Unmerry Christmas

Mommy and Daddy think I’m a smart kid. I do really well in school, I know all the names of the planets, and I can name any dinosaur. I’ll have you beaten if you can’t spell the name of the Pachycephalosaurus. I’m smart, I really am! Which is why, even though the man was dirty and scraggly when I saw him outside our house through the front door window, I could still tell it was none other than Santa Claus.

I opened the door with a thrilling demeanour, wanting to show the respect I had for one such jolly old man. But what I saw shocked me: a not-so-jolly man whose eyes were sunken. He was an upsetting image of a man, evidently old, dirt and grime all over his faded red overalls and flat cap--the ones those British wear--and his immense white beard covered with filth as if he had been sleeping in a trash bin for weeks. Teeth missing, hands shaking, a frame scragglier than I’d imagined. 

“Hello, young one,” said the old man. “Are you all alone? Ah, I see.” After realizing that, and after seeing my paralyzed expression, his face seemed to show understanding that this was a mistake, and so as he was about to leave, I said, “Wait! Where are my toys?”

“Toys?” The man paused for a second. Then his eyes widened as one would do when they would gain an incredible idea. “Yes, yes, toys! Ho, ho, ho, young one! I will deliver them soon, don’t you worry. I am just stopping by to do a house check. I do this with all the houses of children to see if they have been naughty.”

“I’ve been really good this year, Santa! I promise!”

“Ah, but I have to be sure by checking your house for any ill-natured things. May I come in?”

“Surely!”

Oh, poor Santa Claus, in his dispirited state of gloom, who polluted the house with his dirtiness as I let him in! But I shall not judge the jolly old man. He has brought joy and wonder to millions of kids around the world, and who am I to be one criticizing his eccentric state and behaviour? I asked not why he looked like this, for that would be a disgrace to my childhood integrity, and instead I treated him as a valued guest, and truly, it was such an honour to have the Man of the North Pole in my house, in the flesh!

“Where are your parents, young one?” asked Santa as he wandered around the living room of the house, taking in all the sights.

“They’re at a party,” I admitted.

“And they didn’t bring you?”

“Some adult party, I suppose. They told me I’ll be fine here all alone. And if anything goes wrong, I have you now, Santa!”

“Quite.” He smiled. He seemed to like the answer I gave him. The jolly old man made his way to the kitchen, his muddy boots causing dirty footprints all over the floor. I realized I hadn’t told him to take them off. Oh well, I’ll just have to explain to my parents that Santa came and didn’t have time to take them off. “How old are you?” he asked.

“Six,” I answered.

“Mhm-hmm. And do you have any booze?” He said this as he rummaged through the contents of our refrigerator, sifting through items aggressively. I could hear the clinking and clanking of bottles and containers inside.

I tilted my head. “Booze?”

“Beer, wine, rum, whiskey, anything. I’ll even take what those Russians drink.”

I hiccuped my next words: “But Santa, I thought you liked cookies and milk!”

“I do,” he assured me, “but as of now, I’m not feeling too hungry. And booze helps my tummy too, surely you’d understand that.”

“I think my Daddy has some of those drinks you’re looking for, in the back.”

He hunted for a little while more until he said, “Aha,” and found it: a fresh bottle of wine. He didn’t hesitate to open it and start drinking straight from the bottle.

“So, Santa, did you get my message of what I want for Christmas?” I tried to say it sweetly and politely, I did not want to disturb him too much.

“Huh? Maybe. What was it again?”

This time, I gasped for real. “How could you forget, Santa! I want a big tyrannosaurus rex!”

“Uh, right, of course. I didn’t forget, I just don’t have it all at the top of my head. My elves do that for me. I got them making the wings right now.”

“But a tyrannosaurus rex doesn’t have any wings, Santa!”

“Yes, yes, I was just testing you. Say, kid,” he took a swig from his bottle and looked up. “Where is your parents’ room?”

“I’ll take you there, sir!”

I lead him up the stairs. I wanted to show him I was a good boy. I really wanted that t-rex for Christmas.

When we got there, Father Christmas began rummaging through the room, as he had done with the refrigerator, looking for something once more.

“What are you looking for?” I asked, trying to sound innocent. I was afraid if I asked too many questions, I would be considered naughty.

He paused. He was in deep thought for a moment, formulating an answer. Then he said, “My elf on the shelf that was assigned here lost something. I’m just looking for it.”

How polite of Santa to do that for his loyal workers! It delighted me to see such compassion from the jolly old man, even in his depressive state. I may never learn why he looked as scruffy as a raccoon that night, nor why he liked to inspect our house so much, but at least I knew he was still the same old Santa for boys and girls around the world.

“And then I’ll be on my way,” he said. “Your house is good, I’ve checked it enough. You are a good boy as well. I will give you your dinosaur.”

In my head I screamed a gleeful cry, hardly containing myself. Oh, the magic of Christmas, the magic of Santa Claus! This merriment was unheard of; this jubilation boundless. Bless Father Christmas! I would get my dinosaur!

In my moment of triumph, I had failed to notice he had found some cash inside a drawer beside my parents’ bed. He was currently slipping the bills into his coat pocket. I asked, “What are you taking?”

He froze, his body trembling, his back to me. 

A long moment passed.

Then I asked, “Is that what your elf left here?”

“Yes!” he exclaimed. He stopped shaking. “It is! Very important that I bring it back to him. You have my thanks, young one, I will be leaving now. Merry Christmas!”

See, I told you I was a smart kid!

Soon Santa Claus left the house, in quite a hurry, I must add, for some odd reason. I had a blissful rest of the night. I was able to sleep easily, and in my dreams, I saw dinosaurs. 

However, Christmas morning was much different than what I had expected. My parents were horrified at what they found, and they grounded me immediately for letting a man inside the house and do all this. I scoffed at my predicament; they didn’t know, did they? That I was smart enough to know it had been Santa Claus who had visited the house last night. When I told them, they laughed at me, and ever since, it has been within my knowledge that my parents are Santa-deniers.

I’m a smart kid. Which is why, the following year in the cold of October, on the night when everyone dresses up in costumes known as Halloween, when I saw a full-grown man with a burlap sack and a black cotton mask covering all but his eyes and mouth, I let him in the house. For I knew he was just a trick-or-treater who wanted some candy, dressed up as a robber!

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