"Santa" is Spanish for "Saint." But guess what? The same letters also spell "Satan." Whoa, that's heavy.
Must our typical mall Santa bravely tiptoe through a mine field each December? Let's peek at the diary of a member of the Union of Real Bearded Santas.
Nov 30 - Santa College was a killer! Flunked reindeer names. I felt so sure about Dopey. Couldn't sing "Away in a Manager" or "Chipmunks roasting on an open fire…." And coal for naughty kids? That is so 1953. Now Santa scolds by giving big, ugly sweaters.
Dec 1 - Arrive at the motel for my out-of-town gig, with Santa suit, hat, and white gloves from the temp agency. Rules to remember: No swearing! Be PC, and sensitive to other cultures! Hey, no problema. Decades ago, I got C+ in high school Spanish.
Dec 3 - Off to a great start. Children shrieking all day in terror at a jolly, fat Stranger-Danger with a hairy face. Hearing aids ain't workin'. How can I lean in to hear kids without looking like Mr. Creepy? Just breathe, stay cool, keep the white gloves in sight.
Dec 7 - Eyeballed my suit in the daylight. Jeez Louise, it's disgusting! Bought a case of antibacterial spray. Considered Evergreen and Fresh Blizzard scents but hit a sale on Reindeer Musk. Each night I turn the suit inside out and spray the hel- holly out of it.
Dec 11 - A little flirting with two curvy nymphs hauling Victoria's Secrets bags. So much giggling. Did they really say they wanted handcuffs for Christmas?? Damn hearing aids.
Dec 13 - Pet Day. Who the fuchsite* dreamed this up? After 17 dogs and 29 cats, I'm covered in hair, and my throne looks like a wicker porcupine in a grand mal seizure. Lords a'leapin', why am I so itchy??
Dec 14 - Chat with a Latina clerk at the pet store. Has she been good? She shrugs, and whispers, "Mejor." Gulp. Was that English or Spanish? May- ?? May-hor?? I pay for the flea collar. I'll be long gone by May (sigh) so don't be teasin' Santa, hear?
Dec 18 - Suit is a sauna due to reindeer musk buildup. Computer games remain wicked cool, but Santa knows zip. I ask kids if they prefer Mario or Pac Man. Oddly, they seem to dislike the question. One of them even yanked out a hunk of beard, the little shi- shepherd boy.
Dec 20 - Pungent Rogaine® ointment on my chin hides the smell of the flea collar. A blonde in a Bratz parka demands some American Girl item called Chucka-nucka. What? "Chucka-nucka!" yells the mom. Oooooh, I say, you probably mean Chanukah!! The eye rolls from Bratz and mom suggest missing frontal lobes. These two jinglebells need serious help, but I can only bring them ugly sweaters.
Dec 22 - Victoria's Secrets duo waltzes by again - helloooo, Prancer and Vixen! The lithe maidens blow kisses until violently repelled by Santa's ripening reindeer aura.
Dec 23 - Over a thousand kids today. Subtract my breaks and we have a solid 41.52 seconds per kid. My suit is sloughing dried reindeer musk like a full-body psoriasis. An Hispanic family stares at the mound of flakes. Mortified, I stammer, "Santa, uh, embarasada." An hour later they're still guffawing over in the food court.
Dec 24 - A little redhead begs me for Butterscotch. So I hand her one from the candy bowl. "No! Butterscotch!" she screams. Sometimes crappy hearing aids are a blessing. Turns out, Butterscotch is a robot pony worth more than my car. And "embarasada" doesn't mean embarrassed. It means pregnant. Huh.
Dec 25 - Planning for a new Santa suit next year. My granddaughter sews her own skating costumes and will enlarge a pattern that would be oh, so coolio for Santa - red satin, backless, with snap-in flea collar.
Till then, Merry ChrisKwanChanumas to all!
*Yes, Sugar Plums, 'tis a real word.
Copyright © 2007 Mary Tompsett
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