12-20-2018, 07:50 AM
Santa was down in the dumps. Not literally, because Santa would never, ever been seen there, Santa was a VERY hygienic individual. No, Santa wasn’t very happy… he wasn’t very happy AT ALL. 2018 hadn’t been a good year for the ‘C’ man.
It had started with the Easter Bunny winning the ‘Kids Award’ for greatest achievement, like prancing around a garden leaving eggs in secret places was more impressive than getting around the ENTIRE world in one night. As summer had rolled around, Mrs. Claus had run off with the Tooth Fairy, and filed for divorce, beginning what would be a lengthy, and very expensive custody battle for the reindeers. And then just as the Christmas preparations had ramped up to a crescendo, his number one elf, Mojo, had been struck down with a severe case of unELFiness (Yeah I went there), which was a disease on a par with human ‘man flu’ so you can imagine how bad that was, and had sidelined him for the holidays. What that meant was Santa had to get in some Christmas workers, who didn’t know the job like his elves did.
So yeah, Santa wasn’t very happy. He wasn’t very happy AT ALL… just in case you didn’t get the emphasis the first time. Rudolph had noticed this, because although people focused on the red nose and how great it was for leading the sleigh, it also was a high powered ‘depression’ detector, and he was concerned
“Santa?” Because of course Rudolph could talk… this is a flying reindeer with a magic nose after all. Santa peers from his pit of depression for just a moment to acknowledge Rudolph, before pulling the sheets up over his head again. Oh yeah, Santa’s in bed still. Lazy Santa.
“You OK homie?” Rudolph says, obviously concerned. Santa sits up in bed and sighs, barely flinching at the fact Rudolph seemed to have developed a liking to street speak
“No Rudy…” It was Santa’s pet name… Rudolph had always been his favorite but don’t tell Dasher. “This year has been awful, but usually no matter how bad it got and whatever the year brought, I always had December the 25th and being able to put all those smiles on children’s faces.”
“You still have that… the smiles I mean” says Rudolph, not quite believing what he is hearing
“No I don’t Rudy, not now. Not in the 21st Century”
“What do you mean?” Rudolph replies, sitting on the bed
“Children don’t ‘believe’ any more Rudy. All they care about are the presents, not where they come from or the hard work that goes into Christmas. They are SOOOO materialistic these days. I blame Justin Bieber and his ‘Beliebers’”
Rudolph shakes his antlers in disgust “I can see that, but you’re wrong, people still believe. I believe in you big man.”
Santa rubs his antlers, Rudolph liked it when he did that and found it strangely erotic. “Yeah, well maybe that’s not enough anymore Rudy. Maybe being Santa Claus isn’t enough for ME anymore”
Rudolph gasps, that was a shocking statement for the Big ‘C’ to make. “Come on man, it’s not that bad. Maybe kids do stop believing a little younger than they used to. Perhaps people do put up their Christmas decorations in October and dilute the entire holiday. But there are still those that hold the tradition dear and keep your legend alive. Because you are a legend… lots more than the bunny… I hate that bunny.”
“I guess” Santa says, not filling Rudolph with confidence, causing him to reply quite aggressively
“And don’t forget, there are always people in a lot worse situation than you.”
“Really? Name three?”
Rudolph looks a little taken aback by the question, and certainly hadn’t expected it. But he answers anyway, because he’s an intelligent, magical reindeer “I can name 323 million… Americans. They have Donald Trump as President.”
Santa nods his head “Yeah, that’s a fair comment… wonder if they would have elected him if they’d known he was an alien from Tatooine?”
Rudolph smugly continues “There you go. And what about Manchester United fans? They still believe they are the biggest team in Manchester, when they are not even the biggest team in Manchester.”
Santa concedes that point as well. “Also very true”
“And what about me?” Rudolph was on a roll and wasn’t letting this go
“You?” Santa replies with surprise. He always believed Rudolph was the happiest of his reindeer
“Yeah me, every single year Prancer goes raging Homo and tries to hump me at every opportunity. I’m telling you now, he’s getting closer and closer and if he ever invades my dirt hole, I’m never getting in the front of that line leading the sleigh again.”
“That is a problem… maybe I’ll just chop his dick off” Santa says, nodding his head in agreement
“Maybe you should” says Rudolph as instinctively covers his backside with his hooves… though how he actually managed to do that I have no clue. Use your imagination.
Santa sighs “No Rudy, it’s no good. I need something else. I need something else that will put smiles on faces. Just for once, I need to do something at Christmas that isn’t just getting soot in my beard and eating too many mince pies than is healthy.”
Rudolph had never seen Santa this bad, even when his wife left him. Rudolph had actually been glad of that as she was a bitch and had mistreated him, and done unspeakable things with her rolling pin. What was the obsession with his rear orifice anyway?
“Why don’t you watch some TV, and I’ll bring you a glass of whiskey… that will help”
Santa nods, as Rudolph turns on the TV. Rudolph then looks back over his shoulder and heads out the room, Santa turning his attention to the screen. On the screen is somebody called Jonathan Knots, and he is speaking over some kind of vignette, but Santa isn’t looking at what’s going on in the foreground, and is actually looking beyond that, at the people in the background, HUGE smiles on their faces. Rudolph comes back into the room carrying the whiskey (again, I don’t know how just run with it) just as Santa sits up in bed.
“Santa?” Rudolph asks quizzically
Santa replies excitedly “Rudy I know what I have to do”
“You do?” Rudolph responds, obviously confused
Santa pauses, for the first time a huge smile forming on his face as he replies “I know how to put smiles on people’s faces. I need to enter the End of Year Battle Royal…”
Rudolph looks at Santa, and then at the screen. WRESTLING!!!! He drops the glass, which shatters on the wooden floor, as the scene fades.
*************************************
“Is it on yet?”
The screen moves up and down as Rudolph, the other side of the portable camera that Santa normally uses for his portable North Pole messages, acknowledges he is ready. Santa had wanted one of the elves to film this message but they were still trying to ensure that all the presents were made, and wrapped before Christmas Eve. It was going to cost Santa a fortune in overtime, but thankfully he had a deal with the Inland Revenue and it was all deductible… he’d only had to grass on Jack Frost’s shady dealings to get a very generous offer.
Santa had spent the last few days watching every bit of footage he could find, making sure he knew everything about Supreme Championship Wrestling, in preparation for his participation in the Battle Royal. He’d even promised not to use the old ‘Claus Magic’ in order to win. No, he was entering for the two things he wanted more than anything else. Belief, and those missing smiles… and he was going to get them. But right now, he had perhaps just a little too much Dutch courage and was suitably steaming. How else do you think he ever got through Christmas Eve and all that Sherry if he couldn’t handle his liquor?
“In just a few days’ time, I will be paying each and every one of you a visit. Whether you have a chimney or not, I will find a way to get into your house and deliver you all the presents that you deserve due to your actions over the course of the year, and whether you were on my naughty, or nice list. People like Ace Marshall, they will get nothing, is there a naughtier individual alive? Whereas people like Selena Frost… now that I have ensured she is of no relation to that ass Jack, will get everything she wants and more. That’s how it works isn’t it, in this profession that they called ‘wrestling’. You work hard, and you benefit, you cut corners and cheat, you receive nothing?”
He lifts a finger and wags it at the camera, looking at his finger with almost surprise that it was doing that, confusion etched on his features
“No children that is the way it is supposed to work, but it doesn’t. There are always those like Syren, who take, take, take and give nothing back, yet still deserve the rewards. There will always be people like Sienna Swann, who calls herself an angel, and yet, having met true ‘Angel’s’ I can assure you she is nothing of the sort. These people bring nothing but frowns on the foreheads of those that deserve better, whereas the true beacons are ignored. Well SCW guess what? I’m here to do something about that. Ho Ho Ho.”
He grins, and strokes his beard.
“But enough about Cassidy Carter…”
He pauses, a twinkle flashing in his right eye. He shifts in his comfy chair and almost falls off it, chuckling to himself as Rudolph tuts from behind the camera
“Because nowadays giving Owen Cruze a copy of the KABLAMasutra will put a smile on his face for so long, but it won’t last. Magically ensuring Marie Jones got a World title shot, which I might add was the ONLY thing on her Christmas List, won’t mean anything once she loses. Giving the SCW Peyton Rice to look at…”
He stares wistfully over at a Peyton Rice poster which hangs on the chimney breast… yes the word breast was used on purpose.
“Well, Peyton is the Christmas Miracle, but that is beside the point. For every miracle there is a Ravyn, a Josh Hudson, or a Blake Mason… sorry Billy, you still haven’t done enough to flip over to the ‘nice’ list just yet, good try though. These people who want to piss all over… can I say piss Rudolph?”
He looks round the camera and if we could see Rudolph we’d know he was doing a reindeer shrug, whatever that is.
“Meh, done it twice now anyways, they want to kill the Christmas Spirit with whatever liquid they chose. Well boys and girls… not on my watch, and not this year.”
He holds up his drink, leaning forwards and ‘clinking’ it against the lens, a little too hard for Rudolph’s liking.
“This year is going to be different. This year I’m going to put a smile on EVERYONES faces…”
Another twinkle, because why not?
“For this End of Year Special, Santa Claus is coming to town and yes… if you’ve been bad, you HAD better watch out.
Merry Christmas… ya filthy animals.”
Rudolph cuts the camera, and steps from behind it, his front limbs crossed and on his hind legs
Rudolph: You sure about this?
Santa gets to his feet, and staggers a little having gotten up a little too quickly. He then falls backwards and into the Christmas tree, and is left laid in amongst the tinsel and baubles, having amazingly not spilt a single drop of whiskey
"Abso-fucking-lutely"
Scene fades
It had started with the Easter Bunny winning the ‘Kids Award’ for greatest achievement, like prancing around a garden leaving eggs in secret places was more impressive than getting around the ENTIRE world in one night. As summer had rolled around, Mrs. Claus had run off with the Tooth Fairy, and filed for divorce, beginning what would be a lengthy, and very expensive custody battle for the reindeers. And then just as the Christmas preparations had ramped up to a crescendo, his number one elf, Mojo, had been struck down with a severe case of unELFiness (Yeah I went there), which was a disease on a par with human ‘man flu’ so you can imagine how bad that was, and had sidelined him for the holidays. What that meant was Santa had to get in some Christmas workers, who didn’t know the job like his elves did.
So yeah, Santa wasn’t very happy. He wasn’t very happy AT ALL… just in case you didn’t get the emphasis the first time. Rudolph had noticed this, because although people focused on the red nose and how great it was for leading the sleigh, it also was a high powered ‘depression’ detector, and he was concerned
“Santa?” Because of course Rudolph could talk… this is a flying reindeer with a magic nose after all. Santa peers from his pit of depression for just a moment to acknowledge Rudolph, before pulling the sheets up over his head again. Oh yeah, Santa’s in bed still. Lazy Santa.
“You OK homie?” Rudolph says, obviously concerned. Santa sits up in bed and sighs, barely flinching at the fact Rudolph seemed to have developed a liking to street speak
“No Rudy…” It was Santa’s pet name… Rudolph had always been his favorite but don’t tell Dasher. “This year has been awful, but usually no matter how bad it got and whatever the year brought, I always had December the 25th and being able to put all those smiles on children’s faces.”
“You still have that… the smiles I mean” says Rudolph, not quite believing what he is hearing
“No I don’t Rudy, not now. Not in the 21st Century”
“What do you mean?” Rudolph replies, sitting on the bed
“Children don’t ‘believe’ any more Rudy. All they care about are the presents, not where they come from or the hard work that goes into Christmas. They are SOOOO materialistic these days. I blame Justin Bieber and his ‘Beliebers’”
Rudolph shakes his antlers in disgust “I can see that, but you’re wrong, people still believe. I believe in you big man.”
Santa rubs his antlers, Rudolph liked it when he did that and found it strangely erotic. “Yeah, well maybe that’s not enough anymore Rudy. Maybe being Santa Claus isn’t enough for ME anymore”
Rudolph gasps, that was a shocking statement for the Big ‘C’ to make. “Come on man, it’s not that bad. Maybe kids do stop believing a little younger than they used to. Perhaps people do put up their Christmas decorations in October and dilute the entire holiday. But there are still those that hold the tradition dear and keep your legend alive. Because you are a legend… lots more than the bunny… I hate that bunny.”
“I guess” Santa says, not filling Rudolph with confidence, causing him to reply quite aggressively
“And don’t forget, there are always people in a lot worse situation than you.”
“Really? Name three?”
Rudolph looks a little taken aback by the question, and certainly hadn’t expected it. But he answers anyway, because he’s an intelligent, magical reindeer “I can name 323 million… Americans. They have Donald Trump as President.”
Santa nods his head “Yeah, that’s a fair comment… wonder if they would have elected him if they’d known he was an alien from Tatooine?”
Rudolph smugly continues “There you go. And what about Manchester United fans? They still believe they are the biggest team in Manchester, when they are not even the biggest team in Manchester.”
Santa concedes that point as well. “Also very true”
“And what about me?” Rudolph was on a roll and wasn’t letting this go
“You?” Santa replies with surprise. He always believed Rudolph was the happiest of his reindeer
“Yeah me, every single year Prancer goes raging Homo and tries to hump me at every opportunity. I’m telling you now, he’s getting closer and closer and if he ever invades my dirt hole, I’m never getting in the front of that line leading the sleigh again.”
“That is a problem… maybe I’ll just chop his dick off” Santa says, nodding his head in agreement
“Maybe you should” says Rudolph as instinctively covers his backside with his hooves… though how he actually managed to do that I have no clue. Use your imagination.
Santa sighs “No Rudy, it’s no good. I need something else. I need something else that will put smiles on faces. Just for once, I need to do something at Christmas that isn’t just getting soot in my beard and eating too many mince pies than is healthy.”
Rudolph had never seen Santa this bad, even when his wife left him. Rudolph had actually been glad of that as she was a bitch and had mistreated him, and done unspeakable things with her rolling pin. What was the obsession with his rear orifice anyway?
“Why don’t you watch some TV, and I’ll bring you a glass of whiskey… that will help”
Santa nods, as Rudolph turns on the TV. Rudolph then looks back over his shoulder and heads out the room, Santa turning his attention to the screen. On the screen is somebody called Jonathan Knots, and he is speaking over some kind of vignette, but Santa isn’t looking at what’s going on in the foreground, and is actually looking beyond that, at the people in the background, HUGE smiles on their faces. Rudolph comes back into the room carrying the whiskey (again, I don’t know how just run with it) just as Santa sits up in bed.
“Santa?” Rudolph asks quizzically
Santa replies excitedly “Rudy I know what I have to do”
“You do?” Rudolph responds, obviously confused
Santa pauses, for the first time a huge smile forming on his face as he replies “I know how to put smiles on people’s faces. I need to enter the End of Year Battle Royal…”
Rudolph looks at Santa, and then at the screen. WRESTLING!!!! He drops the glass, which shatters on the wooden floor, as the scene fades.
*************************************
“Is it on yet?”
The screen moves up and down as Rudolph, the other side of the portable camera that Santa normally uses for his portable North Pole messages, acknowledges he is ready. Santa had wanted one of the elves to film this message but they were still trying to ensure that all the presents were made, and wrapped before Christmas Eve. It was going to cost Santa a fortune in overtime, but thankfully he had a deal with the Inland Revenue and it was all deductible… he’d only had to grass on Jack Frost’s shady dealings to get a very generous offer.
Santa had spent the last few days watching every bit of footage he could find, making sure he knew everything about Supreme Championship Wrestling, in preparation for his participation in the Battle Royal. He’d even promised not to use the old ‘Claus Magic’ in order to win. No, he was entering for the two things he wanted more than anything else. Belief, and those missing smiles… and he was going to get them. But right now, he had perhaps just a little too much Dutch courage and was suitably steaming. How else do you think he ever got through Christmas Eve and all that Sherry if he couldn’t handle his liquor?
“In just a few days’ time, I will be paying each and every one of you a visit. Whether you have a chimney or not, I will find a way to get into your house and deliver you all the presents that you deserve due to your actions over the course of the year, and whether you were on my naughty, or nice list. People like Ace Marshall, they will get nothing, is there a naughtier individual alive? Whereas people like Selena Frost… now that I have ensured she is of no relation to that ass Jack, will get everything she wants and more. That’s how it works isn’t it, in this profession that they called ‘wrestling’. You work hard, and you benefit, you cut corners and cheat, you receive nothing?”
He lifts a finger and wags it at the camera, looking at his finger with almost surprise that it was doing that, confusion etched on his features
“No children that is the way it is supposed to work, but it doesn’t. There are always those like Syren, who take, take, take and give nothing back, yet still deserve the rewards. There will always be people like Sienna Swann, who calls herself an angel, and yet, having met true ‘Angel’s’ I can assure you she is nothing of the sort. These people bring nothing but frowns on the foreheads of those that deserve better, whereas the true beacons are ignored. Well SCW guess what? I’m here to do something about that. Ho Ho Ho.”
He grins, and strokes his beard.
“But enough about Cassidy Carter…”
He pauses, a twinkle flashing in his right eye. He shifts in his comfy chair and almost falls off it, chuckling to himself as Rudolph tuts from behind the camera
“Because nowadays giving Owen Cruze a copy of the KABLAMasutra will put a smile on his face for so long, but it won’t last. Magically ensuring Marie Jones got a World title shot, which I might add was the ONLY thing on her Christmas List, won’t mean anything once she loses. Giving the SCW Peyton Rice to look at…”
He stares wistfully over at a Peyton Rice poster which hangs on the chimney breast… yes the word breast was used on purpose.
“Well, Peyton is the Christmas Miracle, but that is beside the point. For every miracle there is a Ravyn, a Josh Hudson, or a Blake Mason… sorry Billy, you still haven’t done enough to flip over to the ‘nice’ list just yet, good try though. These people who want to piss all over… can I say piss Rudolph?”
He looks round the camera and if we could see Rudolph we’d know he was doing a reindeer shrug, whatever that is.
“Meh, done it twice now anyways, they want to kill the Christmas Spirit with whatever liquid they chose. Well boys and girls… not on my watch, and not this year.”
He holds up his drink, leaning forwards and ‘clinking’ it against the lens, a little too hard for Rudolph’s liking.
“This year is going to be different. This year I’m going to put a smile on EVERYONES faces…”
Another twinkle, because why not?
“For this End of Year Special, Santa Claus is coming to town and yes… if you’ve been bad, you HAD better watch out.
Merry Christmas… ya filthy animals.”
Rudolph cuts the camera, and steps from behind it, his front limbs crossed and on his hind legs
Rudolph: You sure about this?
Santa gets to his feet, and staggers a little having gotten up a little too quickly. He then falls backwards and into the Christmas tree, and is left laid in amongst the tinsel and baubles, having amazingly not spilt a single drop of whiskey
"Abso-fucking-lutely"
Scene fades