Fiction, Humor - Mature Audience
5 min
Santa's Helpers
Jessica Duling
A man in a Santa suit, fur-lined hat, and combat boots paces back and forth along the sidewalk, rattling a bell in passerby's faces.
"Please donate to the Children Against Poverty foundation to spread some holiday cheer! Hello sir, how would you like to donate—well, keep that up, my coal mines are plentiful!"
The jangle of a bell across the street catches his attention. A skinny man in black, thick-framed glasses and an identical red suit is setting up a donation can. Scoffing, he looks both ways before stomping over. The stranger fiddles with the can's hook and doesn't acknowledge his vibrating presence.
"Eh-hem!"
The stranger looks around, startled.
"Pardon me?"
"This is my area! What do you think you're doing?"
"Goodness, I didn't see another Santa here, erm, I apologize. I was just assigned here, so I don't really know..."
"Hmm. I'm assuming you talked to Susie, right? Red hair? Gap tooth? Giant pillows?"
His jaw drops a little. "I don't think that's an appropriate—"
"—She works at Mattress Firm, tried to sell me some ‘memory foam' nonsense."
"Oh. Well, yes, I talked to Susie. Could I see your assignment please?"
Huffing, he fishes a card out of his pocket and hands it over. Adjusting his glasses, the stranger says, "Ah, I see the problem. See, you're on Lindsay and Bellegarde. This says Langsley and Boulevard."
"Langsley and—?" He takes out his phone and types this into a map. "I can't go there! That place looks depressing. It's behind a Dollar Tree, for Christ's sake!"
"I'm sorry, but... what else is there to do?" The stranger frowns.
A devious, delightful scheme churns in his mind. He bares his teeth. "No, you know what? Let's make this a friendly competition. You stay on your side of the street, I'll stay on mine, and whoever gets the most donations by the end of the day gets to keep their post. It's the perfect solution!"
"Don't you think that there's a more mature way to handle this?"
"Shut up, it's perfect. Best of luck to ya, big guy!"
Buoyed by his own brilliance, he saunters back to his post.
He beams at every person who passes his way. His "ho ho hos" come straight from the heart. By lunchtime, his can gives a rewarding rattle.
The thing he didn't account for, though, was that the stranger might be a good Santa. Parents pose their children for photos. Sly remarks send them into hysterics. Dollar bills practically crawl out of wallets of their own accord. It's painful to watch.
He decides that it's time to cash in a favor with an old friend.
***
"You brought puppies?" The stranger towers over him and the throng of children clustered around the slobbering crate. "Where did you get puppies on such short notice? I hope you didn't use any donations to fund this petty little sales tactic."
He claps dog hair from his hands and stands up. "Nope! They're a... mutually beneficial business arrangement. Knew a puggle breeder I've helped get out of a few tight spots."
"Mom, can we pleaaase keep one?" A boy wheedles, squeezing a wriggling puppy.
"Sure thing, pal! Best Christmas gift ever, ay?" He faces the stranger with a self-satisfied smirk. "So, how are you coming along?"
With a scowl, the stranger turns on his heel and storms back to his post.
At some point, the stranger slips away without him noticing. Hours later, he returns, carting what appears to be a life-size train set. He props a glittery sign in front of the donation stand and lifts up a megaphone.
"Sleigh rides! Get your free sleigh rides!" The stranger's nasal voice echoes.
As a line of squealing children trickles around the block, he hurries to make some calls.
***
"You must be out of your mind!"
From his perch atop the ladder, he chuckles, the glow from Christmas lights tingeing his face red and green. On the ground, people are setting up inflatable reindeer and snow machines and those cardboard cutouts where you stick your face in so your mother can snap photos of you as an elf. He hoists himself down the ladder, jumping off the last step.
"I see your meager sleigh rides, and raise you one Winter Wonderland!"
"They weren't meager, and this is preposterous! Do you even have permission to set up a ‘Winter Wonderland' on a public street? Look," the stranger says through gritted teeth. "I have tried to go along with your whole convoluted—whatever, for the kids, but you have zero respect for the system and are making a spectacle of Christmas!"
"I am?" He walks up to the stranger and pokes him in the chest. "I bet you're just jealous that I'm a better Santa Claus."
"Excuse me? You're delusional if you think that you're a better Santa Claus. You can't even get your ‘ho ho hos' right!"
"What?" He sputters. "What's wrong with my ‘ho ho hos'?"
"They're too breathy. You need to have some power behind them, utilize the diaphragm, like this: Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas!"
"That's exactly what I'm doing, listen!"
Their "ho ho hos" overlap each other, covering a yelp of: "Santas!" as a cannonball plows into his kneecap and fastens itself around his leg.
"Cassidy! I'm so sorry, Santa, she's..." The mother stops short and blinks, her gaze traveling between the two of them.
"Why are there two of you?" Cassidy voices her mother's thoughts and relinquishes his leg, backing up so her mother can grab her shoulders.
"I, uhhh," he rubs the back of his neck until the stranger swoops in. He crouches down to meet her eyes.
"Well, erm, Cassidy... Santa's a very busy man. Sometimes he recruits people such as my friend and myself to spread Christmas joy when he can't be there in person. Is there anything you would like Santa to get you this year?"
Cassidy lowers her eyes to the ground and shuffles her feet. "I'm sure Santa's busy, but... all I really want for Christmas is for my dad to come home. He's overseas. And I know that he's doing a good thing and all, but he's going to miss hanging Santa Claws!" The stranger's eyes widen, until she continues, "Every year, we hang our teddy bear at the top of the tree, where the star's supposed to go. He's going to miss that."
The stranger sighs, and touches her nose with one finger. "I'm sure your daddy misses you very much, and knows how much you love him. I'll let Santa know, though, since you've been such a good girl."
Cassidy brightens, and her mother scoops her up. "Thank you, not-Santas!"
As they walk away, the stranger takes off his glasses and wipes his eyes. To his surprise, he addresses him. "Hey, erm, I don't think I caught your name."
"Oh, right. The name's Mark."
"Nice to meet you, Mark. I'm Nick."
"No way. Nick? As in, St. Nick?"
Nick's face splits into a grin. "Well, if the red suit fits."
Mark snickers. "You're not half-bad, you know?"
"Wow, was that a compliment?" Nick says in mock astonishment.
"Maybe it was. Some of the Christmas cheer might be getting to my head."
"Well, don't let it get too far, you might actually become pleasant!"
"Ho ho ho!"
Their laughter fades into easy silence as they watch people walk by. Some shoot confused glances their way. Some yell into their phones. Others hold hands, swinging as they wander. A single, white flake floats from the sky.
"Hey, Nick?"
"Hmm?"
"Want to grab a beer or something?"
"Yeah. I would like that."
The two amble into the nearest bar, Mark holding the door open for Nick. Their donation cans stand forgotten, creaking in the cold. In a few minutes, they're blanketed in snow.
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