Ain’t It A Xmas Merricle

Local Media Producer and Companion Arrested for Disruptive Santa Photo Operation

Image courtesy of “Screw Crimes Magazine”

Blacksburg, VA – In a bizarre turn of events during the festive season, Cornelius Edward Snider, a well-known media producer in Christiansburg, and his companion Tony "Uncle T" Thornton, were arrested yesterday evening on Patrick Henry Drive. The pair were reportedly offering impromptu Santa photos to passersby, which resulted in a public disturbance.

According to eyewitness accounts and police reports, Snider was equipped with a Canon camera perched on an Amazon Basics tripod, inviting locals to capture a holiday memory for a fee. Thornton, dressed in a disheveled Santa suit, appeared to be assisting Snider but was notably intoxicated.

As the night progressed, the duo's behavior became increasingly disruptive. Thornton, who witnesses referred to as "Uncle T," began to loudly argue with Snider, causing concern among the public. The scene escalated when Thornton attempted to physically confront responding officers, leading to his immediate detainment.

Snider, on the other hand, responded to the unfolding chaos by becoming visibly upset, dissolving into tears, and causing further commotion. The spectacle drew a crowd, and that's when WBBL news station journalist, who happened to be in the area, arrived on the scene.

"It was supposed to be a festive activity, but it took a wrong turn very quickly," said the journalist. "The situation was both confusing and concerning for those who witnessed it. It’s sad to see a well-intended effort to spread holiday cheer devolve into this."

The Blacksburg Police Department confirmed that both Snider and Thornton have been charged with public intoxication, disorderly conduct, and resisting arrest. The police emphasized that while they support community engagement and festive activities, they must be conducted lawfully and with respect for public order.

The incident has caused quite a stir on social media, with the local community expressing a mix of concern and disbelief. Snider, known for his work with Everscope Multimedia and contributions to local media, has not yet made a public statement. Thornton is also keeping a low profile following the incident.

The unexpected event serves as a reminder of the fine line between public entertainment and disturbance, especially during a season when high spirits can sometimes lead to high jinks that cross over into illegality.

WBBL news will continue to provide updates as more information becomes available. The court date for Snider and Thornton is set for early January, where they will face the consequences of last night's events.

Once Upon A Time…

On an unseasonably warm December evening in Blacksburg, Virginia, with the holiday season in full swing, Patrick Henry Drive’s Kroger parking lot buzzed with the energy of last-minute shoppers and families out to enjoy the neighborhood’s festive decorations. Nestled between the street’s lamp posts adorned with wreaths and lights, Cornelius Edward Snider, known to his friends as an elfish Cor, was meticulously adjusting his Canon camera atop a modest Amazon Basics tripod. His breath fogged in the air with anxiety as he focused on the monitor, ensuring the perfect frame for what he hoped would be a lucrative under the table pop-up Santa photo booth. “This,” he had assured his Uncle and accomplice, “will be an Xmas that everyone will remember.”

In front of him, Tony "Uncle T" Thornton swayed slightly, the smell of mothballs and mildew clinging to the worn fabric of his thrift-store Santa suit. “Got this beauty at the new consignment,” Tony slurred, his words slightly slurred from the cocktail of uppers and downers he had consumed earlier. “20 bucks. Santa T’s gonna make us a pretty penny tonight, eh Cor?!” he yelled, as if Cor’s camera wasn’t just six feet away.

Cor, who had only started drinking after the drive to “deal with” Tony's escalating volume and boisterous antics, shot him a contemptuous look. They had already stopped twice before getting here, then Tony spent ten minutes in the Kroger, and now have had to reset once since the Sun moved. “Just try to keep it down, T,” he muttered. “We don’t want to scare them off before they even take a photo.” In the process of setting up, they had already detracted two interested clients. Cor’s remark then seemed to stimy Tony into a forced grin for a dozen more successful clients.

Two hours passed, and with each click of the camera, each of their own patience thinned. Tony’s behavior grew increasingly erratic, as he became socially anxious by the chaos of the families. Once, he loudly laughed in a baby’s ear, frightening them. After this he began shifting restlessly in the armchair they brought, loudly yawning, shouting, or laughing at every opportunity. His voice boomed across the street, “Hear Ye! Hear Ye!... Hear Ye! Hear Ye!”

“It’s ‘Ho! Ho! Ho!’ man, not ‘Hear Ye! Hear Ye!’” Cor snapped, the smell of alcohol heavy on his breath. Tony’s face twisted in offense as he shouted back, obscenities slipping from his lips, startling a group of nearby families.

“I don’t give a fuck, Cory! My version of Santa says ‘Hear Ye! Hear Ye!’ Its’ my own creative impression! There ain’t no real Santa no more, anyway. The real Santa died hundreds of years ago or something. Look it up! Wikipedia!”

Children clung to their parents, their eyes wide with shock.

That's when the blaring sound of police sirens sliced through the air, and the sight of blue lights reflected in the camera lens. “Must be some snitch,” Tony growled, his speech slurred.

As the officers approached, Cor’s temper flared. “We’re not doing anything wrong!” he yelled, his voice breaking as tears began to streak down his face. The officers, mistaking his emotional outburst for intoxication, moved to detain him.

Tony, meanwhile, let out a loud burp, the acrid smell of stomach acid filling the air before he vomited on one of the officers' shoes as they attempted to cuff him. Her fellow officers, taking it as an assault, tackled Tony to the ground. The sound of the scuffle drew a larger crowd, and among them, a little girl dressed as Cindy Lou Who asked no one in particular, “Why are the police officers beating up the sick Santa Claus?”

A grinchy Cor, now handcuffed and being led to the back of a police car, barked through his tears and replied with a voice heavy with vitriol, “Because All Cops Are Bad, baby girl.”

The little girl watched, confusion and sadness marking her young face as the police car doors slammed shut, taking away Santa and his helper, leaving behind a crowd whispering about the madness that had unfolded. And just like that, the holiday cheer on Patrick Henry Drive was replaced with a sobering silence, punctuated only by the fading sound of the sirens.

Inside the cramped confines of the police car, Cor slumped against the cold metal divider, the earlier flush of anger now replaced by a hollow resignation. Tony, on the other side, was a disheveled heap, his Santa suit stained with bile and his beard askew. The air was thick with the smell of alcohol, anxious sweat, and the bitter tang of Tony’s sickness.

The police car’s engine hummed a steady rhythm as they wove through the streets of Blacksburg, the festive lights blurring past like distant stars. Tony, observing these, his head, staring out the window, lolling with the motion of the car, muttered incoherently, a mix of apologies and curses. “’ll never do nothin’ like this again, baby Jesus, I swear. I’ll clean my life up now.”

Cor rolled his eyes and watched the passing holiday displays on his side, his vision blurry with unshed tears. The laughter and warmth of families enjoying the season felt like a world away now. His mind replayed the evening's events—a hustling cascade of bad decisions that now felt surreal in the silent aftermath.

“I was just tryin’ to have a good time!” Tony's loud, crackling voice broke the silence, raspy and filled with regret. “Just wanted to spread some cheer, y'know?!”

Cor sighed, rubbing his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Yeah, and look where that got us, T,” he replied, the edge in his voice softened by fatigue.

The radio crackled to life intermittently, a stark reminder of their current reality. They were no longer just two guys trying to make a quick buck on a holiday gimmick; they were now subjects of the law, their evening’s plan gone awry.

After a snorting chuckle from one of the officers, a quiet settled between them again, filled only by the sound of the car's tires on the road. Cor's thoughts drifted to the families they had upset, to the little girl's confused face, to the potential consequences of their actions. He wondered if the holiday spirit they sought to capture was ever really there or if it had been lost, drowned out by their poor judgment and Tony's intoxication.

The police car eventually pulled into the station, the sudden stop jolting them from their thoughts. The doors opened, and they were ushered out into the stark fluorescence of the precinct. Cor took a deep breath, the reality of their situation sinking in. He couldn’t help but break down again as the officer shot his mugshot. They had set out to bring joy, albeit in a misguided fashion, and now they were just two more holiday mishaps in a small Virginia town.

As they walked through the corridors, Cor realized that this would certainly be a Xmas to remember, but for all the wrong reasons. And as they disappeared into the station, the sounds of holiday merriment from the street felt like a distant memory.

The large cell was a drab, eggshell box, a far cry from the jolly atmosphere of the park where their evening had begun. Tony, now stripped of his soiled Santa suit, grumbled as he made his way to the corner where the lone toilet stood, exposed to the judgmental eyes of the cell's other occupants.

“Come on, Tony!” Cor whined as he got as far away as he could and put his head in his hands.

"Man's gotta do what a man's gotta do," Tony declared with a shrug, despite the collective groans from his audience.

Saucy, a lanky figure with innocent eyes that told tales of long nights of bad decisions, recognizing his longtime roommate, and used to Big T’s antics, couldn’t help but chuckle warmly. “Ain't no privacy in the big house, brother. But hey, ain't this a Xmas Merricle?”

Saucy, a.k.a. "The Sauce Man," found himself in the slammer for a misadventure that could only happen to someone with his unique combination of bad luck and questionable life choices. The self-proclaimed "king of barter" had been at the local flea market earlier that day, trying to trade what he insisted was a "vintage" (read: suspiciously new-looking) gaming console for a collection of rare comic books. When the trade went south, Saucy's temper flared, leading to a scuffle that knocked over several stands, causing a domino effect of chaos. In the end, he was arrested not just for the disturbance but also because the gaming console turned out to be stolen property. Now, in the cell, Saucy spun the tale as a grand misunderstanding, all the while wondering if his "Xmas Merricle" would be a lawyer savvy enough to get him out of this pickle.

He threw his arms wide, gesturing to the walls around them. "Here we are, still roomies!"

“That’s right,” Tony continued. “An Xmas Merricle, so it’s doubly sinful to pass judgement on a man. So if anyone else says anything about what’s happening, you’re going to H-E-Double-Hockey-Pucks, ya fucks.”

The woman, a petite figure with tired eyes, sat on the adjacent bench, clutching a small plastic bag of personal items. She was caught trying to lift presents for her kids, her desperation driving her to take risks she never would have considered before. Now, she watched Tony with a mix of disdain and pity. "H-E-Double-Hockey-Pucks, huh?" she murmured dryly. "All things considered, we're already there."

The third figure, a man whose beard and outfit were even more ragged than Tony's original costume, sat silently in the corner. His presence was like a shadow, unnoticed until he stood up, and with a shimmer that seemed to defy the dullness of the cell, transformed into a pristine, red-suited Santa Claus, complete with a twinkle in his eye.

With a benevolent chuckle, he walked through the bars like a ghost, transforming into a clean Santa Claus as he did so, and spoke to the guard. His voice was silent under a current of jingling bells. Cor looked around with a raised eyebrow. Moments later, he returned with a key, unlocking the cell door. "Ho, ho, ho! It seems you've both been granted a bit of Xmas grace," he said, his voice deep and warm.

Tony's mouth hung open in disbelief, and even Cor couldn't hide his shock. "You're bailing us out?" Cor asked, suspicion lacing his tone.

Santa nodded, his eyes crinkling with a smile. "Yes, Cornelius, and Anthony. But remember, the greatest gift you can give is kindness and understanding. Anthony, shape up. And you, Cornelius, stop being so judgmental. Let the man say 'Hear Ye' if it brings him joy."

As they were led out of the cell, Tony beamed at Cor. "Hear that? I can say whatever I want!" He spread his arms wide for a hug, but Cor, still processing the night's surreal turn, pushed him away, sending him sprawling into the snow outside, as the three of them were suddenly outside.

“But Santa, you know my name’s not Anthony. God must’ve told you that at some point. My name’s just Tony,” he explained simply, lounging in the snow. “And what about Saucy?”

Santa's laughter boomed around them as he lobbed a perfectly formed snowball at Cor, hitting him square in the face. "Lighten up, you two! Merry Xmas!" he bellowed before vanishing in a swirl of snowflakes.

Cor sputtered, wiping snow from his cheeks, as Tony picked himself up, chuckling. "Best Xmas ever, right, Cor?"

But Cor just shook his head, still incredulous. "I must be dreaming," he muttered.

"Or maybe," Tony added with a wide grin, "it's just a bit of Xmas magic."

And as they stood there, in the park they'd started in, with lumps of coal in their pockets and their spirits somehow lifted despite it all, they couldn't help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, they'd truly encountered the father spirit of Xmas after all.

“What the hell is this?” Cor exclaimed, pulling the rocks from his pocket.

Tony's irrepressible nature found him holding one of the lumps of coal to his lips, his lighter casting an ominous glow on his face. With a defiant look at Cor, he took a deep drag, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"Man, you gotta stop overthinking everything," Tony coughed out, smoke curling around his words. "Remember what the big guy said? Judgement ain't your job, dude."

Cor, his judgmental instincts battling Santa's advice, watched as Tony's eyes glazed over with a wild delight. "I'm telling you, Cory, this is some next-level cheer," Tony insisted, pushing the black lump towards Cor.

Against his better judgment, curiosity overpowered Cor's skepticism. He took a drag, and the world around him began to twist into a red and green kaleidoscope of colors and sounds- the effects beinglike the most powerful poppers in the universe. He was rolling in the snow now, laughter bubbling from his lips uncontrollably. But as quickly as the euphoria came, it twisted into paranoia when Santa reappeared, now looming over him, his laughter turning dark, his face contorting menacingly.

"Santa, what the heck are you doing back here?" Cor's voice was edged with fear as he staggered to his knees, the world tilting dangerously.  The towering tyrant of toys began shaking his head disappointedly as if aware of some greater sin in Cor’s ledger. Cor had failed some naughty/nice test terribly. The laughter grew louder, more sinister, and Santa's shook harder and faster and his face began to blur with a terrifying speed. Cor's heart raced, panic clawing its way from his gut, through his chest, and up his throat. This trip had taken a legendarily twisted turn for the worst.

And then, suddenly, the world snapped back into focus. The red and green world dissolved back into unsaturated reality. Santa’s head slowed, turning into the more familiar face of Cor’s cousin, AC, shaking his head with a mix of concern and bewilderment.

"Dude, you okay?" AC's voice cut through the haze. " What the hell are you two on? I got you guys out and brought you back here, leave for five minutes, and here Tony is rolling around in the dirty snow and you’re… praying? Look, your gear's still here. That's the Xmas miracle, not whatever trip you're on."

Tony, oblivious to the change, rolled into an oily puddle, his laughter unaffected by the shift in reality.

“We’ve been smoking the coal that Santa gave us…”

AC knelt down, picking up the discarded lumps of coal. "These aren't coal, man. These are...I don't even know, but definitely not something you want to smoke. Who knows what you've been inhaling."

Tony paused, looking at the blackened lump in his hand, before shrugging and tossing it aside. "Well, it's been a blast either way," he chuckled, still too far gone to care.

Cor then noticed the flask on the ground near them.

His eyes widened in realization.  “The drink," he murmured, the memories starting to piece together. "Tony, what did you put in that drink?"

“Idunno. Somethin’ Saucy gave me,” Tony replied disinterested.

Cor shook his head, the last of the trip's effects wearing off. He looked at AC, gratitude and a tinge of embarrassment in his eyes. "Thanks, AC. I owe you one," he said, his voice shaky.

AC just smiled, patting Cor on the back. "More like a thousand, cuz. Let's just get your stuff and head home. You can figure out your life's lessons when you're not high on mystery dust bunnies."

“Ain’t It,” Tony quipped.

And with that, the three of them gathered the scattered equipment and the cash that miraculously remained untouched, leaving the park with a story that would be told for many Xmases to come—about the night they met Santa, or at least thought they did.

Episode 1

Welcome to Ain’t It! | Episode 1: Meet Uncle T

What’s up, everybody? It’s your man, Uncle T, and I’m kicking off this wild ride we call Ain’t It! This show is my love letter to pop culture, true crime, and all the weird, wonderful stories that shaped me—and maybe you too.

In this debut episode, we’re diving headfirst into my origin story: growing up in Southeast Roanoke, Virginia, surrounded by poverty, thrash metal, and the sweet, sweet glow of a Super Nintendo screen. Pop culture wasn’t just entertainment for me—it was survival, the only thing louder than the chaos of life. From Mario to metal, 80s horror to 90s arcade glory, it all left its mark.

But Ain’t It ain’t just about nostalgia—it’s about the messy, beautiful stuff that makes us human. We’ll laugh at the absurd, cry about the tragic, and maybe uncover a few truths about how we got here. And yes, there’s true crime, because what’s a good story without a little danger? 🎶

Intro/Outro Music: CLERIC from Adobe Stock

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