Author: R.

Santa’s Wife

Andrew was fascinated by Santa Claus.
After decades of research, one thing he could never answer was: what was Mrs. Claus’ name?
While out hiking in Norway, he came across a strange cave.
It was warm and green inside, populated by tiny people, singing happily, building toys.
All watched over by the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen.
“Niobe,” said a voice, and Andrew turned to face an ancient man with a long white beard.
“Which makes you… Merlin,” said Andrew.
The ancient wizard smiled. “And I can’t let you leave.”
Meat made the elves work harder and sing happier.

Santa credit ratings

Santa knows when you’ve been good or bad.
He also knows if you’re a good or bad credit risk.
Credit rating agencies constantly ask Santa for assessments.
Because it’s easy to fool the credit rating agencies.
Or fill their records with all kinds of false reports.
But, try as you might, you can’t fool Santa.
Leaving milk and cookies on the mantel is one way to get your credit score up.
And sending a thank you note after Christmas will net you a few points.
As for sexual favors, well, the naughtier, the better your chances for a Gold card.

The Red of Christmas

It was the first Christmas for the peacekeeping mission, and we sent out teams with trees and ribbons and gifts and supplies to make nice with the Christian minority population.
We were greeted with hugs and thanks and what little they could scrape up, offering candies and treats and dances and songs.
Wreaths on their doors and a moment of peace and love in their hearts.
We might as well have painted bullseyes on their front doors.
The deathsquads sent out more men to shoot and blow them up.
The green of Islam, the red of Christian blood.
Merry Christmas.

Candy Cane Factory

I remember when candy canes were made by hand.
Every step… mixing, heating, rolling, stretching, and so on.
All done by people.
As each machine took its place in the line, there would be people putting things in it or taking things out of it.
But there were still people involved.
Eventually, the machines all connected to other machines, a fully integrated process, and no room was left for people.
They clean themselves now, they manage themselves, and they repair themselves too.
The candy canes taste horrible, but they look nice.
We just put them on the tree these days.

Believe in

It’s a strange situation.
Santa doesn’t believe in the Easter Bunny.
The Easter Bunny doesn’t believe in The Great Pumpkin.
The Great Pumpkin doesn’t believe in The Loch Ness Monster.
The Boogeyman. Bigfoot. The Monster Under the Bed.
And so on. All the way down to Jesus.
Nobody believes in him anymore.
Not even himself.
So, they made a union. The Mythical Creatures and Beings Union.
And they all committed to believe in each other.
They had regular meetings, kept statistics, and offered mentoring.
After a while, everybody believed in everything.
The world became a very scary and weird place.

Red dye

We built a line of snowmen along the driveway, all with twig arms out in salute.
My dad would drive past them and salute back.
Then, we’d knock over the snowmen and spray red food dye on them.
When dad came back, he was horrified at the carnage.
But the real horror wasn’t until Spring.
Because the red food dye was toxic to grass.
We ended up spending the summer reseeding, resodding, and fertilizing the bald patches in the lawn.
And when the winter came again, we weren’t allowed to make snowmen again.
Or go anywhere near the kitchen cabinet.

Weekly Challenge #763 – PICK TWO: reward, puppet, global, gear, shop, pit stop

Baby panther

LIZZIE

She hated being a puppet in his hands. What gave her some peace was walking down the pathway with the old trees. One day, she noticed something shiny to the right. A marble perhaps? The next day, she brought some beads and left them there. And that’s when the gifts appeared on the pathway. First a bit of glass. Then, a button, an old key. It made her smile. It gave her strength. And she said “no more”. She walked away from him, for good. Today, she still walks that pathway, exchanging gifts with her new friend, a very generous crow.

RICHARD

Scum

“Got any gear?”
I looked at the kid with distaste. He was every inch the stereotypical druggie: Shambling and sniffing, his vacant eyes darting around in paranoid fear from his sallow, pock-marked face.

I nodded. “For the right price.”

He fumbled a handful of dirty bills from somewhere deep within his sweatpants – now you know why I always wear gloves – and I slipped him the small polythene packet.

I despise scum like him.

And I imagine that you despise scum, like me.

But, I’m just a puppet. It’s the people pulling my strings you should despise most.

I do.

SERENDIPITY

Have you ever wondered why so many serial killers remove their victims’ body parts to take as souvenirs?

It’s our reward for a job well done.

After all, no-one else is going to congratulate us on our work, so we have to take things into our own hands.

But, what to do with all those body parts, once we’ve got them? We can’t exactly put them on display or show them off to our friends!

So, I turn them into children’s toys: Lovingly crafted marionettes and puppets from stolen parts and pieces.

Perhaps your kids would like one for Christmas?

TOM

Cluster Fuck II

The woman who had set this in motion gave me that second grade teach stare. “Inappropriate language Master Marquette.” I always vexes me when someone with multiple children takes umbrage with the term. How the fuck did you end up with them, but say cluster fuck, well that just not polite intercourse. So I looked at her and gave her a “WE BE ADULTS HERE LOOK.” I wanted to say “I an’t no reward puppet, you call me up to dance, you better have a band a hand.” But she had dash back inside the hall as the music played.

TURA

Gear; Pit stop
———
At car races nowadays, the cars drive themselves, and the pit stops are totally automated. The machines can swap out a busted gearbox in seconds. No-one programs anything, the robots learn by competing against each other.

Rumour is that there’s no longer any human input, from the racetracks, to the factories, to the mines and oil wells. New tracks get built without anyone asking for them. There are twice as many as two years ago, and they’re bigger.

It’s still the most popular spectator sport, but soon the world might be just one huge racetrack, with no-one left to watch.
———

NORVAL JOE

One of the federal agents shouted at Mrs. Blanketmaker. “There’s a global conspiracy to turn all of you heroes into villains. You’re walking into their trap. Before you know it you’ll be puppets of their evil organization.”

Mr. Withybottom blustered at the agent, “Are you telling me that skinny little kid over there is, in fact, a superhero?”

The agent turned his back on Billbert’s mother. “We suspect he is. We will reward anyone with firsthand knowledge of him or anyone else using unusual powers.”

Mr. Withybottom pushed Linoliamanda forward with an evil smile. “Linny. Tell them what you know.”

RICK

General Store

Jerry had an old farmhouse, wrap around porch, big … BIG front room. And Jerry is always been something of a hoarder … food, water, cleaners, paper goods … He was set for the next 20 years.

Had a handpainted sign that read …

“General Store”

… If the sign was out front he was open for business … If not … then not.

Without a store around within 15 mi Jerry did well with cigarettes, soda, beer, and such, not a living … but he did okay.

He did make a killing on the corn liquor and homegrown marijuana!

Jerry what’s the richest guy in the county!

PLANET Z

It’s not like stealing the Mona Lisa, but long ago news broke that someone had stolen Kermit the Frog from Jim Henson’s office.
Sure, he had dozens of the things back in the day, but there was something special about this particular puppet.
And he kept it in his office, and after he died, they found it there, sitting in his chair.
People say it’s cursed. Or haunted.
The janitor at Henson Productions doesn’t even touch it.
Sometimes, when a tour goes through, people claim it’s staring at them.
But that’s just crazy. It only hunts and kills people, okay?

Doctor Odd’s Advent Calendar

Doctor Odd loved the holidays.
Every year, he’d craft some bizarre advent calendar, slowly revealing some nefarious plot to take over the world.
Or destroy it. Either way, he wasn’t picky.
This year’s effort would be his masterpiece.
Each day, he revealed a cure to some disease or affliction.
Cancer. AIDS. The common cold.
By the 24th day, he’d cured everything.
The world sang his praises on Christmas Day.
Then, Odd revealed his Nightmare Plague.
Why did he go through the trouble of creating all those cures?
He wanted a clean slate upon which to test his own newly-crafted disease.

Eartha’s Santa Baby

So, Eartha Kitt asked Santa for a bunch of things.
She wanted a sable coat, a light blue convertible car, a yacht, a platinum mine, a duplex, and checks.
I know she was a champion for civil rights and social causes, but seriously: what a greedy bitch.
In the song, she claims that she passed on a lot of fun and kissing guys, but didn’t the CIA report on her say she was a sadistic nymphomaniac?
Which is it? What’s the truth?
Okay, so maybe she didn’t kiss any of the guys, but if the catsuit and whip fits, right?

Christmas jerky

It’s a family tradition that we hang their stockings from the mantel on Christmas.
That way, Santa Claus can leave presents for us in the stockings.
Grandma hung one of her compression socks from the mantel.
Santa brought her some Ohama Steaks.
She slept late, we had lit a fire in the fireplace, and the compressed steak ended up as beef jerky.
Which Grandma ended up giving to us, since jerky isn’t all that good on her dentures.
“Gee, thanks, Grandma,” we said, staring at the leg-sweat seasoned meat sticks. “Merry Christmas.”
We gave the disgusting things to the dog.