Christmas is almost here and once again we’re all faced with the terrors of St. Nicholas, the supernatural interloper who demands entry into our homes once a year to eat our food and, if we’re lucky, leave us gifts under the evergreen we sacrificed for his pleasure.
If you don’t have a chimney, you have to leave your door unlocked on Christmas Eve. Otherwise, if Santa is hungry, he’ll break in, and if he’s not hungry, he’ll move on to the next house, leaving no presents.
And where does Santa get his elves? Those are children he stole from their beds, enslaved in the eternal winter of the North Pole as punishment for being awake when he peeked into their rooms. Like Francis Wolcott, the serial killer of prostitutes in Deadwood, Santa doesn’t like to have been seen. Wake early on Christmas Eve, my friends, and spike your eggnog in the early evening.
You may want to distract yourself from the whisper of the wind and the clomp of Santa’s boots on the roof. If so, I recommend getting lost in a good book.
Merry Christmas! Now do this: