THE TRUTH ABOUT SANTA
Charlie was a young boy when he learned the truth about Santa. He waited up one Christmas Eve, fell asleep behind the couch in the living room, and awoke to a horrible scene.
He heard loud screams coming from Mommy and Daddy’s room so he got up and walked down the hall. Daddy was lying still on the bed with what appeared to be a knife in his chest. And Santa was on top of Mommy beating her about the face with a small black object that looked like a ball peen hammer. The thing that Charlie remembered most through the years was that Santa’s pants were down and Mommy’s face was all cut and bloody.
Charlie hadn’t known that Santa was really a homicidal maniac who not only delivered presents to kids all over the world, but he also delivered death sentences to the adults. And he certainly didn’t know that the title of Santa was passed down through the generations, and he would eventually be named the next Santa.
Of course he accepted to become the next Santa. The alternative he knew would not have been pleasant. They sent him a videotape of one of the chosen that had refused. It was not a pretty sight.
Well, it’s almost Christmastime again, Charlie thinks as he walks down a hall into a room with a hidden compartment in the wall. He pushes a button and the compartment opens revealing various guns, knives, and torture equipment. Hanging on a costume dummy behind glass like a Batman suit is the Santa uniform. Charlie reaches out and touches the head of a shiny, razor sharp axe. A smile rips across his face and he mutters something under his breath:
“It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas.”
