Well I wanted to do a Christmas-related story but it turns out I don't find Christmas very inspiring :P The entire story is a vehicle for the sugarplum joke in the second paragraph. Hopefully you at least get a chuckle here and there.

Back next week with something with a little more substance, I hope!

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The Millers Are Atheists

Santa Claus waits until the sleigh comes to a full and complete stop before desledding. He hops onto the roof of the Miller household lightly, silently. Surprising given the enormity of his bulk. The man in red puts a hand on Dasher's neck to settle him down. They are creatures built to move and always eager to get on to the next house. Santa takes a quick look around; many of the houses in the neighbourhood have Christmas lights, although not so many as in years past. The Millers have a tasteful string of red and blue LED bulbs running along the eavestroughs on three sides of their house and Santa spotted a lovely Christmas wreath on their front door as the reindeer brought him in for a landing. He approves of the decor. He's a little uncomfortable with the people who go overboard and fill their yards with lights and statues and speakers blaring Christmas carols. Oh, he definitely appreciates Christmas cheer but sometimes it seems as though people were more interested in engaging in colourful arms races with their neighbours than actually celebrating Christmas. And with these troubling reports about global warming over the past few years, Santa was going to have to give serious thought to classifying ostentatious light displays as Naughty. He sighs; times were certainly changing.

The chimney is far, far too small for someone of his girth to slip down but it isn't a problem for Santa. He just needs to whistle the little tune the elves had taught him and trust. When he'd first accepted this gig, the elves had tried to explain it all to him. How the reindeer can fly, why he will live to be many hundreds of years old, how he can fit down chimneys and most mind-bogglingly of all: how he can visit every (non-Naughty) child on Earth in a few short hours. It had to do with quantum physics, something about a many-worlds interpretation and sugarplums in superposition. Honestly, it'd all sailed over his jolly, chubby head and he'd long since stopped worrying about it. He trusts the elves; they know what they're doing. Before making his entrance, Santa pulls out his red-and-green PDA and uses the candy cane shaped stylus to call up the entry for the Miller household. The PDA is a marvelous improvement over the bulky scrolls and quill pens he used to haul around. The elves made an excellent call when they convinced him to invest in all those tech companies in the '60s and '70s. He scrolls through the list of presents they've alloted for the Millers, checks it twice and then goes over the contents of his sack. They're wrapped but he just needs to pass the PDA over them and the built-in reader checks the RFID tags embedded in the wrapping paper against the inventory database on the portable computer. Everything is in order; it's been decades since they've made an error but quality control and customer service are very important to Santa. Finally, he brings up the time tracking program and clicks the button indicating he's entering the house. The Statistical Elves like to track data on the mean time he spends in each house, and a number of other variables as well. He frankly finds it a bit of a bore, particularly all the questions they're asking him to fill out this year.

He circumnavigates the chimney, brushing snow off of it. Then, putting aside thoughts of his relative size versus its, he whistles. There is a whoosh of air and his ample stomach lurches like he's on one of the roller-coasters he loves to ride in the off season, and then he's standing in the Miller's living room.

Santa makes a quick survey of the interior. There are Christmas decorations, to be sure, but they smack of the absence of the participation of children. On the Miller's coffee table is an ornate and very fragile looking glass snowman. Their tree is a plastic one (which he notes in the PDA). It's covered in several strings of blue and silver tinsel and has clear glass ball ornaments, all evenly distributed over around the tree. It's very lovely, even elegant, but not at all playful. He doubts the hands of children were involved in decorating the tree. White star on top, not an angel, also recorded for the elves. He walks to the tree, hefting his sack. As he walks, he glances into the dining room. It doesn't appear as though they've left any goodies; he's a little disappointed. While Santa enjoys his milk and cookies, the reindeer will really miss getting carrots. Santa kneels down and is about to dole out presents when he hears a voice behind him.

"You can stop right there, fat man." It's said quietly, almost a whisper, but a harsh one.

Santa spins around to see Mr. and Mrs. Miller standing there. They're both wearing robes - Mr. Miller's is full-length, blue and heavy. Mrs. Miller is wearing something satiny that falls to mid-thigh. Santa is dumbfounded for a moment. This sort of thing only happens once in several decades.

"Motion detector in the chimney. We had it installed last January."

"But, well, I, I come in peace." He can keep a global operation running, navigate around the planet on a sleigh, but he hasn't had much practice with public speaking. Your people skills deteriorate a bit. "I'm here with gifts for you." He holds up his sack as evidence.

"Oh we know why you're here."

Mr. Miller has done all of the talking so far but Mrs. Miller pipes up, "And we don't want what you're selling."

Santa recalls from their file that their names are Glenn and Gloria.

"Selling? I'm not selling anything. Gloria, I'm Santa Claus. Your children have been way more nice than naughty this year. I've got the most wonderful toy train for Tommy and -" Santa reaches into his sack for the box with Tommy's train, which an elf spent several hours crafting to perfection.

Glen Miller points at the tree behind Santa. "We got Tommy a train set. We don't need you barging in here, trying to out-parent us."

All the presents under the tree are tastefully wrapped to match its tinsel.

"Out-parent you? But I've been doing this centuries now. I'm not trying to step on any toes."

Mr. Miller begins to raise his voice, "Aren't you? The presents you brought last year? The teddy bears, the intricately detailed dolls, the ornate copy of the Little Prince? We both work. We have to Christmas shop at Walmart after work and still make it home in time to make supper. We can't compete with you."

Gloria jabs an accusing finger at him. "Last year it was Santa this, Santa that, until March. And then the Easter Bunny comes along with her nine different kinds of chocolate."

"Well the Easter Bunny and I aren't affiliated. You can't blame me for - and it isn't a competition. Santa doesn't approve of commercialization."

Glenn snorts. "Oh no, no commercialization at all. Look at you in your red and white costume. You stole that look from Coke."

Santa straightens his toque and stammers, "Well, I, I if you must know I prefer the more traditional robes. I really do. After they started using that look in all their advertising no took me seriously unless I looked like Coke's image." He sighs unhappily and continues, "The elves told me I should have bought out the Coke company when they were still small."

Gloria looks up at her husband, "Why are we even talking to him? We're atheists now. I didn't even want to do Christmas this year."

"Mommy, why are you yelling at Santa?"

All three of the adults look down to see the Miller's youngest child, Lucy, looking up at them all. She's wearing Pokémon pyjamas.

Both parents say, at the same time, "Lucy, go back to bed!"

"It's Santa!"

"Hi Lucy. Your parents and I are talking. But I got your letter and I think you'll like the doll I brought." Santa holds up Lucy's gift, wrapped in red with green ribbon and a bow. Little Lucy looks back and forth between the most important authority figures in her life.

"Lucy, honey," says her father, "Go to bed. I'll count to three."

Lucy glances at Santa and he gives her a wink. "Go on Lucy, it's naughty to disobey your parents."

"May I get a glass of water?"

Gloria Miller shoos her daughter away, "Not now, honey." The little girl disappears. She turns back towards Santa.

"How dare you tell my daughter what's naughty or what's...nice. Where the hell do you get off, thinking you can decide what's good or bad behaviour for our children? It's not up to you to reward or punish our children."

Mr. Miller puts his arm around his wife's shoulders.

"Listen, Santa. I don't want to make this into a big thing. The whole Santa Claus concept worked great when we thought you were fake. We could tell our kids that they had to behave to get presents. It was fine we were controlling the present supply."

"So...when did you figure out I was real?"

"The toy tank you gave Tommy last year. We were talking about it later and realized neither of us had bought it. And it didn't say 'Made in China' on the bottom."

This usually isn't a problem for Santa. Most people are so busy, so stressed out around Christmas that they don't notice an extra present under the tree. One parent will assume the other bought it and before they remember to inquire, the thought has been swept away by the tumult of holiday business.

Mrs. Miller adds, "And we don't approve of violent toys for our children." How did the elves miss that one?

No one says anything for a moment and then, "Are you staring at my wife's chest?"

Santa looks up, flushing a less jolly shade of pink. Mrs. Miller pulls her gown tightly around her. His eyes had been wandering around the room, trying not to make eye contact with the Millers. And then he just sort of locked onto her midsection, where her gown had fallen open to reveal a silk, low-cut thing underneath. He may be Father Christmas but in a lot of ways, Santa is only human.

"I think maybe it's time for you to leave."

Mr. Miller takes a step forward and Santa takes a step backwards, colliding with the Millers' tree. Tree and man in red all go down and from a tangle of pine-scented plastic branches and tinsel Santa sees the glass star shatter on the hardwood floor.

---

Santa sighs again, sitting in his sleigh. His eight reindeer paw and dig at the snow on the Miller's roof, eager to get going. He needs a moment or two to compose himself. A few deep breaths and he's about ready to go on to the next house. He checks his PDA. The McKenzies. Three children. All of them asked for books. He gives the reins a shake. The bells jingle and all eight reindeer break into a trot, which turns into a gallop. Before they reach the edge of the roof and head into the air, all eight reindeer lift their tails and each leave a steaming pile on the Millers' roof. Santa smiles and relaxes a bit. His reindeer always look out for him.

3 responses to "Week #3 - FFF Christmas Special! "

ginny! wrote: Monday, 24 Dec 2007 10:00 heee! I especially liked the explanation with quantum physics, interdimensions, and sugarplums. ^_^

Debs wrote: Tuesday, 25 Dec 2007 19:57 I like the steaming pile!

Erinn (Ms. L.) wrote: Monday, 31 Dec 2007 00:40 "Surprising giving the enormity of his bulk." : Might be the worst sentence you've ever written. Just sayin'. The title pleased me though, so you're doing alright there. Please write better stories in the future. It would mean a lot to me.

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