Random Thoughts

Merry Christmas all! I bring you another one of my very odd and somehow violent Christmas stories. Read at your own risk…heh. I do wish you and yours a Very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year!

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The metal felt cold against my forehead. I tried to lick my lips, but they were suddenly dry.

“Santa…you don’t want to do this.” I heard the high pitched voice of a near by…person?

“I’m Not Santa! My name is Jim. Jim Devree! I never wanted thisposition…” His voice carried the cadence of a New Yorker from the 50’s. At least how the movies presented a New Yorker from the
fifties.

“Jim,” I said very carefully. I could barely talk, I had to force my tongue to work. Santa…Jim…had proved the gun worked earlier when he blew a hole in one of those little people. “Jim. I don’t know what
is going on, but I don’t think you want to kill an innocent man, do you?”

“INNOCENT?” He almost yelled. “I know about those…Magazines you used to read.” He looked down at my now white skin. “Oh yah..I know.”

Jim brought his face close to mine, I could smell the stale alcohol on his breath mixed with something even more foul.

“Cal…I know those nights you snuck in to watch voyeur theater on Cinemax. And the phone calls.. you WERE ONLY 10 YEARS OLD!” He slapped me across the head with the pistol and my whole world exploded
in pain, stars, and a momentary twirling. I could hear something going on, the sound of high pitched voices and gun fire.

Then…nothing.

I came to with the wind in my face. I lay in a seat of some sort, the red and green glow of lights sparkling in the darkness. I was warm. Looking down I saw that I had on the red and white fur lined suit
that…Jim was wearing.

“Good morning Santa.” A gruff, yet still high pitched, voice said behind me. I glanced back and a tiny man chomping on a cigar was securing his load. It had a distinct body shape to it.

“Santa?” I said, still reeling from the blow to my head. “I’m Cal.”

“Not any more you’re not.” The little guy pointed forward. Nine tiny reindeer flew against the moon in front of me, another little man holding the reigns. Below me the ground sped by in a blur.

I fell back, my body hitting the soft seat.

“Just promise me something, Jack. Don’t let the naughty list get to ya’. Not everyone grows up to be bad.” The little guy said, the front of his cigar matching with the lights around the sleigh.

I shook my head in agreement and realized my life had suddenly took a 90 degree turn of the edge of no where. As the wind ripped past my fast growing beard, I wondered the oddest thing. Was there already a
Mrs. Claus?

Tags: Christmas, Santa Claus

This entry was posted by Warren on Wednesday, December 23rd, 2009 at 11:17 am and is filed under random writing. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.