Introduction
I have noticed that many Christians think of themselves as, I guess, better than everyone else. Being Jewish, I find this a little offensive, and I’m not one of those religious Jews who observe everything. No. I’ve only been to synagogue a few times in my life. But I still find it annoying that kids at a public school say things that are against Jews and other religions as well. In fact, one of the lines in the short story is basically a quote spoken by one of my classmates.
This is why I decided to write a satire-type story, in which Santa Claus gives his view on Christmas. I do not agree with what this Santa Claus thinks, but that’s the point. So enjoy, but note that I have nothing against any religion, at least as long as they don’t say bad things about another’s beliefs.
The Actual Story
Christmas Dream
When I awoke on the morning of Christmas Eve, I was already exhausted. All of my elves had already gone all they could for me, so it was all up to me (and, I suppose, my reindeer too). All of the toys had been made to be gifts for the kids who’d been nice, and the coal for the naughty ones had been prepared as well. It made me sad that there were almost as many naughty children as nice ones, but it made my job a little easier. All that was left for me to do this holiday season was to distribute everything. But I didn’t have a reindeer like the legendary Rudolph to lead me and my sled through the blizzard. I could already barely see due to all the snow.
Now, don’t get me wrong. I adore my job. It’s wonderful to give, and the sprit of Christmas is so joyous I feel as if there is more happiness in giving than receiving. All of the gathering together among family during the seasonal winter holidays shows holiday cheer.
It just isn’t as it used to be.
People are becoming more selfish. I remember once I was at someone’s house and I could hear the TV upstairs playing A Christmas Carol. The family was exclaiming about how awful Scrooge was, so I really wanted to tell them how similar to him they were. It was really all bah humbug. The adults only cared about the time off, and the kids were merely interested in receiving presents. There is no longer much mention of Jesus as the baby in a manger, born as he was to the Virgin Mary in Bethlehem on the holy day of Christmas.
And then there’s everyone who doesn’t celebrate.
There are those who follow a different religion, and therefore celebrate holidays like Hanukkah and Kwanzaa. I dislike how these people stray from the true religion of Christianity. I mean, Jews of all people should convert. They’re monsters made of 5% money, 5% coverage, and 90% hot air. But the worst are those who don’t do anything at all. They might make a snowman or two, and maybe even decorate the house with a few snow flakes, and some may listen to Christmas music. Some go so far as to go about trimming a pine tree for a “Christmas tree,” which they decorate with a star and ornaments, but don’t think about it at all.
So I was trying to get myself ready to travel through the snowstorm both mentally and physically. I went over the list of children and what each of them was to receive one last time, and then it was time to set out.
I began by cooking myself a nice Christmas dinner. Yes, I have to eat too. How else would I fill up that huge stereotypical costume? I was eating ham and turkey, and there was fruitcake for desert. I didn’t want to eat too much, for hopefully some of the kids would still have cookies and milk out for me.
The first house I came to was actually all right. Sure, they weren’t praying or anything, but I couldn’t expect anyone to anymore. At least they were listening to “Silent Night,” and there was some mistletoe and several winter berries lying around and candles were burning with a pleasant smell. A wreath was hanging on the door, and the table was decorated with a Christmas-themed centerpiece. The kids were playing and making winter arts and crafts, the father was talking with his friends, the mother was cooking, and the relatives were relaxing after traveling so far.
That’s another thing I’d like to point out. I don’t deliver gifts in the middle of the night. I wouldn’t have time, even with the different time zones. No, I do it all on Christmas Eve, albeit usually closer to evening. And I don’t enter through the chimney, either. The front door is sufficient, thank you very much. I knock, enter the house, put down the presents, and leave. How does no one notice me? The presents stay invisible until the kids wake up in the morning, and I erase their memories so they don’t remember what happened. The whole idea is for people to believe without truly seeing.
So I entered to see the children wearing the sweaters their grandmother had knitted for them last Christmas, which made me happy. I knew this was the kind of family I liked. There were chestnuts roasting on an open fire with Yule logs. No one realized I was there, so I watched as the father read “Night Before Christmas” to the kids and then Dr. Seuss’s “Grinch Who Stole Christmas.”
I put down the gifts and was about to leave. But as I stepped outside, several icicles fell on my head and I slipped on some ice crystals, landing on the nearby snowman poop.
That was when I found out that the rumors about falling are not true. There were no stars floating around my head. No numbness to let me forget the pain.
The only true thing was my memory. Or my lack thereof. I opened my eyes and looked around. The first thing I saw was the front door, so I knocked.
The father answered, but one of the younger children was right behind him. “Santa Claus?” the boy screamed. I could tell that he was excited, but there was no greed in his cry. No attitude of “gimmee, gimmee.”
I entered the house, and the boy asked, “Where are all the presents, Santa?”
Probably seeing my confused look, his father answered for me. “Everyone is Christmas shopping so there are crowded stores. That’s why I don’t like last minute shopping, especially since everything’s closed.”
“But it’s Santa, Daddy! ‘Tis the season for Santa to bring us all presents!”
“Yes, well, he found out how much I hate it when batteries aren’t included, so he needed to do some returning or exchanging gifts. And then he needs to gift wrap the presents. So he decided he’d rather participate in some after Xmas Sales, and then you’ll get even more presents.”
I was still disoriented, but I managed to reach into my pocket and pull something out. “Here’s a greeting card for you,” I announced.
“Thanks Santa! I love Christmas cards!” the boy screamed. “Wait, could you act in our little “Three Wise Men” thing? We need a fat old man for what we’ve done with it.”
“Um, I don’t think I can. Pretend. That makes it more fun,” I suggested. By then, I was finally beginning to remember a little bit. So I continued, “And, um, can you promise me one thing?”
“What Santa?”
“Never lose your Christmas spirit. Always believe in me and in Christmas. And if you can, get everyone else to do the same thing. Christmas shouldn’t be about gifting and re-gifting, putting up and taking down decorations, eating and playing. I mean, all of that is of course involved, but it’s not the most important part. What’s important is being with your family, or maybe your friends, and having a good time. And of course, try not to forget about what Jesus did for you.”
As soon as I said it, I realized how stupid it was. This family was doing everything right anyway, and it’s not like he could make others believe him. Besides, how could a little kid understand? And even if he did, he’d forget once I left. I mean, I couldn’t let them remember. And yet the kid nodded.
It was time for me to go. There was nothing else I could do, and the family was beginning to look uncomfortable with my presence. I did everything I always did before I left, and yet it seemed as if I was leaving part of myself behind.
I went through the rest of the houses in a haze. I didn’t fully comprehend anything for nearly a week, and then I looked back at that family. It was New Years Eve, and they were getting ready. I liked what they were doing, so I didn’t look again until they were cleaning up.
All that year, the little boy was very good. And by the time the next Christmas came around, everyone in that family gathered together again. They discussed Jesus for a little bit, which made me extremely happy. But the best thing of all was how some of his friends seemed to be doing better too.
It was a wonderful year, so I went home satisfied. And the best thing of all was that everything only improved. The next year, there were even more people who participated in the right kind of Christmas. It just kept escalating.
Of course, that meant that I had to work harder, but it was worth it. Christmas spirit had returned!
Within the next decade, the amount of naughty kids nearly disappeared. And twelve years after that fateful day, every single person on Earth did what I had wanted: celebrated Christmas the right way. There was no more variety. There was only Christmas.
And soon, that tradition passed beyond the Christmas season. With everyone being faithful Christians, every single public (and private) school became Christian. The children had to pray and everything! The pagan religions were all gone!
We Christians ruled the world!
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