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He Knows if You've Been Bad or Good

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The Bobfather

“Well, you’ve been a right little bastard this year, haven’t you Johnny,” Santa said looming over the seven year old in bed.

Johnny pulled the comforter under his chin and held it tight in fright. Johnny didn’t know what to say. This was Santa Claus and he was saying that he’d been really bad this year. Johnny thought Santa must be mistaken, confused him with another Johnny somewhere else. Maybe if he tried to explain to Santa that he couldn’t be right about Johnny being bad or a bastard, whatever that was, he would understand. What did he have to lose?

“Santa, sir . . .,” Johnny’s voice trembled, “you must be thinking of another Johnny. I’ve been really good this year. Just ask my mom.”

Santa’s eyes turned red and it seemed steam flared out of his nostrils like a dragon about to breathe fire. Johnny was suddenly sorry he tried to challenge Santa, he was really mad now. A small whimper escaped Jimmy’s throat. Santa grinned evilly. Johnny’s body shivered involuntarily at the look in Santa’s eyes. He decided to keep his mouth shut no matter what Santa said.

Santa leaned over Johnny, moving closer to his face so that he could look into the eyes of the terrified child. Santa could see tears welling up in the bright innocent green eyes and smiled. “You know, Johnny, I keep a list of the good and the bad children. You know what happens to the good kids, but ever wonder what happens to the bad boys and girls? Huh?” Santa asked grinning with rows of rotting teeth.

Johnny could smell alcohol on Santa’s breath, like his dad’s breath lately. He didn’t know Santa drank alcohol. Then again, he didn’t know Santa visited the bad kids on his list either. “No, Santa, what happens?” Johnny asked afraid of what the answer would be.

“I punish them,” Santa said losing his rotten smile, revealing a malevolent glare.

Santa turned to his sack and reached in for Johnny’s punishment. Slowly he removed a long blade, half as long as little Johnny was tall. The shiny blade glinted red and green from the Christmas lights outside his window. Johnny shuddered and wanted to pee. Santa raised the small sword above Johnny’s chest and said, “Bad boys must die, Johnny. I can’t have any bad children running around anymore.”

The door to Johnny’s room swung open and Santa turned around to see a nine iron speeding toward his face. He didn’t have any time to react and took the head of the golf club square in the nose. Blood flew from his face and spattered Johnny’s face and covered his blanket like red snowflakes. Santa fell to the floor in a heap, blood pouring from his nose and mouth. Johnny jumped out of bed and hugged his father who wielded the golf club that stopped Santa’s punishment.

“Are you alright, Johnny?” his father asked hugging his son tightly.

“Yes, daddy, I am now.” He looked down at the fallen fat man dressed in red and white and stepped toward the unconscious man.

“He can’t hurt me any more, can he daddy?” Johnny asked not taking his eyes off of the bloody face.

“No son, he can’t hurt you any more.”

Johnny turned to his father and said, “Good.” He stepped closer to where Santa lay and kicked him in the ribs over and over. “Gonna punish me, huh,” Johnny spat between clenched teeth and kicked him again.

He moved next to his father’s side and placed his head against him. His father laughed at his son’s moment of revenge and patted his head lovingly. “That’s a good boy, Johnny, that’s a good boy.


Post Sat Dec 03, 2005 2:23 pm   
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