The Day I ***ed Santa

I remember that day very well. Like it was yesterday. Do not ask me who I am; you will not get the truth. Also, do not ask where I am. I won’t tell you. Now, let’s get to the confession.

It was at midnight on Christmas Day when it all started. I had stayed at his house, just like every other Christmas. He had gone out, delivered his gifts to all the good little boys and girls and finally came back home to hand some more out to everyone that had worked so hard to make this night possible.

“Hohoho,” was his first words when he walked in the door. “I need everyone to leave the room before anyone’s stocking can be filled.” I found this a little strange; he had always taken the stockings into the kitchen, never made us leave. But no one questioned it and neither did I at the time. He took his time stuffing them, getting everything just so before leaving us to our gifts and heading off to bed to sleep off the night’s exhaustion.

Well, needless to say, we all ran quickly to sort out our gifts. Everyone turned up extremely happy, myself included. I watched as the reindeer struggled to open their gifts with their hooves. I offered to help them, but they’re very proud creatures and don’t like to accept help from anyone. Everyone ended up pretty happy with whatever they got that year. Immediately after we were done with our gifts we headed for our stockings, myself expecting candy and small gifts, the others expecting other things. This is where things went bad.

I was getting through my stocking fairly quickly; the excitement of the night had been eating at me too, you know. Well, I was about half way into it when I heard soft sobs. I automatically looked around to see what was wrong. What I saw I will never forget. Blitzen was sitting there, stocking in hand, trying to hold back tears. He and I had been good friends for a very long time and I had never seen him cry once. I went over to see, for I could not imagine what could be wrong on this night.

“What’s wrong?” I said to him.

“M-m-my stocking is f-f-filled with poopies,” he choked out.

“What? Let me see,” I demanded. And what he had said was true. His stocking was filled to the bursting with animal feces. He was openly crying now.

“I d-d-don’t know why he w-w-would do this,” he sobbed. I thought about this for a while.

“He won’t be doing this again soon,” I said to him. And I walked away. Maybe I shouldn’t have. Maybe I should have stayed with my friend, comforted him, thought things through a little more. But I didn’t. I walked away from my friend and right out the front door.
Have you ever watched those Christmas movies where Santa’s house has those candy canes leading up to the door? Well, that’s true. Have you ever wondered what made them stick in the ground? They’re pointed on the end towards the ground. I pulled one out and went back inside and walked right past everyone. “What are you doing?” they were asking. I didn’t answer; just kept walking until I reached the stairs. That is when I stopped to think. Do I really want to do this? I asked myself. The answer was yes; yes I did want to.

I climbed the stairs slowly, contemplating what I was about to do. I had a while to think; the place was a mansion with four floors. I wondered what he would say, if I would regret what I would do, what the others would think of me. None of it mattered, of course. I still had to do it. I was lost in my thoughts until I reached the door. No, it wasn’t made of gingerbread or candy, nor was it spectacular in any way except for the fact that it opened into his room. I opened it and stepped inside.

It was at this point when I almost turned back. Seeing him sleeping so peacefully with his wife lying in his arms; it almost made me rethink things. But I had to avenge Blitzen.
I walked over to his bed, quiet as a mouse. I turned on the light next to his bed and raised the candy cane. He stirred and mumbled for a moment before opening his eyes and looking at me.

“Having a good sleep, old man?” I said.

“What are you--“ he started before being cut off as I grabbed his beard. By now Mrs. Claus had woken up.

“This is what you get when you screw with my friends!” I shouted and brought my weapon down hard into his chest. I vaguely remember hearing a woman’s scream.

“HOHOHO! Merry Christmas, Blitzen!” he wailed.

“Bastard!” I yelled as I pulled it out and shoved it back in again. Now Mrs. Claus decided to jump in. She grabbed my hand and tried to pull my weapon from her husband’s chest. I felt bad for her losing her husband and worse for what I would do next. I let go of the candy cane and Santa’s beard and grabbed his wife with both hands. I pulled her forward and off the bed.

“You don’t have to be involved,” I said.

“You murdered my husband, bitch!” she bellowed, diving for me. I reached behind me and grabbed the candy cane that was still stuck in Santa’s chest and I shoved it under her rib cage. She let out one long, wordless wail and then fell silent. I knew she was dead and so was he.

I started to walk down the stairs, thinking about what I had just done. I stopped in my tracks and just shook. I was a wreck for a few minutes; the shaking, I felt nauseas, I could not breath properly. It only lasted a second because that is when I heard hooves coming up the stairs. I stood up straight and waited for their questions. It was Blitzen who was there first.

“What was all that noise we heard?” he asked.

“Yeah, and the screams,” added Donner. I explained to them what happened.

I would love to tell you what happened after that - how they reacted, how I escaped. But, sadly, I cannot. That would be too much information. So that is where I leave you, my wonderful reader. I’m sure you can figure out the rest.