Creative Story: One Sick ChristmasJay June1/5/96″Hurry up Joe! It’s 10:15, your fifteen minutes late!” Claire screamedfrom outside the dressing room with a hint of a New York Accent. Claire wasSanta’s helper at the mall.
“I’m coming!” Joe yelled back. “Stupid kids, I hate kids.” Joe mumbledto himself while getting himself dressed.
Joe was the Santa at the local mall. Since Joe had just been releasedfrom the mental institution for insanity, the cost of the institution wiped himout of money so he needed the job badly.When the job was offered to him hehad to take it.
Joe was a scrawny man. Not your usual Santa Clause. He had no rosycheeks or round belly, he didn’t have the hearty laugh nor real white hair. Hisribs poked out of his skin and his stomach looked like an empty cave. His eyeswere pushed into his head way more than most people, the dark rings circling hismade his eyes look like they were going to pop out any second. The bones of hischeeks showed through his dry, pale skin making him look like a zombie.
“Let’s go now!!” Claire screeched at the top of her lungs.
Claire meant this time. Quickly, Joe stumbled out of the dressing roomin a clumsy fashion. Looking like he had just chugged a couple of kegs,dragged his oversized Santa coat and pants with him hopping they wouldn’t falldown and left the dressing room. Joe and Claire walked toward where Santa’s hutwas while watching a crowd gather around it.
“Ya know Claire,” Joe said, “I really hate my job.””Really,” replied Claire in a sarcastic tone, “Who doesn’t hate littlebrats crawling around on your lap.”Joe sat down in his special Santa chair and waited for the first childto come forward.
The fist kid was about five yrs. old. Joe thought he was disgusting.
The child was wearing cuarteroy overalls with a white turtleneck underneath.
The cuarteroys had crusty stains of peanut butter all down the front of his navyblue overalls. Making a revolting contrast between colors. The turtleneckseemed to have lost its whiteness a long time ago. It was imbedded with redpasta sauce and olive chunks glued to the sauce. His face wasn’t veryattractive either. On his left cheek a piece of spagetti attached to his skindangled and dried mucus flaked off his upper lip. Joe leaned back in remorsewishing this was all a long terrifying dream.
The kid hopped on his lap and in a happy voice said,”Hi Mr. Santa Clause, can I tell you what I want for Christmas?””Ya sure kid, go ahead.” Joe replied.
As the child dragged on about his stupid toys and things he wanted, Joethought about something else, his revenge.
Revenge to get back at all these little punks who have annoyed him eversince he got the job. He wanted revenge……….badly.
Joe had an idea.
“Hey kid, can you shut-up for a second.” Joe sternly asked.
“Okay” The child answered.
“Since I think you’re my favorite kid of all,” Joe praised, ” I’m goingto give you a special present.”” What!?!? Tell me! Tell me!!” The kid excitedly asked.
“Something you’d never guess.” Joe answered” Just come with me after all the kids are gone.”Joe pushed the kid off his lap before he could answer and the next kidjumped on his lap.
Joe quickly finished talking to the rest of disgusting, impatient kids,and turned to see if the kid in the navy blue overalls was still waiting. Thekid stood next to Joe with a selfish, happy, but disgustingly wide grin attachedto his face, stretching from ear to ear.
” Ya ready?” Asked Joe.
“Yippee!” The child screamed. “I’m going to get a present! I’m goingto get a present! I’m going to…….””Shut-up kid!” Joe yelled becoming very impatient and irritated. “Nowlet’s go.”Joe led the brat into his dressing room and told him to sit by thecloset as Joe shut the door. Joe opened a drawer and pulled out the surprise.
A few minutes later Claire walked into the dressing room, but stoppeddead in her tracks. She screamed. It was too late, Joe had gotten his revenge.
In Joe’s hand was a knife, soaked in blood that was dripping in a rhythmicpattern to the floor. And on the floor was a child laying in a pool of blood.
His navy blue overalls were stained to the color maroon from the blood and apiece of spagetti dangled from his left cheek.
you may have the honor of taking the copyright into your own hands.-Jay June