We all love our jolly fat man of Christmas, but behind the
depictions of Santa that we all know and love lurks a dark secret. It all began
on the night before Christmas when I was eleven years old. I had plans to stay
up all night so I could meet Santa Claus himself, so after my parents went to
sleep I came out into the living room. I situated myself on the couch by the
Christmas tree but quickly dozed off. I was woken back up when I heard the
sounds of what I thought to be jingling bells in the distance which I assumed
to be Santa on his sleigh. Quickly, I made sure that there were cookies by the
Christmas tree to please the fat man of Christmas on his arrival. But as the
sound of what I thought were bells got closer I could clearly make out that it
was not the sound of bells, but the sound of bones! I heard something at the
front door and I knew it must be the Claus, but I feared for what that sound
was and what he would do when he saw me. Before I could react the door swung
open and I saw the man of Christmas in his true form. Tall, pale, and dressed
in red, was the spookiest skeleton I had ever seen. It all made sense now.
There was no way someone could deliver that many presents in one night and
still be alive. I snapped to my senses when Skeleton Claus (that’s what I’m
calling him from now on) looked right at me! That’s when he let out a jolly “Ho
Ho Ho” which helped to ease the tension. We then got into a deep conversation
about politics. When he realized the time, Skeleton Claus said he needed to be
heading out, so he unloaded the presents under the tree then walked over to the
cookies. Skeleton Claus angrily yelled “WHY DIDN’T YOU GIVE ME MILK”. At this
moment I knew I screwed up. Skeleton Claus then picked me up and ate me. So
remember, always leave milk out on Christmas Eve or else you will end up like
me.