(not a tale for the impressionable)
Santa Claus kidnapped me and didn't allow me to play in any reindeer games or do any social networking. I always knew he was a deviant. I mean really, all those little kids sitting on his lap year after year. Where do you think he found that Ho Ho Ho kind of mood?
So the "man in red" abducted me and deprived me of my daily routine and destroyed my personal boundaries. I forgot who I am. Santa forced me to disbelieve in myself. Diabolical!
This all began at the local Sears department store. I was maybe six years old. It was the day after Thanksgiving and Santa Claus arrived, as advertised, via helicopter. That's when I first started to wonder. Where is the sleigh? Where are the reindeer? Why does Santa's beard look weird – like not real? Hmm.
Then there was the “naughty or nice” thing. I knew some really good kids who only got stuff like pajamas or socks and shoes for Christmas. They were asking Santa for stuff like computers and bicycles. The really mean kids would get loads of stuff like electric guitars and tickets to rock concerts. What's the deal with Santa.
One morning, when I was nine, I woke up and realized there was nothing real about Santa Claus. That's when the trouble began. I would wake up smelling like I had been in a barn. Strange recurring dreams of a white beard and elves would fill my nights. In the dreams I was hammering away at something. There was laughter all around me but it made me feel uneasy. Always I woke up hearing a loud Ho Ho Ho.
It just goes to show that Santa does keep a list of kids. However, the list is of kids who don't believe – his black list. He creates a special hell for the kind of doubtful kid I was.
Santa was steeling me away at night. Me and disbelieving kids all over the globe were taken from home, just because we didn’t believe in Santa Claus. Here’s a lightning bolt; he uses that sled year round. Except for Christmas Eve he’s not delivering toys. Santa stuffed me in a black bag with other kids he snatched that night and threw me into his sled.
Santa’s sled is cold. I don’t want to know what he feeds those reindeer. Flatulence isn’t a strong enough word for the smell. They have so much gas no wonder they can fly. If Santa ever lights a match in mid flight Rudolph's nose won't be the only thing glowing. It occurs to me now that I was waking up not smelling like a barn but like the reindeer.
Santa populates sweat shops around the world with us disbelievers. We make toys and good cheer – all with our tears. Bah, humbug! With luck he would put me to work building cell phones in China. At least I can phone home. Trouble is no one believed me when I told them where I was and that I'd been abducted. The worst work detail is wassail making. Santa forces us to sing “Here we come a-wassailing” over and over. It’s horrible. We fill a huge warehouse with jugs of wassail. It takes days. When I smell wassail I want to throw-up.
Since I was placed on Santa’s disbeliever list, he rounds me up every year and tosses me into forced labor some place. When I start smelling like reindeer I know another holiday season is nearing. I’m part of Santa’s hell trade. He swaps my effort and my stolen days for the world's magical Christmas morning. When people wish me a merry Christmas I just turn away.
I have tried to press charges against Santa Claus. That didn't get very far. The judge sent me off for psychiatric evaluation. When I was deemed sound of mind they told me I should be ashamed of myself.
If you take nothing else from this story remember this. Space aliens have nothing to do with abductions. Big eyed grays with tiny nostrils and small mouths are not a part of this. It’s Santa and his evil trade in disbelievers.
Watch out for the children in your life. If they make noises about not believing in Santa Claus do your best to convince them otherwise. He's real alright and he knows how to hold a grudge.
