Candy Coated Christmas

2013-bad-santa-kittyMy rather cheeky version of a naughty Santa, clocking in at 499 sugary words, in honor of Ruth Long’s third annual Bad Santa Blog Hop! There are more fun tales to be read, so hop on over and have a few stabs at the big guy!

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Tantalizing tendrils of gingerbread tickle my nose, calling up memories of christmas cookies and hot chocolate.

It’s been years since I had the luxury of sugary confections.  All EMCTs are held to a strict regimen. Most recruits fall off the sled before a week is up. Surrounded by sugar plums, they end up knee deep in mini marshmallows, and a few candy canes later, their off the team.

A flash of red pops through the door. “Oh, thank goodness you’re here.”

“What seems to be the trouble, Mrs. Claus?”

“Nick’s not been himself lately,” she fidgets with the furry white lining of her sleeves. “It’s the elves, poor dears. They gave him an early gift, you see, to keep the edge off. He tends to get a bit snippy this time of year, ya know.”

“I’m still waiting for my eggnog,” someone barks from behind the door, “and don’t be stingy with the brandy!”

“Is that–”

“Santa? Yes, dear. That’s why I called. You see, he’s been watching episodes of Once Upon a Time. The elves thought it would keep his mind off things. Worked like a charm. Now, that’s all he wants to do. Hasn’t left the room for days. Come see for yourself.”

I walk past Mrs. Claus into the dark media room, my senses assaulted with stale peppermint and days old sweat. I glance at my watch warily. Only two more days till Christmas. “Santa? It’s me, Jack. Why don’t we step outside for a bit, get some fresh air, visit the reindeer.”

Santa grunted something unintelligible and waved me off, shoving a strand of strawberry licorice into his mouth. Bits of brightly colored candy peppered his knotted beard. His attention was glued to the program projected onto, what appeared to be, a newly installed screen.

“Won’t work, dear,” Mrs. Claus shakes her head, wispy white curls dancing wildly around her ruddy face. “We’ve tried just about everything. This calls for an Emergency Merry Christmas Technician intervention.”

“I’ll handle this.” I edge in front of the screen. “Santa, it’s time to get your gifts in order. Remember? Christmas is just around the corner.”

Something small and hard bounces off my forehead. “You bloody better well move before I reach for the rock candy, son.”

Another M&M meets the tender flesh of my earlobe.  “Millions of children are depending on you.”

“I’ve got the elves working overtime ordering on Amazon–free two-day shipping. Now, step aside son, this is the second season finale,” Santa seethes, chubby fingers curled into fists.

“I’m sorry sir, but I can’t do that. Christmas is too important.”

Santa’s eyes give an evil twinkle. “If I recall, these used to be your favorite,” he grins, offering a jumbo bag of Reese’ Pieces. “Why don’t you sit a spell. We can order season three on Hulu.”

The candy-coated pieces of heaven call to me. My failing resolve settles amongst sticky piles of discarded wrappers.

Santa pats me on the back. “There’s a nice boy.”

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© 2013 Samantha Redstreake Geary

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