Once upon a merry time of Christmas in today’s modern world…
Amidst the aromas of warm apple cider and richly sweet cinnamon rolls, the black officer glared angrily at the crabby, middle-aged homeowner as he rambled on!
“This was Santa, man! He really exists. And he’s a black man with a gray beard.” In the background, not even an antique wall clock’s solid, distinctive tick tock could soothe the escalating animosity brewing up within the policeman as he continued to listen.
Now Officer John looked at his partner, Officer Lennon, with a scour that reeked heavily of disapproval while the man nodded his head impatiently. Nary could the heartily warm, richly colorful, and most elaborate décor ever allay this policeman’s mood that was being quickly tested! Maroon and sage green ornaments dominating a tree that never would have fit into a single of the modest homes in which he had ever lived. This tree played goliath to the biggest 7-foot tree that he’d ever enjoyed on any given Christmas many years before the economy of the world petered out like an old Dodge truck that hasn’t been made for the past half dozen decades! An aroma of cinnamon and apple spice lingered dreamily throughout the luxurious home, which basked in the penetrating heat from the fireplace. The entire setting had initially lifted his spirits, which immediately plummeted as he continued listening to this probable liar’s tale of a black man dressed as Saint Nick looting his more than livable home. The home and décor, impressive as it were, served as but the sweetest icing on a spongy dung cake.
Officer John finally, with a lack of hostile temperament, broke his long-awaited silence. “Are you trying to say that Santa stole your kids’ toys because he is black?” The urban cop’s dark and deep brown eyes seemed to drill to the back of the Caucasian man’s skull.
“No, man! I swear! I’m just telling you that he’s black so you know who to look for.”
Finally, Officer Lennon weighed in. “Nothing to get angry about, George. Probably just some thief having fun on Christmas while looting houses.”
George John was not buying it. He figured the one having all the fun was standing right before them telling tall tales to express his blatant racism in an inappropriate, yet strangely festive manner.
“What all was taken?” Dean Lennon decided to take point on writing the report. He lifted his clipboard and readied his pen.
“Danny boy’s brand new X-Box One was taken. And he had only opened it not even four hours earlier!” Danny stood right next to his father with a perturbed, defiant scowl permanently tattooed upon his face as if he had just found out that someone peed in the lemonade he just drunk. Standing next to his brother, Steffan immediately expressed his stake in the matter. ”And I left my I-Phone 5 next to our television.” He pointed to the massive-looking projection television in the huge and spacious living room. “And Santa did not even eat the cookie I left him.”
Officer John thought to himself: Only one cookie? Geez! Mighty gracious of the stingy little brat boy. Maybe this is why Santa took instead of gave in this household – though he, of course, no longer believed in Santa or the true magic of Christmas.
Mrs. Bentley sat nervously on the couch. It mattered not, to her, that the children had lost more than $2,000 worth of gifts that had been carefully shopped online or in the most prestigious of shops and department stores in all Manhattan. What bothered her the most was that a scummy thief entered their home…dressed as Santa Claus of all things! As their two little girls continued to sleep, unaware of the disappointment they would find within the next few hours, the boys went on describing other items that were stolen…items other than brand-new gifts…items they had owned for at least the past couple of years…two bicycles! Three ugly sweaters (at least as far as the kids were concerned!)! Four older I-Pods! And a parrot they taught to say: “Bite Me!”
The police officers spent an hour in this house, which was located in a premiere New York neighborhood, on a frozen, chilly and snowy Christmas Day trying to get enough information to figure out what the hell was going on. Little did they know that their work was cut out for them. As Christmas lights danced wildly in many a yard, and as smoke billowed from many a chimney in the big city, they would spend hours reporting to various homes in this same neighborhood, listening to variations of the same story: A thief came in at night, took many belongings from the children, sometimes seen, but more times not. Little did they know that Santa was real, was frantically desperate to save Christmas, and was really taking toys from all the naughty boys and girls in this and other upscale neighborhoods where the wealthy spoiled their children completely rotten all year long.
But even Santa knows, though at times is too ashamed to admit…
Payback’s a bitch!
If you enjoyed this sample of Phil Sanderson’s The Saint Who Stole Christmas (Off-Color Edition), please consider pre-purchasing it on Amazon for the Kindle. There is also the Children’s Edition for those who enjoy a story with less adult humor. These editions of the story are based on the series featured here on Raw, Raving Rants of a Struggling Writer. But the story has been totally reworked to also include new characters that were not featured on this blog as well as expanded descriptions. Both editions will release on Nov. 1, 2014.
If you wish to buy the story but do not have a Kindle E-Reader, you can download the app for Windows, Android, etc., here:
If this story does not get you in the mood for Christmas, then nothing will!