Hang On Santa...

I just bet you have heard this one. "Santa is watching you.  He knows whether you are being naughty or nice."  I staunchly believe that it is totally fabricated and I will tell you why I believe that.

One pitifully prosaic December day, as I went about my usual, habitual duties of being a child, playing "beat my brother with a wooden chair" (it was my own personal game I created as I had the imagination of a true visionary) and my mom screamed at me with all of the trembling fury that she possessed that, "Santa was watching and had decided I was naughty and not going to get ANY presents for Christmas!"

Oh, really? So, let me get this straight.  There is this unshaven, morbidly obese 500+ year old man sitting in his ice fortress in the Northern Hemisphere of the Earth, lounging around in who knows what the 364 days of the year he is not actually working watching me through his magic crystal ball at all hours of the day and night passing judgement on my playing skills.  For the record, my goal was to make my brother stronger as a person so I was doing a good thing, but even if that plan didn't pan out I still resent the fact that Santa was on a power trip dangling toys over my head like I was a puppet in his creepy little ice world.

Hang on Santa. I'm coming.

Obviously, the old man didn't really know who he was dealing with.  I just happened to have first hand information (my mom) that Santa was going to be at the local mall that Saturday.  I had only days to put a massive offensive campaign together.

Oh, I'll show you naughty, big guy.  Drink your milk.  You gonna need it.

I spent night and day plotting against Santa.  There could be no tactical errors on my part.  

The day arrived.  I loaded up my gear into my backpack and headed to the mall on my bike.

"Are you going to see Santa, Dear?"  I heard my mom yell as I hopped on my bike.

Oh, yeah, I'm going...

I waited in that line for what seemed like hours to see him until at last my turn came.  The first part of my plan was to get close to him and lure him into my trap so I crossed step one off of my list of sitting in his lap.  I lay my backpack out of sight close to an elf.  I thought about bringing the elf down, too.

As I got close to him, I was shaking with excitement.  I was going to bring him down, down, down!.  I was going to be the kid to bring down Clause.

And then something happened after I sat on his lap that totally caught me off guard and completely threw me for a loop.  He asked me what I wanted for Christmas.

Was he kidding me?  Was this some type of joke?  There was still a chance? My heart beat fast and my mind raced faster.  I had to think with the skill of lightning.  Was this a trick or a defensive move on his part?

It got worse.  He put his arm around me and smiled.  "Ohhh...he is good," I thought to myself.  I looked over at my backpack full of weapons, including a small rocket launcher I had devised.  I looked back up at him and smiled.  I knew exactly what I wanted.  

In the excitement of the event, with great hope of getting toys, I ran out of the mall without my backpack.  I didn't remember it until the next day I saw on the news that a backpack filled with weapons of mass destruction had been found at the mall near Santa's post.  They had evacuated the mall and temporarily closed it down.  Almost, 1500 kids didn't get to see Santa that week and the mall lost tens of thousands of dollars in revenue.  

I secretly smiled to myself while watching the news, so thankful that they had found someone else's green backpack with the initials TF and not mine. Santa might not have thought I was nice, after all.