Christmas Stories...

"I don't normally do interviews."

"I understand. I really appreciate that you are making an exception."

"You also understand that I will be reviewing the piece before publication? That is often a sticking point. I won't speak on the record until you sign that agreement."

"Yes, I spoke with my editor, and though it is highly unusual, she felt this scoop was worth the exception. However, we will be making note in the story that you made the request and did review before publication."

"That's fine. Transparency is important."

The reporter laughed, "Well you do know everything so I would imagine you would believe that!"

Santa raised a finger and shook it, "No, see, that's why I want to make sure I review your article, I've been misquoted so many times that people have the wrong impression of me all together."

"Wrong impression? But that's your job."

"That is NOT my job. Spying on people? Why would that be my job? Do I look like a spy? No I most certainly do not."

Santa got up and started pacing around the workshop.

"Look, a few years ago I was talking with one of your kind about what it was like now that Mrs. Claus and I had a few little elves of our own. I mentioned that watching them sleep was such a peaceful thing to do. Your heart just fills with love for them. And then I made a joke that they look so good when they are sleeping you forget how bad they were before they went down for their nap. Then we starting talking about the nature of goodness and the different forces that try to mold morality. I am not one for religion, you see, and I said that you should just be good for goodness sake. That there shouldn't be some reward you are reaching for, or an end game play. Good for goodness sake is it's own reward."

The reporter nodded.

"So you can imagine my surprise when all of a sudden everyone is singing songs about how I know when you are sleeping, I know when you are awake, I know if you've been bad or good and THEN they turn my founding belief, my moral compass in to some sort of threat, YOU BETTER BE GOOD FOR GOODNESS SAKE!" Santa shook his fist in a menacing way, "What was that all about? Spying? Threatening? All of a sudden instead of a jolly old elf, I'm a creepy spy guy who watches you sleep and is constantly judging you!"

"Well, I don't think people take it that way..."

"You don't think so? He's making a list? He's checking it twice? What is that all about? Like I'm suddenly in control of who is naughty and who is nice? And how would that even work? I mean, in one house the children aren't allowed to say shut up and two houses down they swear like sailors on leave and yet both sets of parents are okay with that. So who am I to say which child is naughty? The one that told his sister to shut up or the one that says his Happy Meal toy was a piece of shit?"

The reporter gave an uncomfortable laugh.

"See? It's not so easy is it? Parents determine who is naughty and who is nice. I don't get involved with that decision. And, yes, I will admit that some of this is my fault. I mean it was flattering to get all of the attention at first. Poems and songs and then TV specials. I really like that Santa Claus is Coming to Town one. I mean, it's not at all accurate, but at least I don't come off like a jerk like I do in Rudolph. AND that is all wrong too! I told one guy about putting a fog light on the lead reindeer and all of a sudden we've got a story about a deformed deer nobody likes and everyone is mean to until he's useful to them and then they all love him. What sort of fucked up messaging is that?"

"I, I g.g.guess...." the reporter stumbled.

"It's fucked up. I know, you are shocked to hear me talk like that, you'd expect it from my cousin, but not me. But sometimes you have to just say something is fucked up when it's fucked up."

"Your cousin?"

"Krampus. Yeah, we are cousins. He doesn't like to admit it, but we are related. We grew up in this business. He was pushed out first. People stopped being willing to admit their little ones were irredeemable and let him take them, he warned me that they'd come for me next, but I didn't listen. He was right. Now they all handle everything themselves. A small hand made toy isn't good enough for their precious little vermin so I'm relegated to doing mall gigs."

"Wait, that's actually you at the mall?"

"Sometimes. Sometimes it's people just dressed like me. Or what they think I look like. I actually got axed from a Macy's gig a few years ago when they decided that my real beard didn't look right and they wanted to go with a fake beard. What is up with that? I'm not Santay enough? ME?"

"So you don't do any toy delivery anymore?"

"Nope. Not since the days of one child one gift. And it's a damn shame, I tell you. My people were craftselves of the highest order. Hand carved train sets. Porcelain dolls with hand painted faces. Books written in the finest calligraphy with hand drawn illustrations. These were beautiful items. But, noooo, now it's little Johnny asking for a Playstation and 5 games. Wait, let me correct that, not asking. The parents send their little ones up to my lap and say, 'Tell Santa what you want.' TELL Santa, not ask Santa for a present, but TELL him what you want. You know what I want? I want Mom and Dad to not eat my damn cookies before I get there."

The reporter looked up from his notes, "If you aren't delivering the toys any more then why would you get the cookies?"

Santa cocked his head to the side, "Fair point. But still, they are set out for me. I should get a crack at them, shouldn't I? But it's all a moot point anyway. I haven't gone on my massive Christmas ride since the 80s. Missile Defense systems and unidentified flying sleighs don't work together."

"So you don't visit any houses on Christmas Eve anymore?"

"Nah, I hit a few here and there, but only local stuff. Anything I can take a Lyft to mostly."

The reporter looked shocked, "You use Lyft?"

"Ho, ho, ho" Santa gave a deep belly laugh, "Just pulling your leg there, sport. Nah, I have my ways of visiting with some of my biggest fans, but you know, there are fewer and fewer each year."

"So people have stopped believing in you?"

"People have stopped believing in themselves."

"What?"

"Back in the old days Krampus and I were a team. We kept the balance in life going. Parents trusted us to take care of things that needed taken care of. A small present for a job well done, a piece of coal as a warning to straighten up and fly right and the kid down the block who didn't heed the warning being dragged away in chains to spend his life with Krampus in his castle."

"That sounds really bad."

"It wasn't. Not really. There were very few irredeemable ones. Enough to keep old Kramp's house clean basically, but not a lot more. Because people believed in being good. When they saw a child who was unkind they taught him better. No present. Just coal. It was a lesson. You don't get things for nothing. You need to contribute, you need to be kind, you need to be good, it's what makes everything work. And when everything is working the way it should you might get a little treat on Christmas morning."

"But isn't that against your own good for goodness sake code? I mean if you are being good for the present then you aren't being good for goodness sake."

"You are getting it wrong. You aren't being good to get the present. You are being good and you get a present. If you are just being good just to get something then you are really being selfish and that's no good for anyone."

"How did you tell the difference?"

"I didn't have to. The parents knew. They wrote letters to me and let me know. They believed in themselves as good judges of moral character. See? Then someone somewhere gave their child an expensive gift and decided to say it was from me and BOOM! all of a sudden it's all the rage. They started letting the kids write the letters. Santa bring me this. Santa bring me that. I've been good. Yeah sure you have, kid, like I trust you to tell me. But their parents wouldn't hold up their end anymore. You try and give them some coal and they freak out. Forget about letting Krampus take his share."

"Well, I'm sorry, but it seems like that is better. I mean letting kids be snatched away. That seems really heartless."

"Heartless? You would rather have that kid grow up to be a mean selfish adult who has learned they can be as awful as they want and nothing happens, in fact not only nothing happens but he gets rewarded? How about the lesson to the other kids around him. He is an asshole all year and Christmas morning comes and he gets a brand new Huffy Bike with the electronic horn and you, the kid down the block, who was really good get a set of Lincoln Logs, and not even the big set, the little one? What sort of message is that?"

"I guess, but it still seems the old way was pretty harsh."

"And I think the new way sucks. But I am obviously biased." Santa shrugged, "So what are you going to do?"

"I guess..."

"You seem a little at a loss. This isn't really what you were expecting, I'm guessing."

"No not really. I mean, I think I have enough in here to craft a good story, I'm just not sure it will ever get published."

Santa nodded, "I know. It's why I made you sign the release. If I hadn't you would spin this in to some sort of heartwarming tale about a late in life Santa reflecting on his greatest achievements."

"Maybe."

"All right, I need to wrap this up, I've got a shift starting in a half hour in Dubuque and I haven't even got the reindeer hitched up. Do you have anything else for me before I go?"

The reporter wracked his brain for a moment to try and find something that could salvage his story, "You mentioned the Christmas movies, which one is your favorite?"

"Oh that's easy. How the Grinch Stole Christmas. I'm not in it at all. Just someone pretending to be me for all of the wrong reasons. And there is a good lesson about not needing so much stuff and well honestly it's mostly Max the dog that does it for me. He's a real cutie."

The reporter laughed. He could see his headline now, Nostalgic Santa Loves Dogs. Saved it.

"Thank you for your time, Mr. Claus. I appreciate it. And enjoy your shift at the mall."

"You're welcome, now on your way. And remember, be good for goodness sake."

And laying a finger on the side of his nose and giving a nod off to the newsroom he was disposed.

After the reporter was sent back on his way Santa got busy hitching up Donner and Blitzen to his sleigh to head off to Iowa for the afternoon. He knew there was no way he'd approve of that article being published, but it felt good to get it off his chest anyway. Maybe when he got home he'd give ole Krampy a call and see if he wanted to head North for dinner.

Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night....