Click Here to Start Increasing Your Metabolism and Losing Weight


A Christmas Story or I Knew Roy Clomp

Seeing that it's the time of year, I think Christmas stories are in order. It just happened that I couldn't sleep well. I woke up early this morning so I had better bones, got out of bed and hit the computer to tell you the story, was it a story? All right, no, but it has prevented me from sleeping a fair person.

In all the countries of the new world as they call Australia, America and parts of Africa, there are many kinds of special characters. This special lineage is not, as the native may have told you, not so special and the land they are occupying is not new at all. They lived there for eon.

If we investigate further from time to time say a few million years give or take one or two times we may be able to find the cause & # 39; the original occupants' not all original at all. They just thought and then killed neanderthals or whatever kind of pre-human beings existed in the region, at that time.

Evolution can be cruel and certainly no sentiment for the original occupants'. The same evolutionary traits that led to its original inhabitants, originally created modern men. She has less body hair but keeps some hair, as a token to the wild on the chin. The modern man also developed the symbol of his modernity, the belly of the pot.

What on earth has to do with Christmas, you may ask, not much, I might answer, but it brings us to the eternal image, most of us living in a new and old world know what Santa looks like and why. for this is that he has a full beard and a pot belly. She was actually quite fat but she was stupid of us not paying attention to her wearing a glittering red dress, and to be honest with you, a red cowboy-style red hat with a pom pom and of course we couldn't see how fat her beard was that.

The same image as our ancestors in North America, but especially in South Africa and especially in Australia is the same full beard. Look at any picture of early Australian settlers, not just Bushrangers like Ned Kelly or Eureka Stockade heroes but pretty much anywhere in early Australia was a shaved spot.

One has never seen a romance with a full compliment of facial hair hanging down and sway under the chin and catching powder and drops. That's not to say that Santa Claus is an Australian or a South African transvaal for that matter, he's certainly European.

He was too busy feeding deer and hitting toys and keeping elves in line for shaving. Not to mention Mrs. Claus hated her beard but kept it as a symbol of her independence. He was not interested in the pot's stomach but reminded him that he was a little pudding.

Santa isn't the only one who feels this way about his beard lock. Bushmen in the new world felt this way too, no romance shaved for them.

Likewise, I know a man who has previously applied, to say he is Australian, keeps some of his stupidity, has a pot belly and wears a full beard to the first level of buttoned up on his third shirt from above.

Let's call him Roy, and a very nice guy. She comes from a loving family and Christmas is a big deal in the Clomp family. Roy started his studies in high school because he thought it was cool to have what at the time chin blurred. Why in the skies, Roy thinks this is interesting only for teenagers, but it must have some effect as they are often seen in teenage girls.

Over the years Roy left school and went to work for the local council and there he spent most of his life working diligently and honestly while his fuzz grew and flourished.

Roy also liked other things, one of which was the same teenage girl as his bride, this was after high school of course and the fuzz is now lighthearted with a touch of van dyke about it.

As a quiet, tried-and-true Aussie man, Roy went to his local pub after working almost daily and building lifelong friendships with other friends who enjoyed the oddly clever cleaning, they laughed a lot, loved it and were very happy all round.

They all create a love for the interior of Australia because they often go wild when they are not really in the pub. This has a side effect for them and for Roy especially because they love drinks while in the bush and naturally in pubs. The results gathered from & # 39; some cleaning ales' is that he expands the pot belly.

So Roy grew up to be a sick man, with a beard full of beards, and certainly looked like a Mr. Clause, Roy was still a relatively young man when the local version of The Order of the Old Bastards asked him to compete with his strange old Tom McGuiness never touched fat but very fat on its own. Tom has been a Father of Christmas for many years and is happy to give gifts to small tackers at & # 39; Old Bastards bash. Tom was so sick and so weak that he "couldn't blow the scent out of fans" when the violations went, you must be sure, Roy. The only thing he had to do was restore the face fungus to a white silver and Bob's face. It's Uncle .... hey presto ..... Santa.

Roy was twenty-eight years old at the time for the next forty-eight years. Poor Tom McGuiness never blew any of the other Fosters or anything since he died before Easter the following year and Roy was just sort of taking over.

For forty-eight years, Roy wore a red sweater, a red lace-up hat, with a pom pom of course, practicing his craft, though he did not need it.

She made her dreams and some of the children's wishes come true and, better yet, she made them feel the magic of Christmas. He is, in fact, a Santa. Oh, he doesn't actually live in the North Pole, he doesn't even know a fairy, and deer are something for postcards or Laplanders in Norhtern Europe. But she has Madam Clause .... blame Madam clomp and she is a shade some might say a little pudding own self.

Roy Clomp and his bride are loved and respected by generations of their children and parents whether they hold court in a local pub this year or storm within ten days before Christmas in the hall, local parks and the inevitable old giants at behind ' Old Bastards That's right. The President hit the Chev a long time ago.

They don't go to church much except for weddings or odd baptisms, they prefer to go fishing or camping in the bush on weekends, they do not belong to any service club except the 'old bastards'. They went to the pictures on Tuesday so pay TV came. Their children are growing, growing.

Roy also passed away in August 2009, just enough time to find another Santa.

Ah! that guy is dedicated.


No comments