Santa Clause
folder
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
1,715
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
Original - Misc › -Slash - Male/Male
Rating:
Adult +
Chapters:
2
Views:
1,715
Reviews:
0
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
This is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of characters to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. The Author holds exclusive rights to this work. Unauthorized duplication is prohibited.
Chapter 1
"Once upon a time in a cold, cold place there lived a man named Santa Clause. For most of the year, this man was a very busy and non-caring person, but when December first came 'round every year, he became good, and jolly, and fair, and caring, and generous. He also was suddenly filled with tons of, just wonderfully," this was said sarcastically while the speaker swirled his tequila, "fantastic magic.
"Again.
"Every damn year it happens.
"And I have to remember," Kris frowned, concentrating on not crying. Shaking his head, he continued, an expression of grief flooding over his usually flushed cheeks and making him look sickly and pale. "You know, the song is right."
Kris paused for a moment, his mouth turning down into a sneer that could never, and would never fit his face. " 'Better not pout, ya better not cry, ya better not shout, I'm telling you why, 'cause Santa Clausee," he paused, chuckling darkly, "That's me!"
"Where was I?" He mockingly asked the air. "Oh! -Is coming to town. He sees you when you're sleeping(and whom with), he knows when you're awake(and doing only what god and I know)," he sang nastily. "He knows when you've been bad(oh, is that what she's been?) or good(who is these days, anyway?), so be good for goodness sakes!
"Apparently, Mrs. Clause doesn't know that damned song, because if she did, Raymond woundn't exist. Damn bastard," Kris downed the last of his drink, squinting as the sharp liquid burned down his throat and into his egg-nogg filled stomach.
The alcohol starting to take effect, Kris began to slur a bit during his last explanation, "I don't have to, though, see everything, except in December. I never have to see her cheating on me until December, December when I become large enough to 'handle' all the information of world. Tradition, really. Well, it's a tradition that started with me.
"The elves do it, I think. They take away my ability to see them, the people, I see everyone, you know, not only kids, and the memories of what I saw all of December as soon as Christmas is over. It isn't as efficient, of course, as me viewing the people all year, but I think that they're doing it out of pity, really. It's bad enough I have to remember every December every damn December before. It's bad enough that I have to see everything again every damn year.
"Bless Jesus and the Holy Father, Rudolph, and I will never say that Santa Clause isn't needed everywhere, but it's times like this that I wish that he never picked me! Why me? I miss being human, Rudolph!" Kris began to cry silently.
"I wouldn't have to see my wife, every damn holiday season," Kris sobbed, "screwing some guy- guys. And I still love her, old buddy. I do.
"And it kills me! Because I will never die, ever get rid of this blasted pain, ever, until The Holy Father and His Son decide to create a new Santa.
"If I could kill myself, Rudolph, I can't even be sorry about it anymore, I would."
Kris fell from his leaning position against the stables to his knees, sobs wracking his large form.
Rudolph shook his head sadly, and neighed a quiet prayer that put his best friend into a harmonious sleep. The reindeer then plucked one of his many blankets off his back and threw it over the man in front of him, in the process lightly pushing Kris into a comfortable position in the hay.
When, in the light of his nose, Rudolph saw that Kris was crying in his sleep, he cursed Mrs. Marie Jane Clause for stabbing the heart of the kindest man in the world so deeply that she could haunt him even in heaven.
"Again.
"Every damn year it happens.
"And I have to remember," Kris frowned, concentrating on not crying. Shaking his head, he continued, an expression of grief flooding over his usually flushed cheeks and making him look sickly and pale. "You know, the song is right."
Kris paused for a moment, his mouth turning down into a sneer that could never, and would never fit his face. " 'Better not pout, ya better not cry, ya better not shout, I'm telling you why, 'cause Santa Clausee," he paused, chuckling darkly, "That's me!"
"Where was I?" He mockingly asked the air. "Oh! -Is coming to town. He sees you when you're sleeping(and whom with), he knows when you're awake(and doing only what god and I know)," he sang nastily. "He knows when you've been bad(oh, is that what she's been?) or good(who is these days, anyway?), so be good for goodness sakes!
"Apparently, Mrs. Clause doesn't know that damned song, because if she did, Raymond woundn't exist. Damn bastard," Kris downed the last of his drink, squinting as the sharp liquid burned down his throat and into his egg-nogg filled stomach.
The alcohol starting to take effect, Kris began to slur a bit during his last explanation, "I don't have to, though, see everything, except in December. I never have to see her cheating on me until December, December when I become large enough to 'handle' all the information of world. Tradition, really. Well, it's a tradition that started with me.
"The elves do it, I think. They take away my ability to see them, the people, I see everyone, you know, not only kids, and the memories of what I saw all of December as soon as Christmas is over. It isn't as efficient, of course, as me viewing the people all year, but I think that they're doing it out of pity, really. It's bad enough I have to remember every December every damn December before. It's bad enough that I have to see everything again every damn year.
"Bless Jesus and the Holy Father, Rudolph, and I will never say that Santa Clause isn't needed everywhere, but it's times like this that I wish that he never picked me! Why me? I miss being human, Rudolph!" Kris began to cry silently.
"I wouldn't have to see my wife, every damn holiday season," Kris sobbed, "screwing some guy- guys. And I still love her, old buddy. I do.
"And it kills me! Because I will never die, ever get rid of this blasted pain, ever, until The Holy Father and His Son decide to create a new Santa.
"If I could kill myself, Rudolph, I can't even be sorry about it anymore, I would."
Kris fell from his leaning position against the stables to his knees, sobs wracking his large form.
Rudolph shook his head sadly, and neighed a quiet prayer that put his best friend into a harmonious sleep. The reindeer then plucked one of his many blankets off his back and threw it over the man in front of him, in the process lightly pushing Kris into a comfortable position in the hay.
When, in the light of his nose, Rudolph saw that Kris was crying in his sleep, he cursed Mrs. Marie Jane Clause for stabbing the heart of the kindest man in the world so deeply that she could haunt him even in heaven.