The big man strokes his white beard. “It’s been a hard season…”
“Seen the new requests?!” shouts one elf. “Epidemics, tanks, false flags… And we’re hungry.”
“I’ve brought in a consultant.”
A black, hooded robe enters, holding a tray. “All will be delivered this Christmas. For now, enjoy reindeer steaks.”
Joey thinks it is never too early to plan for the coming Christmas.
“I’m fat,” Chris told his mirror image, clutching his paunch. “Diet in the new year, Mary.”
Another year passed. His resolution lacked resolve.
“Oh Chris,” Mary soothed. “That’s why the children and I love you.” She tugged his beard towards her and kissed him. “Santa is supposed to be cuddly.”
Mark Towers writes children’s books, short stories and poetry.
Jim lived with Uncle Roy and Aunt Millie. Once he confronted Millie about a rumour he’d heard. “They say Santa isn’t real, and my presents from him are really from Roy.”
“Honestly, Jim,” said Millie. “D’you think I’d let Roy spend that much on you?”
Jim believed for another year.
Thomas A. North lives in rural Ontario, Canada. He has many relatives, and is owned by a grey and white cat.
He’d taken this route every year. Nothing like this ever happened before. Guy came out of nowhere.
The reindeer were fatter this year so they blocked his view.
Opening his hip flask, he studied the splatter on the road.
Nobody believed in him anyway. Better go before witnesses turn up.
Joey does not and never did believe in the existence of Santa.
He thought about retiring.
He took a leave-of-absence, headed south, got a job driving kids to summer camp. He’d always liked kids.
These kids laughed at his belly, threw things into his beard.
He couldn’t wait to get home where kids were just names on lists—naughty or nice.
Candace Kubinec posts her stories at storydribbles.wordpress.com and her poetry at rhymeswithbug.com.
After years of business suppers, his wife put him on a diet. The benefits were obvious. The uniform was looser and his delivery route was quicker. He could go in and out of buildings faster and travel lighter.
But refusing client generosity proved difficult. He never could resist mince pies.
Viv Burgess is aware that he also likes cookies or biscuits but on a diet he should really only eat the carrots.
Johnny finally reached Santa’s grotto.
“Ricky said my mom brings the toys on Christmas morning, but you’re real and I can prove it!” he gasped.
“Remember the cup of cocoa you drunk dry last year?”
“I put three sugars in that cup, and my mom hates sugar.”
John B. Sinclair is a much-travelled Scot who has now returned to Scotland, where he enjoys freelance writing on a variety of subjects.
Despite what he’d been told, Billy Donaldson still believed. They just had to be wrong. Santa was real.
He fell to his bed, weeping into his pillow. Only the action figures on his shelf and his puppy heard the mournful cries.
But the rustling on the roof gave him pause.
David Galassie is a fruitcake enthusiast and a history buff. His blog, chronicling the history and foibles of his old hometown, is at menashabook.blogspot.com
My neighbor told me that her son, Charlie, saw Santa at the mall the other day. Charlie asked Santa to get him a TIE Fighter from Star Wars for Christmas. Santa roared with approval and promised to get Charlie not only a typewriter, but some paper for it as well.
John Sheirer is the author of several books for adults and children. His most recent is a counting book called, Tim-Buck-Ten, featuring photos of his canine coauthor, Libby. Find John at johnsheirer.com
Cop cars escort an open flatbed truck, stopping at every block with bullhorn announcements.
Residents of all ages come out to cheer as frightened youngsters are enticed to climb aboard the fat stranger, pose for pictures, and take his candy before he’s hauled away in a whoop of flashing sirens.
Lee DeAmali resides in the Los Angeles area with grown children who claim to have fond memories of this annual local tradition.