12-05-1012   2 comments

As young children our  parents made every attempt to make Christmas memorable for my sister and me. When my sister was very young and  I was almost six I still firmly believed the tales of Santa and his elves and all that good stuff.  But in the back of my young mind I secretly was beginning to have doubts.  A lot of what I was being told by the family wasn’t what I was hearing on the street (at school). My friends had almost convinced me that Santa was BS and that my parents were actually the gift givers.

My folks apparently began to suspect I was wavering and that their propaganda was falling on deaf ears. In a conspiracy involving my mother’s sister, Anna Mae, they decided drastic action was needed. I’d been acting out a bit and being a little disrespectful so it was time for Santa to straighten me out.

It was about a week before Christmas and we were visiting at my grandparents home and as usual I was a being a huge pain in the ass like most six year olds. It was just after dark and I was walking through the house to the kitchen. As I passed the window in the hall I glanced over and almost crapped my pants. Santa was standing outside and looking right at me and smiling. I ran upstairs and hid under the bed and refused to come out until the coast was clear. My parents let me know in no uncertain terms that Santa was looking for those children who weren’t being good.

I cleaned up my act fast and became their little angel again. I have to admit I was a little shaky after dark and afraid to look out the windows for quite a while. Santa the terrorist had accomplished his mission. I saw him on two or three other occasions during the next two years, once at our home, and again in the cellar of my grandparents house but unfortunately I was already a confirmed non-believer.  I went along with the charade for my sister’s sake and to avoid a smack on the ass if I told her the truth.  By then I knew my parents were the ones I needed to suck up to and I did it in grand fashion.

Many years later while I was digging through a trunk in my aunts bedroom I discovered where Santa had been hiding. His retirement consisted of being hidden under a pile of sheets and pillow cases in that old trunk. My aunt laughed like crazy when I confronted her and we both enjoyed the moment very much.

What I never told her or my parents was the lingering collateral damage from their actions. To this day during the Christmas season I’m careful in dark rooms and try never to look out the windows. In the mall or in stores where Santa is holding court, I stay the hell away. That guy still scares the bejesus out of me.

Posted December 6, 2012 by Every Useless Thing in Humor, Just Saying Again

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2 responses to “12-05-1012

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  1. A fear of Santa? That’s a new one! Great story, I enjoyed reading it 🙂


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