This story is by Maciej Pradziad and was part of our 2017 Winter Writing Contest. You can find all the writing contest stories here.
Would the stench of Mrs. Claus’s body go up through the snow? It would probably be easier to cut her up into pieces and throw them bit by bit into the fire, huh? No… No, no, no, no, no. There’s no need to resolve this issue with violence. I mean, she has no right to be yelling at me when she’s in charge of watching over the elves. It’s not my fault that ten of them went fucking missing. It’s okay. It’s going to be all okay. They’re going to come back and all will be swell again. I really need to blow off some steam.
I go up into my office and plop onto my cozy red chair. In front of me is my glorious set of monitors that cover up an entire wall. It’s truly a sight to see. Before starting my “relaxation ritual,” I always turn my head left and right to make sure that no one is there. As I’m about to begin, the monitors light up with a face that is bubbling with anger, ready to explode. The bald man penetrates with his crystal azul eyes, asserting his dominance over me.
The mysterious man screams, “Listen here you jolly, fat fuck! It’s taken me far too long to find you, and I will make you feel as helpless as I felt under your body. You left me with nothing but blood, pain, and hopelessness. It’s my turn to fuck you, Santy Claus, and your little entourage of fucktards!” Behind him were the ten missing elves from my shop, all tied up in little kiddie chairs, with duct tape over their mouths. As soon as they saw me they started crying tears of joy, screaming for and wanting help from their dear old Father.
I sat there in a state of complete and utter shock. How did he find me and my family? I sat there speechless until the mysterious man spoke again, about to break into tears. “Wow, you really don’t remember who I am, do you? What, you’ve had too many victims under your oversized belt to remember who I am? My name is Alastor. You used to call me Al when I saw you at the mall as a kid…”.
“I’m sure that we can work something out, alright? There’s no need in being rash. Just let the poor little elves go, and I will supply you with whatever it is you want,” I said in as calm of a voice as I could. It’s hard to be tranquil when the man that is the cause of your troubles with your “loving” wife is staring you in the eye chillingly with some of your children, bawling their eyes out, tied up behind him.
“You’re right, there is something we can work out. You have exactly an hour to make one of two fantastic choices! You can either expose yourself to the entire world and tell them that you are a sick, child-molesting piece of shit, or you can watch me as I tear your entourage limb from limb and make ornaments out of whatever the fuck is left. As a matter of fact, maybe I’ll just follow in your footsteps and strip them off of their will to live via their “naughty parts” before murdering them. Yeah… That sounds just perfect. Don’t even try to bullshit me either with ‘I can’t do it, I don’t have the technology.’ Fuck, you’re Santa. If you can make reindeer fly, I’m sure as all hell you can talk to the world and rid them of their innocence. Choose wisely, Santy. Merry Christmas!” screamed Al in an ecstatic voice and instantly disappeared from the monitors.
… How does someone even go about thinking about having to choose between his children and the rest that inhabit this big blue ball? A child’s innocence is what grants him or her the ridiculous amount of joy they have in their tiny bodies. Without it, the curtain opens to the shitshow that is the real world.
Not only that, but the suit I wear is the symbol of love and the preservation of purity. The colors red and white are what most excites a child every winter and their incorruptibility is what makes my job worth doing. If I expose this lie to the world, no one would be able to smile and no child in the world would be able to trust a single soul ever again. This is the unfortunate case of Al. If only he knew that it wasn’t Santa Claus who touched him, it was the man underneath the suit.
Before I had enough time to even create another thought, the monitors lit up with Al’s cold, deadly stare piercing through my soul, with the poor, helpless elves behind him trying to wriggle themselves free from their restraints. Al spoke once again, “Dear old Santy Claus, how wonderful it is to see you again! So, have you made your choice yet? Either way, having an elf’s head on my knob first and then right on top of my Christmas tree or passing by a child on the street and seeing the lost twinkle in their eyes will bring me immense comfort in knowing that I have finally fucked you over. What will it be, huh?”
I sat there, saying in a quiet defeated whisper, “Just… Just kill them off already…”.
As soon as I uttered those words, the elves started to thrash back and forth in their colored kiddie chairs, crying out for me, God, or anyone else that would take them away from this madness.
“I’m sorry, I couldn’t quite hear you. What was it exactly that you wanted me to do?” said Al victoriously.
“Just fucking kill them already!” I screamed back and before I knew it, he did… But not without having fun first. Before I knew it, I saw the light in their eyes dim as they laid in their set position, numb, not fighting at all. After he was done with them, slowly their limbs started to come out with such force and precision. It was as if he were doing them the favor… When he was done, he, covered in their blood, laughed maniacally, saying, “Now we see how important the innocence of children all around the world truly is to you. Gee, I wonder why,” he said sarcastically before disappearing from the monitors.
I sat there, relieved that it was finally over. I wasn’t too worried. Mrs. Claus will forget about the missing elves by next week and I’ll just clone a new batch. There’s no point in worrying. I can finally just blow off some steam and start my “relaxation ritual.”
I turned my head left and right once, making sure that no one could interrupt me again. I took off my well-known hat and threw my red and white jacket over to the side. I turned on the monitors to their proper channel, showing me little boys and girls from all around the world as they slept peacefully in their beds. I goggled at the tiny bodies, dropping my pants and thinking about what a piece of ass Al really was. After all, it wasn’t Santa Claus who touched him, it was the man underneath the suit.