| Into a bar comes Santa, looking like he'd just been run over by some vehicle. His arm is in a sling, his nose is broken, his face is cut and bruised and he's walking with a limp. "What happened to you?" asks the bartender." "Banta and me had a fight," says Santa." "That shit, Banta," says the bartender, "He couldn't do that to you, he must have had something in his hand." "That he did," says Santa, "a shovel is what he had." "Well," says the bartender, "you should have defended yourself, didn't you have something in your hand?" "That I did," said Santa. "Mrs. Banta's breast, and a thing of beauty it was, but useless in a fight." |