Today we continue our series chronicling the downfall of one of Earth’s most beloved holiday icons, Santa Claus. Our guest today is a self-proclaimed, “Herbal Entrepreneur” who was arrested that fateful night in January alongside Santa Claus. Today we sit down with Santa’s alleged dealer, LeMonjello Otis.
H.E.: Hello again. Today I’m digging further into the seedy, rumor-filled world of the ongoing drama surrounding Santa Claus. With me today is Mr. LeMonjello Otis, who is rumored to be a connection to this ongoing case. Mr. Otis, can you describe your relationship with Mr. Claus?
L.O.: Whoa, now wait jist a New York minute, there, fine lady. The Lemon-man don’t have no, relationships, with no brothers. I don’t know who you been talkin’ to, but (slaps fist into palm), but they might wanta think twice about dissin’ L. O. Me and S.C. go way back to college days; you might say that ol’ Red-n-White likes his recreational treats, but that’s all I know.
H.E.: So then the other rumors about you making massive campaign contributions to a certain recently-reelected government official would also be false?
L.O.: Total bullshit, sister. Though I would like to make some massive contributions to Michelle; seen the wiggle on that? Some fine junk in that trunk! Speaking a fine, most folks need to call me L. O., but a fine sister like you can call me Lemon.
H.E.: I am definitely not your sister. You have been seen frequenting the D.A.’s office on many occasions. What has he offered you in return for whatever knowledge you… uh, don’t have… on Mr. Claus?
L.O.: (Lights a cigarette, frowns, looks at the floor) I’m not supposed to say no shit about that. Let’s just say the Lemon-man likes to spend time with the ladies, not at no barbed-wire and concrete men’s club.
H.E.: The N.P.P.D. Chief claims you are a menace and a known drug dealer. Your comment?
L.O.: The Chief might do good to not let his own daughter record certain “fashion-shows” that the chief likes to put on on Saturday nights. Speakin’ of fashion shows, the Lemon-man likes to dress like a stud, but for as fine a form as you got, sister–let’s just say, you want me to wear a tutu, long as nobody’s filmin’ it, I’m there for ya, long as you let me cook breakfast for you in the morning, know what I’m sayin’?
H.E.: No, thank you. Can you prove those counter-accusations?
L.O.: In two years, when the chief’s daughter turns 18, they’s gonna be lots a provin’ goin’ on. The Lemon may not be Billy Graham, but the sisters gots to be legal.
H.E.: Have you had dealings with a certain Brown Shugga?
L.O.: (Blows smoke out his nose, coughs, and whistles) Whooo-eee, dealin’s?? Let’s us just say, the Lemon-man has a sniffle, he visits Shugga, an’ the sinuses are clear as a Nebraska sunrise, know what I’m sayin’. (Smiles stupidly for 45 seconds) You is fine, sister, whatsay you ‘n’ Shugga have a “nice-ass” contest over at my crib this weekend? The Lemon bring in a truckload a Viagra for you two.
H.E.: I see, and no, I do not want any of that. So would you characterize yourself as her pimp?
L.O.: The Lemon is a investor, nothin’ more, nothin’ less. Brown Shugga, she be my chief investment. Brother got to bring in some lawyer-money, know what I’m sayin’?
H.E.: Uhhh… yes, I suppose I must admit one must keep one’s pimp hand strong. Does the name Lipshitz the Elf mean anything to you?
L.O.: Le’s just say, none a the sisters wants ta get in the little man’s van. Somethin’ odd about the brotha. Hell, something odd about a van. (Shivers, pulls on his whisky)