“…so you see, we need a new Santa, and you just so happen to be perfect. Again, I’m sorry for giving you such a fright earlier, but you can understand why I might be a bit desperate. So how about it–would you help us out, and be our next Santa Claus? Stan Claus maybe? It all kind of depends on you, at the end of the day,” Timmy said. He had brought Stan into Santa’s house–the more G-rated part at least–helped him out of the bag, and after giving him a cup of calming tea–since he wouldn’t stop screaming about being kidnapped, Stan had finally calmed down and listened to what the strange imp (or elf, as it claimed to be, allegedly) had to say.
To say that the story was hard to believe was an understatement. It was simply impossible. Santa actually exists? He would have never believed it in a million years. He had his own children weaned off the myth from a young age, making sure they properly understood the true meaning of Christmas and the birth of Christ. They decorated a tree of course, but gift giving was minimal, and generally restricted to religious presents or practical gifts that wouldn’t entice greed or vanity. No, this was madness, and he wasn’t about to have any part in it.
“No, I won’t do this. I refuse,” Stan said. “All this shit does is inspire greed in children, when we should be doing the exact opposite. Maybe a few lean Christmases is exactly what the world needs.” He crossed his arms over his gut with a harumph, “Now take me home, before my wife wakes up and discovers I’ve gone missing. Her heart is weak, and it would probably kill her.”
That was not the answer Timmy had been looking for, and it wasn’t the answer he planned on getting. Still…the rules were rules. You couldn’t force someone to become Santa, they had to agree to it, and they couldn’t do so under duress or the control of another. That said, the rules were…flexible, to some extent. What Timmy needed was more information–about Stan, about what made him tick, about how he could entice him to take the job. It was obvious the old man wouldn’t do it out of the goodness of his heart. What that left then, was an appeal to vices. Power? Authority? Eternal life? He didn’t seem very temptable. Still, the light wouldn’t have chosen him if there hadn’t been some glimmer in him that would lead him to consider taking on the post. At least Timmy had had the foresight of adding a little extra something to the tea. With a snap of his fingers, Stan suddenly slumped in the chair–completely asleep, the cup and saucer slipping from his hand and shattering on the floor. A perfect hypnotic trance–just enough to figure out what might make this guy tick.
Over the next few hours, Timmy got to know Stan better–much better. They had a long ranging conversation, and uncovered exactly what Timmy needed to know, that what really drove Stan, more than anything, was his belief in divine punishment, and in his mind–everyone was guilty–well, everyone except him. There was also, deep deep down, so deep that Stan barely even knew it was there, a massive reservoir of kinky, homosexual desire. Timmy had thought the light had guided him to that house to push back against the elves…but maybe it really had delivered exactly the Santa they were looking for. He slowly brought Stan out from under his trance, the older man completely unaware of the fact that he’d been out for many hours. He got up to leave, but Timmy stopped him.
“It isn’t a chance many people get, you know, to be an…an arbiter of justice. To be able to finally give everyone what they deserve. I’m surprised that doesn’t appeal to you.”
Stan’s eyes were a bit confused–in his heart he knew that shouldn’t be so attractive, and yet…and yet, he did like the idea, perhaps more than he’d even expected to. “No, the only person who can deliver that justice is God.”
“Well, wouldn’t you say God has been slacking off a bit?”
“I mean…he works in mysterious ways, but…there’s just so much filth out there.”
“Well, I’m offering you a chance to do something about that. Maybe…maybe this is God, offering you the chance to help him in his work.”
Stan narrowed his eyes, still suspicious. Suddenly, this damn elf was making almost too much sense.
“Look, consider it a trial run. If it just…feels wrong? Then after this Christmas, call it good, and no one will know different. But I think the position might grow on you, once you see what we’ve been working on. Us elves? We know. We know the world’s a shit show, but we’ve been needing a proper Santa to help us. One who isn’t so easily convinced to put someone on the nice list, you know what I mean?”
I…I think I do.”
“Well what do you say–be Santa for a year?”
He couldn’t believe he was actually considering it, that he really wanted this. But hey, why not, right? The elf did have some good points, after all. “I…I still don’t trust you, but fine. I’ll help.”
“Excellent!” Timmy said, and summoned a contract and pen from the air. “A one Christmas contract of service.”
Stan read the contract over carefully, and saw no mention of his eternal soul. He reluctantly signed it, and when he did, a strange jolt of energy shot through him. He didn’t look different really, but he felt…he felt amazing. Like he was young again. Nothing hurt, and that sudden euphoria was enough to make him break out a rather uncharacteristic belly laugh, which he cut off, face red with embarrassment.
“There are a few, side effects–sorry,” Timmy said, “Now though, we need to get you trained! Christmas is in just a few days, and I bet you’ve never even driven a sleigh before…although it’s been a long night, why don’t you sleep for a while, and we can get started once you’re better rested?”
Stan agreed that might be for the best, and Timmy led him into the master bedroom. Stan put up a bit of a fight when he saw the rubber sheets and sling, but another snap of the fingers, and he was out again. Timmy laid him down, and got to work. He didn’t want to reeducate him, really. No, the dominoes were already set up in Stan’s mind, and they’d fall all on their own. Still, he needed to make sure he wouldn’t freak out at the sight of the elves’ “toys”, or rudolph’s bright red cock head. Still, while it was going to be a lot of work, Timmy knew Stan was going to be a great Santa, once he learned a bit more about himself in the process.
Bracken's Corner 