Flash

Yes, Benjamin, There Is A Santa Claus

When Benji turned eleven, he realized that believing in Santa Claus was uncool. No more stupid Santa Watch for him!  

He discovered that believing in Santa was a hard habit to break.  He need evidence -- real, hard, factual evidence -- that Santa was just the figment of childish imagination.

On Christmas Eve, he went to bed early because his parents insisted that Christmas carols were more appropriate to the occasion than cartoon videos. After thumbing through fourteen Space Action comic books with dwindling enthusiasm, he gave up trying to sleep and waited impatiently for his parents to go to bed.  When everything was quiet, he tiptoed downstairs. He snitched a cookie from the Santa snack which his baby sister had insisted on putting beside the tree, and curled up in front of the fireplace in his sleeping bag.

His enthusiasm for scientific inquiry was insufficient to keep him alert for more than a few minutes. He slept soundly until a thump jarred the whole house.

Benji's eyes popped open. Santa had tumbled down the chimney.

"Go ahead -- help yourself to the snacks," the jolly elf said, extruding himself from the narrow flue. "I never touch milk and cookies. I'm a spirit, you know."

"If you're a spirit, how come you look like Santa in the Coke commercials?" Benji demanded.

"Because that's the way you still imagine me." Santa began to rummage through the parcels that had materialized under the tree while Benji was sleeping. "I see you got the video game system you wanted."

"You should know. You brought it."

"Why do people always insist on believing that?" Santa said. "I'm the Spirit of Giving, not the Spirit of Receiving."

Benji thought that one over while he was untangling himself from his sleeping bag. "So, why are you here?" he asked.

"To talk to you."

"Talk to me? About what?"

Santa looked Benji right in the eye. "Stop hassling your parents for stuff they can't afford. And, if you want peace in your corner of Earth, give back those comic books you stole from Jason. He's your best friend, you know."

"Back off!" Benji hissed.  "You're not supposed to be ju-ju-judgemental!"

Santa snorted in a most untraditional fashion. "You have me mixed up with God. I'm the naughty and nice guy, remember? I keep lists."

"So, who cares?" Benji said defiantly.

"You do," Santa said. "That's why there's still hope."

When Benji woke up in his bed in the morning, he sneered at himself for being taken in by a hokey dream.  His sleeping bag was neatly rolled up on the top shelf of his closet, exactly where it belonged.  

The smell of frying bacon lured him downstairs.  His sister was out of mind with excitement.  Even his parents seemed more excited than he was.  They were amazingly good at pretending to believe that a jolly old elf had squeezed down the chimney with gifts, and there would be no credit card bills in the new year.

After ripping open his gifts, Benji straggled upstairs without as much as a thank you.  He had never imagined how difficult Christmas would be without Santa.

He was sprawled on his bed trying not to cry when he noticed a small silver-wrapped package on his night stand. "To Benji, from Santa." The printing was not his mother's or his sister's, and his father had never written a gift tag in his life.

Benji unwrapped the gift slowly, afraid that it might be a practical joke. It was an enameled angel lapel pin with the message "Peace on Earth." He pinned it on his hockey jacket before going to Jason's to wish him Merry Christmas and return his comic books.