Santa's Double-Edge by Kevin McGill

You Better Believe

December 24th, 1985

Mikey lay stunned.

Mom and Dad never told him. Grandpa never told him. And now he was almost ten-years-old! Ron did try to warn him on the last day of school, but Mikey punched him in the face for uttering such evil words:

"There is no Santa Claus."

Of course it was Liz who broke the news. She was really happy about it too, like she had been looking forward to destroying Mikey's childhood. Like she had run to Mom and Dad and said, "Puh-lease can I tell him? Oh, I so want to tell him. What better time to throw away all of Mikey's hopes and dreams than Christmas Eve?"

Mikey discovered something else that day.

Older sisters are evil... to the max.

Now that the cat was out of the bag on the whole operation, he knew there was no Easter Bunny or Tooth Fairy. Actually, that didn't really bother Mikey. Easter Bunny was always a little creepy. A man-sized rabbit laying rabbit eggs everywhere in the grass for you to find? Grody. Mikey would eat all his Easter candy except those gnarly eggs. Liz could have them. And the Tooth Fairy? Mikey was strict about his "No Girls Allowed Beyond This Door" policy, so he left his tooth in the hallway with a note: "That's far enough, thank you. Leave the money where I can see it", with a big arrow pointing to the bloody tooth.

Suddenly, Mikey had a sickening feeling. He sat up and looked at the army of toys around his room.

"It's all been a big lie." Mikey fell back with a groan.

There was no Voltron or G.I. Joe or He-Man or Transformers or anything. Teddy Ruxpin was probably just a doll with batteries and a cassette tape.

Tomorrow was Christmas, but why wait? What's the point now? Mikey should march downstairs and demand that Mom and Dad give him his presents immediately.

This was an unmitigated disaster.

Mikey laid on his bed, letting the wintry sun grow dim until his glow-in-the-dark moon lit up the ceiling. Mom yelled to him from the kitchen, reminding him it was his favorite dinner—Hungry Man TV dinner. Mikey wasn't hungry. Dad stood on the bottom step, which creaked in that moan-cry way, and reminded Mikey that his favorite Christmas show was on. HBO's Emmitt Otter's Jug Band Christmas. Mikey would never watch TV again. Mikey just might never move again.

Eventually, the stresses of the day coaxed Mikey under the blankets. It was only eight o'clock on Christmas Eve but who needed to stay up late anyway? Not like Santa was quietly parking his sleigh on the roof and slide down the chimney or some such nonsense.

"Please. Chimney? I'm a major dork. That doesn't even make sense."

Santa was just an old man in a fat suit who worked holidays at the mall.

Mikey fell asleep, bitterly.

~

It sounded like someone had grabbed a bagful of books and dropped them from the second floor.

"Santa?" Mikey launched to his feet. He was still wearing his stone-washed jeans and alligator polo shirt. Then, he remembered. There is no Santa Claus—there never was. He heard something moving around downstairs. Mom must have fallen asleep in front of the T.V. while watching some late night cop movie.

Mikey's stomach growled immediately. Having skipped dinner, he decided to fix himself a good bowl of Sugar Smacks. Midway down the stairs, he corrected himself. Kids believe in Santa and eat sugary cereals in the middle of the night. Mikey wasn't a kid anymore. He'd have a salad and maybe some V-8.