So Christmas is almost here. The time for goodwill to all men. It should of course be good will to all people. But I guess we’ve only got a finite reserve of goodwill and by the time we’ve finished with all the men there just isn’t enough left for women, children or turkeys.
Christmas is one of my favourite times of the year chiefly because it gives me the excuse to go door to door Carol Trumpeting. Basically it’s Carol singing but with a trumpet. I do all the great songs usually ending with a 2am rendition of Silent Night. It doesn’t always go down too well with the neighbours though. But I’m sure Carol Singing didn’t take off straight away either; they had to persevere until they had won the respect and indeed hearts of the people. So that’s what I’ll do – persevere. No matter how many petitions are waved in my face.
Also this is the only time of the year that we can have that staple of Christmas food – the Christmas dinner. In fact I love it so much, that I wish we could have it at other times of the year as well. But it’s called Christmas dinner for a reason. In fact, there is actually a law that states that any peasants caught eating a mixture of turkey, potatoes, vegetables and gravy at a time of the year other than the festive season can be brought before the Emperor of Saturn to be put to death while he feasts on his own turkey based meal. I can’t quite remember when or where I heard this, it may have been in one of my many fever induced dreams but that doesn’t make it any less true. So be careful.
Of course there’s one character who every girl and boy hopes to see at Christmas; he sports a white beard, a sack full of goodies and his name is Santa Claus. That’s right girls and boys, its Santa Claus.
I can remember when I was a little Muramusu and how excited I was to go into Santa’s Grotto for the first time. The only problem was once I got in there I froze up. I don’t know if it was the pressure of asking for my dream present or just Santa’s imposing appearance but I just stood there in the doorway staring straight at him. Over the years this led to some awkward moments. And I never once got within touching distance of that famous knee of his.
One year was especially embarrassing. As I was standing and staring at the great man, one of the elves put his hand on my shoulder to move me out of the way for another child to come in and I just started screaming. I screeched and bawled and didn’t stop until a passing nun ran in and put me to sleep with a choke hold. Not one of my proudest moments but I did receive a BMX that year so I guess Santa must have taken pity on me.
After all that happened to me, you’d think I’d stay away from Mr Claus. But a few years ago, I thought I’d try to put myself in the boots of the Lapland based jovial gift source and actually become him. I wanted to know what if felt like to wield the influence he does; to decide (without committee) who is good and who is bad. That’s quite frankly an awesome power. Maybe that’s another reason I was reticent in approaching him as a child. Well that or the deep scar on his cheek and bloodied machete at his side.
So a month before Christmas that year I turned up in the full Santa regalia at my local shopping centre demanding to be their Santa. But they told me they already had one. And that’s when he marched out of his Grotto and clocked me instantly. I knew he had recognised me. And I certainly recognised him – that scar is hard to forget and the machete even more so. I hadn’t planned for this – a Santa verses Santa face-off. But I stood firm as he approached. Then he spoke in his deep booming voice: “I want that BMX back!”
I turned and ran and never looked back.
So here I am, waiting nervously for Christmas to roll around again. I’ve locked all the doors, had the chimney filled in and boarded all the windows. I won’t even be able to go Carol Trumpeting this year – much to the disappointment of the neighbours I’m sure. And to be honest, I’m all out of goodwill, so don’t expect any to come your way.
I’m just hoping I can get through the Christmas period safely. Maybe he’ll miss me out this year, maybe he’ll forget. You see if you’re on Santa’s ‘good’ list he comes in the night to give you presents. If you’re on his ‘bad’ list he comes in the night to collect. And I sold that BMX years ago.
“He knows when you’ve been bad or good – so be good for goodness sake.”
Truer words have never been spoken.
Merry Christmas.
