Santa's gift: a hoochie

"I'd get all the reindeer a Nintendo DS because I'm sure that when Santa is in someone's home dropping off presents, all they do is pick on poor Rudolph. It's probably like Mean Girls but with hooves. I'm sure they make Rudolph eat yellow snow and stuff like that because they're jealous of his nose."

"Personally, I'd give Santa a macaroon," says Holly's friend Kara, a greasy-looking girl with a couple of pimples on her chest. "Because Santa loves the Jews too... I mean, Christmas is more like an American holiday than a religious one now anyway. It's basically a celebration of capitalism."

Catching up with my Christmas crew on the sardine-packed patio of the Clevelander, I spot a group of shirtless muscle heads inked in Chinese symbols and sporting long, Polynesian-print board shorts. Assuming they'll have a brilliant gift idea — like helping Santa create a benefits package with full medical, dental, and a 401(k) — I ask the loudest (and tannest) of the group, John, what he'd like to give back to his bearded childhood hero.

Wardell Brown

"Crack!" he yells and then jumps into the Clevelander's infamous pool. He swims toward a chubby girl, who slips and tries to dampen the effect by humping the pool's edge; she's giving aquatic lap dances to anyone who paddles her way.

Finally, I ask John's friend Scott what he'd give the sainted Nick.

"Easy pussy!" he says as Erika struts by in her skimpy outfit. "Or that!"

"Eh," I say as his eyes burn off her clothes. "Same difference."

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