car owner.  I am coming, I am waiting, I am angry, and I will hunt you until breath no longer permits me.