twelve days fast food
On the first day of Christmas,
My drive through gave to me:
A Big Bacon Classic with cheese.
On the second day of Christmas,
My drive through gave to me:
Two Happy Meals,
and a Big Bacon Classic with cheese.
On the third day of Christmas,
My drive through gave to me:
Three Biggie Fries,
Two Happy Meals,
And a Big Bacon Classic with cheese.
On the fourth day of Christmas,
My drive through gave to me:
Four Egg McMuffins,
Three Biggie Fries,
Two Happy Meals,
And a Big Bacon Classic with cheese.
On the fifth day of Christmas,
My drive through gave to me:
Five onion rings,
Four Egg McMuffins,
Three Biggie Fries,
Two Happy Meals,
And a Big Bacon Classic with cheese.
On the sixth day of Christmas,
My drive through gave to me:
Six chocolate milkshakes,
Five onion rings,
Four Egg McMuffins,
Three Biggie Fries,
Two Happy Meals,
And a Big Bacon Classic with cheese.
On the seventh day of Christmas,
My drive through gave to me:
Seven pints of cole slaw,
Six chocolate milkshakes,
Five onion rings,
Four Egg McMuffins,
Three Biggie Fries,
Two Happy Meals,
And a Big Bacon Classic with cheese.
On the eighth day of Christmas,
My drive through gave to me:
Eight bowls of chili,
Seven pints of cole slaw,
Six chocolate milkshakes,
Five onion rings,
Four Egg McMuffins,
Three Biggie Fries,
Two Happy Meals,
And a Big Bacon Classic with cheese.
On the ninth day of Christmas,
My drive through gave to me:
Nine polish hot dogs,
Eight bowls of chili,
Seven pints of cole slaw,
Six chocolate milkshakes,
Five onion rings,
Four Egg McMuffins,
Three Biggie Fries,
Two Happy Meals,
And a Big Bacon Classic with cheese.
On the tenth day of Christmas,
My drive through gave to me:
Ten baked potatoes,
Nine polish hot dogs,
Eight bowls of chili,
Seven pints of cole slaw,
Six chocolate milkshakes,
Five onion rings,
Four Egg McMuffins,
Three Biggie Fries,
Two Happy Meals,
And a Big Bacon Classic with cheese.
On the eleventh day of Christmas,
My drive through gave to me:
Eleven pounds of blubber,
Ten baked potatoes,
Nine polish hot dogs,
Eight bowls of chili,
Seven pints of cole slaw,
Six chocolate milkshakes,
Five onion rings,
Four Egg McMuffins,
Three Biggie Fries,
Two Happy Meals,
And a Big Bacon Classic with cheese.
On the twelfth day of Christmas,
My drive through gave to me:
Twelve bags of Pepto,
Eleven pounds of blubber,
Ten baked potatoes,
Nine polish hot dogs,
Eight bowls of chili,
Seven pints of cole slaw,
Six chocolate milkshakes,
Five onion rings,
Four Egg McMuffins,
Three Biggie Fries,
Two Happy Meals,
And a Big Bacon Classic with Cheese
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My drive through gave to me:
A Big Bacon Classic with cheese.
On the second day of Christmas,
My drive through gave to me:
Two Happy Meals,
and a Big Bacon Classic with cheese.
On the third day of Christmas,
My drive through gave to me:
Three Biggie Fries,
Two Happy Meals,
And a Big Bacon Classic with cheese.
On the fourth day of Christmas,
My drive through gave to me:
Four Egg McMuffins,
Three Biggie Fries,
Two Happy Meals,
And a Big Bacon Classic with cheese.
On the fifth day of Christmas,
My drive through gave to me:
Five onion rings,
Four Egg McMuffins,
Three Biggie Fries,
Two Happy Meals,
And a Big Bacon Classic with cheese.
On the sixth day of Christmas,
My drive through gave to me:
Six chocolate milkshakes,
Five onion rings,
Four Egg McMuffins,
Three Biggie Fries,
Two Happy Meals,
And a Big Bacon Classic with cheese.
On the seventh day of Christmas,
My drive through gave to me:
Seven pints of cole slaw,
Six chocolate milkshakes,
Five onion rings,
Four Egg McMuffins,
Three Biggie Fries,
Two Happy Meals,
And a Big Bacon Classic with cheese.
On the eighth day of Christmas,
My drive through gave to me:
Eight bowls of chili,
Seven pints of cole slaw,
Six chocolate milkshakes,
Five onion rings,
Four Egg McMuffins,
Three Biggie Fries,
Two Happy Meals,
And a Big Bacon Classic with cheese.
On the ninth day of Christmas,
My drive through gave to me:
Nine polish hot dogs,
Eight bowls of chili,
Seven pints of cole slaw,
Six chocolate milkshakes,
Five onion rings,
Four Egg McMuffins,
Three Biggie Fries,
Two Happy Meals,
And a Big Bacon Classic with cheese.
On the tenth day of Christmas,
My drive through gave to me:
Ten baked potatoes,
Nine polish hot dogs,
Eight bowls of chili,
Seven pints of cole slaw,
Six chocolate milkshakes,
Five onion rings,
Four Egg McMuffins,
Three Biggie Fries,
Two Happy Meals,
And a Big Bacon Classic with cheese.
On the eleventh day of Christmas,
My drive through gave to me:
Eleven pounds of blubber,
Ten baked potatoes,
Nine polish hot dogs,
Eight bowls of chili,
Seven pints of cole slaw,
Six chocolate milkshakes,
Five onion rings,
Four Egg McMuffins,
Three Biggie Fries,
Two Happy Meals,
And a Big Bacon Classic with cheese.
On the twelfth day of Christmas,
My drive through gave to me:
Twelve bags of Pepto,
Eleven pounds of blubber,
Ten baked potatoes,
Nine polish hot dogs,
Eight bowls of chili,
Seven pints of cole slaw,
Six chocolate milkshakes,
Five onion rings,
Four Egg McMuffins,
Three Biggie Fries,
Two Happy Meals,
And a Big Bacon Classic with Cheese
x(mas) files episode
Mulder: We're too late. It's already been here.
Scully: Mulder, I hope you know what you are doing.
Mulder: Look, Scully, just like the other homes: Douglas fir, truncated, mounted, transformed into some sort of shrine; halls decked with boughs of holly; stockings hung by the chimney, with care.
Scully: You really think someone's been here?
Mulder: Someone or some thing.
Scully: Mulder, over here--it's fruitcake.
Mulder: Don't touch it! Those things can be lethal.
Scully: It's O.K. There's a note attached: "Gonna find out who's naughty and nice."
Mulder: It's judging them, Scully. It's making a list.
Scully: Who? What are you talking about?
Mulder: Ancient mythology tells of an obese humanoid entity who could travel at great speed in a craft powered by antlered servants. Once each year, near the winter solstice, this creature is said to descend from the heavens to reward its followers and punish its disbelievers with jagged chunks of anthracite.
Scully: But that's legend, Mulder--a story told by parents to frighten children. Surely, you don't believe it?
Mulder: Something was here tonight, Scully. Check out the bite marks on this gingerbread man. Whatever tore through this plate of cookies was massive -- and in a hurry.
Scully: It left crumbs everywhere. And look, Mulder, this milk glass has been completely drained.
Mulder: It gorged itself, Scully. It fed without remorse.
Scully: But why would they leave it milk and cookies?
Mulder: Appeasement. Tonight is the Eve, and nothing can stop its wilding.
Scully: But if this thing does exist, how did it get in? The doors and windows were locked. There's no sign of forced entry.
Mulder: Unless I miss my guess, it came through the fireplace.
Scully: Wait a minute, Mulder. If you are saying some huge creature landed on the roof and came down the chimney, you're crazy. The flue is barely six inches wide. Nothing could get through there.
Mulder: But what if it could alter its shape, move in all directions.
Scully: You mean, like a bowl full of jelly?
Mulder: Exactly. Scully, I've never told anyone this, but when I was a child my home was visited. I saw the creature. It had long white strips of fur surrounding its ruddy, misshapen head. Its bloated torso was red and white. I'll never forget the horror. I turned away, and when I looked back it had somehow taken on the facial features of my father.
Scully: Impossible.
Mulder: I know what I saw. And that night it read my mind. It brought me a Mr. Potato Head, Scully. IT KNEW I WANTED A MR. POTATO HEAD. Scully: I'm sorry, Mulder, but you're asking me to disregard the laws of physics. You want me to believe in some supernatural being who soars across the skies and brings gifts to good little girls and boys. Listen to what you are saying. Do you understand the repercussions? If this gets out, they'll close the X-files.
Mulder: Scully, listen to me: It knows when you are sleeping. It knows when you're awake.
Scully: But we have no proof.
Mulder: Last year, on this exact date, S.E.T.I. radio telescopes detected bogeys in the airspace over twenty-seven states. The White House ordered a Condition Red.
Scully: But that was a meteor shower.
Mulder: Officially. Two days ago, eight prized Scandinavian reindeer vanished from the National Zoo in Washington, D.C. Nobody - not even the zookeeper - was told about it. The government doesn't want people to know about Project Kringle. They fear that if this thing is proved to exist, then the public would stop spending half its annual income in a holiday shopping frenzy. Retail markets will collapse. Scully, they cannot let the world believe this creature lives. There's too much at stake. They'll do whatever it takes to insure another silent night.
Scully: Mulder, I -- Scully: On the roof. It sounds like . . . a clatter.
Mulder: The truth is up there. Let's see what's the matter...
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Mulder: We're too late. It's already been here.
Scully: Mulder, I hope you know what you are doing.
Mulder: Look, Scully, just like the other homes: Douglas fir, truncated, mounted, transformed into some sort of shrine; halls decked with boughs of holly; stockings hung by the chimney, with care.
Scully: You really think someone's been here?
Mulder: Someone or some thing.
Scully: Mulder, over here--it's fruitcake.
Mulder: Don't touch it! Those things can be lethal.
Scully: It's O.K. There's a note attached: "Gonna find out who's naughty and nice."
Mulder: It's judging them, Scully. It's making a list.
Scully: Who? What are you talking about?
Mulder: Ancient mythology tells of an obese humanoid entity who could travel at great speed in a craft powered by antlered servants. Once each year, near the winter solstice, this creature is said to descend from the heavens to reward its followers and punish its disbelievers with jagged chunks of anthracite.
Scully: But that's legend, Mulder--a story told by parents to frighten children. Surely, you don't believe it?
Mulder: Something was here tonight, Scully. Check out the bite marks on this gingerbread man. Whatever tore through this plate of cookies was massive -- and in a hurry.
Scully: It left crumbs everywhere. And look, Mulder, this milk glass has been completely drained.
Mulder: It gorged itself, Scully. It fed without remorse.
Scully: But why would they leave it milk and cookies?
Mulder: Appeasement. Tonight is the Eve, and nothing can stop its wilding.
Scully: But if this thing does exist, how did it get in? The doors and windows were locked. There's no sign of forced entry.
Mulder: Unless I miss my guess, it came through the fireplace.
Scully: Wait a minute, Mulder. If you are saying some huge creature landed on the roof and came down the chimney, you're crazy. The flue is barely six inches wide. Nothing could get through there.
Mulder: But what if it could alter its shape, move in all directions.
Scully: You mean, like a bowl full of jelly?
Mulder: Exactly. Scully, I've never told anyone this, but when I was a child my home was visited. I saw the creature. It had long white strips of fur surrounding its ruddy, misshapen head. Its bloated torso was red and white. I'll never forget the horror. I turned away, and when I looked back it had somehow taken on the facial features of my father.
Scully: Impossible.
Mulder: I know what I saw. And that night it read my mind. It brought me a Mr. Potato Head, Scully. IT KNEW I WANTED A MR. POTATO HEAD. Scully: I'm sorry, Mulder, but you're asking me to disregard the laws of physics. You want me to believe in some supernatural being who soars across the skies and brings gifts to good little girls and boys. Listen to what you are saying. Do you understand the repercussions? If this gets out, they'll close the X-files.
Mulder: Scully, listen to me: It knows when you are sleeping. It knows when you're awake.
Scully: But we have no proof.
Mulder: Last year, on this exact date, S.E.T.I. radio telescopes detected bogeys in the airspace over twenty-seven states. The White House ordered a Condition Red.
Scully: But that was a meteor shower.
Mulder: Officially. Two days ago, eight prized Scandinavian reindeer vanished from the National Zoo in Washington, D.C. Nobody - not even the zookeeper - was told about it. The government doesn't want people to know about Project Kringle. They fear that if this thing is proved to exist, then the public would stop spending half its annual income in a holiday shopping frenzy. Retail markets will collapse. Scully, they cannot let the world believe this creature lives. There's too much at stake. They'll do whatever it takes to insure another silent night.
Scully: Mulder, I -- Scully: On the roof. It sounds like . . . a clatter.
Mulder: The truth is up there. Let's see what's the matter...
billy gates writes santa
Dear Santa,
How are you doing? I hope you've had a successful year and have come up with a lot of interesting toys. It's really neat how you're able to do that year after year. I guess that's how you stay number one in the Christmas presents business business.
Actually, I admire the way you run Christmas. You really have a handle on it. You find out what people want (with letters like this and having kids tell you in person), and then you make the presents and control how they are delivered. It's an impressive operation.
I also like how you've got it to where when somebody says "Christmas presents," people automatically think Santa Claus. What a marketing advantage. Best of all, even though you're a huge success, people still don't know much about your private life. It's just rumors. That's so neat.
I think being at the North Pole helps. That was a good move. For example, when you're designing toys, only your elves know what you're doing, and you're way up there where nobody can spy on you and steal your ideas. And even if they do, you can always just let it out that you're making the same stuff to bring to people for free, so why would they buy the other guy's stuff?
Also, other people who make Christmas presents can't deliver them like you can. Yours is the only sleigh on the distribution highway. You must get some great discounts from them, because if they don't play ball you can just refuse to give out their presents. Very Sharp.
What I don't get is why you give away stuff. That's the dumbest idea I've ever heard. I admit, its why you're number one- who could compete with a deal like that? But it must make it hard to stay in business, especially when you have to visit every kid in the world. You have to keep growing or fail.
Here's an idea on how you can help finance your operation: Give everybody at least one present at Christmas, then you could make batteries and sell them the rest of the year. It would create a demand: You give people something and then sell them what they need to make it work.
Another thing, about you coming down the chimney. That's so slow and inefficient. And what about all the people who don't have chimneys? Santa. I have one word for you--windows. Everybody has windows.
That's about all I have to say. You're probably wondering if I was good or bad this year, but I don't really like to talk about my personal life, if that's O.K. (Just out of curiosity: When you were a boy, did any of the other kids call you a nerd?) Anyway, I don't really have anything to ask for. Mostly I think up something to play with and then build it myself. I guess I'm sort of like you--I make my own toys.
Best of luck,
Billy Gates
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How are you doing? I hope you've had a successful year and have come up with a lot of interesting toys. It's really neat how you're able to do that year after year. I guess that's how you stay number one in the Christmas presents business business.
Actually, I admire the way you run Christmas. You really have a handle on it. You find out what people want (with letters like this and having kids tell you in person), and then you make the presents and control how they are delivered. It's an impressive operation.
I also like how you've got it to where when somebody says "Christmas presents," people automatically think Santa Claus. What a marketing advantage. Best of all, even though you're a huge success, people still don't know much about your private life. It's just rumors. That's so neat.
I think being at the North Pole helps. That was a good move. For example, when you're designing toys, only your elves know what you're doing, and you're way up there where nobody can spy on you and steal your ideas. And even if they do, you can always just let it out that you're making the same stuff to bring to people for free, so why would they buy the other guy's stuff?
Also, other people who make Christmas presents can't deliver them like you can. Yours is the only sleigh on the distribution highway. You must get some great discounts from them, because if they don't play ball you can just refuse to give out their presents. Very Sharp.
What I don't get is why you give away stuff. That's the dumbest idea I've ever heard. I admit, its why you're number one- who could compete with a deal like that? But it must make it hard to stay in business, especially when you have to visit every kid in the world. You have to keep growing or fail.
Here's an idea on how you can help finance your operation: Give everybody at least one present at Christmas, then you could make batteries and sell them the rest of the year. It would create a demand: You give people something and then sell them what they need to make it work.
Another thing, about you coming down the chimney. That's so slow and inefficient. And what about all the people who don't have chimneys? Santa. I have one word for you--windows. Everybody has windows.
That's about all I have to say. You're probably wondering if I was good or bad this year, but I don't really like to talk about my personal life, if that's O.K. (Just out of curiosity: When you were a boy, did any of the other kids call you a nerd?) Anyway, I don't really have anything to ask for. Mostly I think up something to play with and then build it myself. I guess I'm sort of like you--I make my own toys.
Best of luck,
Billy Gates
rating christmas parties
If you threw a party, the worst thing you could have done was throw the kind of party where your guests, the next day, call you up to say they had a nice time. Now you'll be expected to throw another great party next year.
What you should have done was throw the kind of party where your guests wake up several days from now and call their lawyers to find out if they've been indicted for anything. You want your guests to be so anxious to avoid a recurrence of your party that they immediately start planning parties of their own, a year in advance, just to prevent you from having another one.
So next time, make sure your party reaches the correct Festivity Level:
Festivity Level One:
Your guests are chatting amiably with each other, admiring your Christmas-tree ornaments, singing carols around the upright piano, sipping at their drinks and nibbling at hors d'oeuvres.
Festivity Level Two:
Your guests are talking loudly--sometimes to each other and sometimes to nobody at all, rearranging your Christmas-tree ornaments, singing "I Gotta Be Me" around the upright piano, gulping their drinks and wolfing down hors d'oeuvres.
Festivity Level Three:
Your guests are arguing violently with inanimate objects, singing "I Can't Get No Satisfaction," gulping other people's drinks, wolfing down Christmas-tree ornaments, and placing hors d'oeuvres in the upright piano to see what happens when the little hammers strike them.
(You want to keep your party somewhere around Level Three, unless you rent your home and own firearms, in which case you can go to Level Four.)
Festivity Level Four:
Your guests have hors d'oeuvres smeared all over their bodies, are performing a ritual dance around the burning Christmas tree, and have consumed all ten gallons of alcohol at the party. The piano is missing.
The best way to get to Level Four is eggnog. To make eggnog, you'll need rum, whiskey, wine, gin and, if they are in season, eggs. Combine all ingredients in a large, festive bowl. If you use enough alcohol you won't have to worry about them getting salmonella poisoning--their alcohol toxicity level will eliminate that possibility. Then induce your guests to drink this potent mixture.
If your party is successful, the police will knock on your door. If your party is very successful, the police will then lob tear gas through your living-room window. As host, your job is to make sure they don't arrest anybody. Or, if they're dead set on arresting someone, your job is to make sure it isn't you. The best way to do this is to show a lot of respect for their uniforms and assure them you're not doing anything illegal. Here's how to handle it:
Police: "Good evening. Are you the host?"
You: "No."
Police: "We've been getting complaints about this party."
You: "About the drugs?"
Police: "No."
You: "About the guns, then? Is somebody complaining about the guns?"
Police: "No, the noise."
You: "Oh, the noise. Well, that makes sense, because there are no guns or drugs here. (An enormous explosion is heard in the background.) Or fireworks. Who's complaining about the noise? The neighbors?"
Police: "No, the neighbors fled inland hours ago. Most of the recent complaints have come from several miles away. Do you think you could ask the host to quiet things down?"
You: "No problem. (At this point, a Volkswagen bug with primitive religious symbols drawn on the doors emerges from the living room and roars down the hall, past the police and out the front door onto the lawn, where it smashes into a tree. Eight guests tumble out onto the grass, moaning.) See? Things are starting to wind down."
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What you should have done was throw the kind of party where your guests wake up several days from now and call their lawyers to find out if they've been indicted for anything. You want your guests to be so anxious to avoid a recurrence of your party that they immediately start planning parties of their own, a year in advance, just to prevent you from having another one.
So next time, make sure your party reaches the correct Festivity Level:
Festivity Level One:
Your guests are chatting amiably with each other, admiring your Christmas-tree ornaments, singing carols around the upright piano, sipping at their drinks and nibbling at hors d'oeuvres.
Festivity Level Two:
Your guests are talking loudly--sometimes to each other and sometimes to nobody at all, rearranging your Christmas-tree ornaments, singing "I Gotta Be Me" around the upright piano, gulping their drinks and wolfing down hors d'oeuvres.
Festivity Level Three:
Your guests are arguing violently with inanimate objects, singing "I Can't Get No Satisfaction," gulping other people's drinks, wolfing down Christmas-tree ornaments, and placing hors d'oeuvres in the upright piano to see what happens when the little hammers strike them.
(You want to keep your party somewhere around Level Three, unless you rent your home and own firearms, in which case you can go to Level Four.)
Festivity Level Four:
Your guests have hors d'oeuvres smeared all over their bodies, are performing a ritual dance around the burning Christmas tree, and have consumed all ten gallons of alcohol at the party. The piano is missing.
The best way to get to Level Four is eggnog. To make eggnog, you'll need rum, whiskey, wine, gin and, if they are in season, eggs. Combine all ingredients in a large, festive bowl. If you use enough alcohol you won't have to worry about them getting salmonella poisoning--their alcohol toxicity level will eliminate that possibility. Then induce your guests to drink this potent mixture.
If your party is successful, the police will knock on your door. If your party is very successful, the police will then lob tear gas through your living-room window. As host, your job is to make sure they don't arrest anybody. Or, if they're dead set on arresting someone, your job is to make sure it isn't you. The best way to do this is to show a lot of respect for their uniforms and assure them you're not doing anything illegal. Here's how to handle it:
Police: "Good evening. Are you the host?"
You: "No."
Police: "We've been getting complaints about this party."
You: "About the drugs?"
Police: "No."
You: "About the guns, then? Is somebody complaining about the guns?"
Police: "No, the noise."
You: "Oh, the noise. Well, that makes sense, because there are no guns or drugs here. (An enormous explosion is heard in the background.) Or fireworks. Who's complaining about the noise? The neighbors?"
Police: "No, the neighbors fled inland hours ago. Most of the recent complaints have come from several miles away. Do you think you could ask the host to quiet things down?"
You: "No problem. (At this point, a Volkswagen bug with primitive religious symbols drawn on the doors emerges from the living room and roars down the hall, past the police and out the front door onto the lawn, where it smashes into a tree. Eight guests tumble out onto the grass, moaning.) See? Things are starting to wind down."
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