CONTENTS

IN THE BEGINNING

HE SEES YOU...

DOWN THE TOILET

PUDGY PETE’S

NO PEEKING

CAGED RAGE

BOOBY - TRAPPED

SPIES

CHRISTMAS LEPRECHAUNS

BOOGER - CANES

ALL SYSTEMS GO

THE GREAT WHITE NORTH

SHUNNED

SO CLOSE, AND YET...

Life of a Loser - Catching Santa

by Lou Zuhr

"Beware the all-knowing eye of...

SANTA CLAUS."

- Lou

www.lifeofaloser.com

copyright 2014 by Lou Zuhr

IN THE BEGINNING

Hello there reader. You're probably wondering about the title of the book you're holding. What does Lou mean - Catching Santa?

Listen, you gotta' keep up with me, or this just isn't going to work. Catching Santa means - you catch him. While he's delivering your Christmas gifts. And you don't let him get away.

Now you're probably wondering, Why would Lou want to Catch Santa?

You know how people are always claiming they've been abducted by aliens, but their only proof is a piece of aluminum foil? Or, that they've encountered Bigfoot, but all they have are grainy photos of a guy in a gorilla suit?

I intend to prove - once and for all - that Santa exists.

Actually - I could care less about all of that. The truth is that all I have ever received for Christmas is heartache. And I think Santa owes me an explanation.

So, I invite you to come on this journey with me. I am going to show you how I intend to

CATCH SANTA CLAUS...

My Christmas Story (it's more of a Christmas Predicament) begins eight years ago, when I was a tender lad of only five.

The year had not gone well for me - I was in and out of trouble all year long - and I had decided that if I was going to constantly be standing in the corner with my nose against the wall, I intended to have fun getting there. I was tired of getting in trouble for dumb stuff, like flinging my dirty underwear at my sister, or sling-shotting my cooked broccoli at the neighbor's house.

One balmy Saturday morning, I wanted to try out the finger painting skills I had recently been learning at school. (Life and school were so simple at that age - my days consisted of eating graham crackers, finger painting, and taking an afternoon nap.)

As I couldn't afford real finger paints, I had stirred up a dark, gooey batch of mud in my dad's toolbox. But, I couldn't find a good place to actually create my masterpiece.

And then I noticed it, my neighbor's brand new Mercedes Benz. It's immaculate, sparkling surface would make the perfect canvas. So I grabbed my mud, and set out to create my own Mona Lisa.

Apparently, my neighbor was not as much a fan of art as he pretended to be (typical yuppie). Prior to that moment, I had never seen someone hold their breath so long, or turn so many different shades of red and purple.

After he was done jumping up and down like a crazed gorilla, he pointed his boney little finger at me and demanded that I clean all the mud off of his car.

So I did.

My dear mother, bless her soul, heard the resulting commotion and called 911, thinking that someone had been seriously injured.

It's probably a good thing that the paramedics arrived when they did. They saved my neighbor, who was sobbing uncontrollably, from suffering a complete nervous breakdown. This guy was really attached to his car. I wanted to tell him he needed to relax a little, perhaps find a hobby. Or try some yoga.

My mother apologized profusely to our neighbor, and promised to repair the damages. Then she grabbed me by the back of my neck and marched me into the house. I still couldn't figure out what the big deal was, I had only been trying to express my artistic urges. But the neck grab had been a sure sign that I was in deep, deep trouble. Deeper than usual, it turned out.

In between the I can't believe and the wait until I tell your father, my mother scolded me for removing the paint from our neighbor's car. I countered by explaining that