Young Writers Society

"When is he coming?!" Josie whined for the 16th time.

"I told you, he won't come." Jon sleepily moaned back.

"And how do you know, Mr. Smarty Pants?"

"Don’t you remember, 'He sees you when your sleeping, he knows when you're awake, he knows if you've been bad or good-'"

"So be good for goodness sake!" finished Josie excitedly.

"Exactly. And even if he does come, all he'll leave is coal, considering how you've acted." explained Jon.

"I haven't been that bad this year." Josie argued.

"Yes you have! Remember how you stole Mom's favorite silver earrings so you could play dress-up? Or when you cut up Dad's brand new coat so you could make clothes for your dolls? Or when-"

Jon was interrupted by Josie again "Okay, okay. So maybe I haven't been a "perfect little angel" this year. But that doesn't mean Santa won't come!"

"Fine, what ever you say, lil' sis." Jon replied in attempt to stop arguing.

"Don't call me "lil' sis". It makes me feel like a baby."

"You are a baby."

"Am not! I'm already seven years old!"

"Yeah, a baby. Any ways, just go to sleep."

"Fine. Goodnight, Jon. Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas, Josie."

"DAMN! My back!" exclaimed Santa as he crawled out from Josie and Jon's fire place. " I have got to enslave another massage elf. And fire that son of bitch who claims he got a degree in massage therapy. Lying bastard! " Santa grumbled as he fished some cheap gifts from the dollar store out of his bag. "Thank God. These bitchy kids left cookies." He mumbled as he hobbled over to the plate of sugar cookies Josie had baked yesterday for her mom's birthday. Santa grumbled something about raccoons stealing his shepherd's pie as her gulped down Jon's night time glass of water.

"Is that you, Santa Clause?" Josie whispered curiously.

"GAH! WHO THE HELL IS IT?! I HAVE PEPPER SPRAY!" screamed Santa as he jumped around to face little Josie.

"Santa? Are you okay?" Josie asked in surprise.

Regaining his composure, Santa embarrassedly said, "Oh, uh, yes. I'm fine." "little bastards…" he mumbled under his breath as he turned around.

Santa and Josie stared awkwardly at each other, Josie with her eyes as big as golf balls and her chine down to her waist in awe. Santa just looked at the ground and mumbled something about lowering his elf's job bonuses. Suddenly, with a gleam in his eye, Santa walked over to young Josie.

"Santa has a very special present for your parents, but he needs to know where they keep they're money. Do you know where?" asked Santa suavely.

"Why do you need to know, Santa?" Josie asked, perplexed by this awkward situation.

"Well, uh, it's something only adults know. It's like a little secret. You wouldn't understand." and added "You're just a crack head…" so quietly even Santa couldn't her himself.

"Okay, Santa. My mommy and daddy keep they're money in the jar with the 'sugar' label."

"Oh, thank God! Now I can give your parents a VERY special surprise. Now go back to sleep."

Santa hurriedly waddled over to the "sugar" jar, and fumbled with the top.

"GET OFF! GET OFF! GET OFF! GET OFF YOU FRICKEN LID!!!" Santa screamed at the jar in aggravation.

"You twist the lid." Josie said, half asleep.

"Uh, yes, of course." Santa said embarrassedly as he forcefully twisted the lid off.

Santa calmly and very secretly slipped the money out of the jar and into his pocket, snickering like a mad man the whole time while mumbling about peanut butter getting stuck to his teeth.

We all know how this story ends (if you don't: Santa steals their money and runs away!). But the moral might be a little bit more difficult to comprehend. If you think it's that I'm nuts and Santa would never do that: YOU'RE WRONG! The true morale is: Santa is evil, never trust him (or for that matter, never trust a stranger who breaks into your house, steals you food and leaves you cheap presents.)