Sandy Claus

Year after year, Mrs. Claus, would organize the helpers, plot Mr. Claus’s course for the year, create toy plans, test Christmas recipes, feed, train and groom the reindeer and wrap presents. Millions of presents (and the number only grows year after year). All the while, “Santa” gets the credit, the cookies and milk, cards, praise, pictures, parades, and nobody thinks of “Mrs. Claus”. Even the reindeer get treats, songs, and gifts. Year after year, Sandy Claus kept to herself, stayed in “her lane” and accepted her role and the duties that came with it.

"I feel like Cinderella, you know what I mean Dasher?" "Wrap the presents, make the cookies, feed the reindeer, yada yada yada" Said Sandy in a mocking way. As fate would have it, "Here Comes Santa Claus" starts playing on the radio. That was enough to trigger Sandy. "UGGGHH!! ENOUGH ALREADY!" She yelled in frustration as she kicked the bucket of feed, sending reindeer food everywhere. One of the reindeer grunted in protest. "That's right Dancer! You know what I mean! How many reindeer are there?! All they sing about is Rudolph! Rudolph isn't even a real reindeer! 9 reindeer pull the sleigh, but they only sing about 1!"

Sandy wasn't always like this, she knows her role is to support Mr. Claus and be there for him, but some days, a little appreciation would be nice, or a song at the very least. Every year she just gets older, more tired and more frustrated, meanwhile the population and the demands just keep growing. Who's supposed to take over when they're gone? What if Mr. Claus passes before her, then she has to do both roles? What if she passes before Mr. Claus? Then who will do everything? Her intrusive thoughts were really starting to wear her out, and probably the animals too. It was time for her to call it a night.

Mrs. Claus said her good nights and apologized to the animals for her ranting. She headed back to the house that snowy night, not knowing, everything was about to change. She slipped on ice, tumbled into a snowman and fell, smacking her head on the icy ground. She didn’t know how long she was there, but when she came to, she was slightly confused. She made her way into the house. Mr. Claus was passed out in front of the fireplace, spiced eggnog still in his hand. Sandy looked at him with a disgusted look, snatched the drink from his hand and finished the rest. Mr. Claus didn’t even flinch, just a snort. He didn’t even notice his wife was missing, nor that she had had an accident. Would he have even cared?! Suddenly, she became so enraged, she grabbed an ice pick from the counter and stabbed Mr. Claus, 12 times. All the while, yelling: “Ho HO HOOO Merry CHRISTMAS!”

When she was finished, she had an epiphany: Mrs. Claus was on a mission to take back Christmas (or destroy it completely). She stepped outside for a moment to gather her thoughts. When she stumbled into the dismantled snowman, it gave her an idea. She would dress as “Frosty” and find every last “believer” and make them a non-believer. She put on the scarf and hat, made a quick costume from decorations and headed out with her bloody ice pick.

Using “Santa’s” “naughty and nice” list, she sought out every believer she could find. Dressed as, rounded up the bewildered reindeer and set out in the night Santa's sleigh. Dressed as “Frosty” she went house to house, killing unsuspecting families with her ice pick, eating snacks and stealing gifts along the way (only the gifts she wanted of course, the others were thrown in the fire or re-gifted to “non-believers”). She even made up here own song:

In a realm of chilling fright,

A twisted tale soon takes flight.

Sandy Claus, a frosty guise,

With a coal-black heart and icy eyes.

A reindeer sleigh, no joyful cheer,

But whispers of impending fear.

She stalks the night, a silent wraith,

Leaving trails of frozen faith.

Believers tremble, hearts turn cold,

As Christmas spirit takes a hold.

No presents bright, no carols sung,

Just silent screams, forever hung.

The snow-capped roofs, a canvas white,

Reflect the horror of the night.

A crimson stain upon the snow,

A testament to those below.

Sandy Claus, a monstrous sight,

A mockery of festive light.

She feasts on fear, a twisted glee,

As Christmas joy begins to flee.

Beware the frost, the chilling wind,

For Sandy Claus has surely sinned.

She'll steal your warmth, your very soul,

And leave you in an icy hold.

So lock your doors, extinguish the light,

And pray for dawn to end the night.

For Sandy Claus, the frost-bitten saint,

Is coming, leaving naught but taint.

The moral of this chilling rhyme,

Is to be wary all the time.

For even in the festive cheer,

Darkness may be lurking near.

Maybe it was the sugar, or all the excitement, but Sandy Claus began to feel exhausted, unable to go on. On one of her last stops, she found a cozy couch, and thinking she killed everyone, she fell asleep by the fire. 

In the wee hours of the morning, the owner, a marine, returned home to surprise his family for Christmas. It was still dark and quiet when he arrived. He was being quiet himself, so as to not wake the family. Still something wasn’t quite right. When he made it upstairs, he realized the true horror. His family had been annihilated. Before he broke down, he thought, what if the intruder was still in the house? Without looking at the bodies, he quietly went to his gun safe, grabbed his gun, loaded the ammo and tipped toed through the house.

He cleared room after room until he reached the living room. He could see a mass, but couldn’t quite make it out. He inched closer, squinting to make out what he was seeing. Who or what is this? Maybe a homeless person was responsible for all this? 

“HEY!” Said the marine, as he kicked the couch. Mrs. Claus got startled, jumped up and scared for her life, she lunged at the man, stabbing him with her ice pick. But not before the marine could let off a few shots. The ice pick pierced the man, and Sandy went down with a THUD on the ground. She had finally been stopped. The marine may not have been able to save his family, but he was able to stop any further deaths. Mr. and Mrs. Claus were declared dead on Christmas. Christmas still goes on to honor the tradition. That only leaves one question, Do You Believe?