Merry Christmas

"Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas!"

Jessica squints her eyes and bites down on her pinkish lower lip.

"Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas!"

Jessica smiles, wrinkles forming around the corners of her mouth. She shakes her head down and chuckles.

"Darling, what's the matter? What is going on in that big head of yours?"

She gets up from her leather office chair and walks to her husband to squeeze his large, cold hands. Jessica's husband has never been so melancholy on December 24th.

"I'm…worried," he shares.

"About what?"

"Tonight.”

Jessica was alarmed by her husband’s words. In the 4 centuries her husband has been delivering presents and joy to children all around the world, she has never heard him say those words.

“What is there to worry about? The elves are organized. Everyone has been getting along. The reindeer are so excited for tonight and full of energy. Rudolph’s nose is shining brighter than ever, I think we could shut off the headlights on the sleigh to save energy- "

“Jessica. It’s not that.”

“Is it him?”

“What? The Grinch? I do not know what he’s up to right now!”

Jessica searches for the answer in her husband’s eyes, but all she sees is her reflection. She drops his hands.

“Now you are starting to worry me. You need to tell me what is going on,” Jessica says sternly.

“I simply do not know. I just feel unusual.”

“Is it me?” Jessica asks.

Nicholas doesn’t answer.

                                     ---         ---         ---

“Mr. Claus? Mr. Claus?” Jeanie the Elf asks aggressively.

Nicholas perks up from his dazed state and looks around. All the elves have stopped their work activities to observe the overweight man, normally jolly, sulk in his sleigh.

The elves exchange hushed whispers coated in concern. Not only is this moment instilling fear in them, but the Christmas operation is running behind.

“Why have you stopped? We need to get going. We need to be in New Zealand in 9 minutes!” Nicholas yells.

The elves shake at the thunderous volume of his voice and immediately finish packing the last few presents into his enormous red bag and feeding the reindeer their carrots.

                                      ---         ---         ---

Nicholas has been delivering presents – or coal for the naughty children – for a few hours now. By the time Nicholas and the reindeer got to Amsterdam, Rudolph’s nose was getting dimmer, and he was feeling slight fatigue. But they had to keep going.

Nicholas was not singing holiday tunes as they flew in the crisp, frigid air in Croatia. He even dropped the wrong present, a gaming console, in the wrong house in Nigeria, and had to fly back to little Kemi’s house to switch it with the correct one, a skateboard. The reindeer could sense the disorganization and gloominess from Nicholas. Nicholas knew that tonight was more delicate than usual because he was making mistakes for the first time in centuries.

His stomach was full of nerves.

And milk and cookies.

                                                                       ---         ---         ---

11:55pm CST. Winnipeg, Manitoba, Canada.

Nicholas rolls forward and lands on his feet in an upright position, like an Olympic gymnast. His chunky Black boots leave faint imprints on the beige carpet. The Christmas lights are still on inside the Alozie family home, providing light to guide him towards the Christmas tree. He places three gifts: a bicycle for Kechi – 8, a basketball hoop for Leon – 10, and a limited-edition comic book for Josiah – 12.

Nicholas smiles. A sense of peace washes over him. A feeling he has not felt all day.

Josiah is the oldest, and he recently started to lose vision in his right eye. It has changed how he plays with his friends, and how he learns his favourite subjects in school. But he was an exceptionally good boy this year. He deserves that comic book.

That’s what it’s all about for Nicholas. Bringing joy to children.

Nicholas looks around the cozy living room looking for cookies and milk. With nothing in sight to quench his thirst or hunger, he walks towards the kitchen.

This family is well off, he thinks to himself. Big white cabinets, stainless steel appliances, large square footage.

Pristine. Clean. Quiet.

Milk and cookies wait for him on the large rectangular wooden dining table.

Nicholas sips on the milk. He can see the family’s new silver barbeque grill sitting outside the back door through the sliding door windows. The right side of the sliding door looked damaged – the white siding is bent and cracked.

So much for pristine.

As he put the tall glass of milk down, his head became hot. Sweat started to form from underneath his red hat.

Something is not right, he thought.

The milk was hot.

Steaming.

As if someone had just warmed it up just before he got there.

“Police! Put your hands where we can see them!”

Before Nicholas could turn around, he was tackled to the ground by an unknown man.

“Get off of me!” he screams in agony.

Nicholas, unable to lift his head to see ahead of him, hears more footsteps.

An army of footsteps come from several positions in the kitchen. Doors swing open, wooden chairs are toppled over. Bright flashlights illuminate his face. Nicholas feels his breath weaken and starts heaving.

“Alright officer, no need to suffocate him.” A voice says.

Nicholas feels a weight lift off his back and is finally able to lift his head.

Officers dressed in thick, dark-colored bulletproof vests, masks, weapons, and boots, surround the kitchen.

“Saint Nicholas, you are under arrest for trespassing, breaking and entering, animal abuse, and violating the labor code.”

Two officers appear beside him to bring him to his feet, and start to cuff his hands behind his back.

“These are preposterous claims!” Nicholas exclaims.

“Sir, anything you say may be used against you in court. You have the right to remain silent.”

“I am not a criminal. I am Santa Claus!”

Nicholas wiggles franticly in his cuffs.

“If you arrest me, millions of children will not get their Christmas presents. I need to finish my job. Can I speak to your superior? Who is responsible for placing these charges against me?”

A sinister silence comes.

The officers turn their faces away from the now red-faced Nicholas, towards a corner of the kitchen.

The pantry.

It opens with a creak and a quiet, cold breeze sweeps through the kitchen.

A trapped cry can be heard in the large pantry. Nicholas’s eyes cannot believe what he is seeing.

A mother, stepfather, and three kids.

The Alozie family are bound together, not with the joyful spirit of Christmas, but by dry, brown rope. Their mouths taped shut. Not a word from their lips, but their eyes do the talking. Desperation and fear reeks from the sweat that covers their heads.

Nicholas screams and tries to free himself from the restraint of the handcuffs, but the officers hold him back.

“I wouldn’t try that if I were you.”

A familiar voice sounds, but Nicholas cannot quite put a finger on it. The unknown figure’s boots make loud thuds on the floor as they walk closer to Nicholas. The other officer’s part themselves like the Red Sea and make way for them.

A cap shades her face in the low-lit kitchen, but Nicholas can make out her shiny, blonde hair.

“Cindy!”

She slowly lifts her head.

“Hello, Santa Claus.”

“Cindy Lou, what is the meaning of all of this?” Nicholas asks.

Little Cindy Lou Who from Whoville sports a Black jumpsuit and an unauthorized police badge. Her eyes are black with deceit and evil. A distant image from the small girl who loved Christmas.

“Cindy, please. Remember the day the Grinch stole Christmas? How painful that was for you and your town? Imagine the millions of children experiencing the same thing this Christmas right now. Is that what you want?” Nicholas pleads.

Cindy leans closer to Nicholas, “It’s not about what I want, Claus.”

“Are these officers even legitimate? Cindy Lou answer me! And why tie this poor family up on Christmas Eve?”

The eyes of the smallest Alozie child, Kechi, beg for freedom.

“Actually,” Cindy Lou checks her watch, “It’s Christmas Day! And it’s about what he gets.”

Nicholas smells a grisly scent, and immediately, his eyes open wide.

A masked figure appears from a clump of officers. He gently removes his mask and reveals his skin.

All green.

And teeth, all yellow with termites.

“I should’ve known better,” Nicholas whispers to himself.

“Merry Christmas, Santy Claus!”

Nicholas is enraged. Veins start to pop from his neck.

“Why so sad, Santy? What happened to the holly jolly fat man with a white beard that everyone knows and loves?”

“Let me go, now!”

“No, no, no, no, no can-do, Santy.”

Nicholas uses his large body to push the officers – if they even are real Canadian authorities – off him. They fall to the ground, but Nicholas is still surrounded by several angry officers ready to take him down.

Cindy waves her gloved finger, instructing the officers to pounce on Father Christmas. A struggle ensues, and Nicholas is forced to the ground again. He fights with all his will – yelling and kicking with the most power an almost 2,000-year-old man could.

“Stop resisting!” one officer demands.

“You need to comply, sir,” another one says.

“Punch his fat belly if you need to! Or, even better, kick his head!” Cindy commands.

Nicholas weakly lifts his head and his fearful eyes drift towards the vile, green-skinned monster beside Cindy.

He shows all his fifty-five crooked, revolting, teeth. A bad banana.

“Suspect has his hand on a weapon!” the monster shouts.

Nicholas furrows his bushy eyebrows in confusion. He thinks to himself, I do not have my hand on a-

A green Glock 17 appears between Nicholas’s eyes.

And it fires with a deafening rumble.

"Ho, ho, ho. Merry Christmas!" The Grinch hollers.