Free Halloween and Other Seasons by Al., Alan M. Clark, Clark Sarrantonio Page A

walking out of the Toy Shop I heard a commotion going on in the courtyard, and was just in time to see a great cheer go up as Santa walked out of his cottage. He looked like the old Santa we all knew and loved. He had a bright clean red suit and cap on, his cheeks were rosy and his beard was brushed and fluffed, his boots were polished to a high gloss and he was rubbing his belly. He even had a sack flung over his shoulder. Tough guy that I am, I almost started to cry for joy; but suddenly my eyes went dry and the cheer died in the middle when he got closer, because the wild look was still in his eyes and that twisted grin was still stuck to his face. When he opened his mouth and growled, we knew nothing had changed. He still looked like a bleached bluebeard.
    “Get ready to roll!” he shouted.
    We all looked at one another, mystified. Was he going to make his rounds looking like that?
    “ I said get ready to roll !”
    Shmitzy stepped meekly out of the crowd. He was trembling like a leaf. “B-but Santa—”
    Santa thundered, “Do what I say, or I’ll string you all up like sides of beef!”
    Five minutes later I had them buffing up the sled and loading piles of empty toy sacks onto the back of it, as per Santa’s instructions. The Toy Shop remained untouched. The reindeer were groomed, the harness cleaned and rigged.
    When all of this was finished, Santa assembled us by the sleigh, which had been pulled out into the courtyard. “Okay, boys,” he said, chuckling sardonically. “It’s time to make our rounds.”
    Momma was laughing, too.
    Poor little Shmitzy stepped out of the crowd. He was still trembling uncontrollably. He pointed at the Toy Shop and the empty sacks in the sleigh. “S-Santa, we—”
    Santa reached out and picked Shmitzy up by his feet, turning him upside-down. He brought him up very close to his face, and opened his mouth wide. For a moment it looked as if he were going to bite Shmitzy’s head off. Then he put him down.
    Shmitzy hurried back into the crowd.
    “Gustav,” Santa said in a low, mellow voice, rubbing his hands together and smiling evilly, “get your crew into the sleigh.”
    I was so scared I hustled the three elves nearest to me into the back with the empty bags. Santa threw his own half-filled sack into the front and climbed in after it. He cracked the reins.
    “Ha ha ha,” he said.
    The take-off was fairly smooth, given the circumstances. Rudolph was still a bit shaken by almost having his nose blown off, but we got off the ground in one piece. It was a clear night with a bright moon, and I looked down as we made our turn over the North Pole. The jolly, festively painted little village of a few days before now looked like an abandoned amusement park: wreckage and near-wreckage everywhere. None of the Christmas trees along the perimeter had been decorated; none of the remaining decorations had been polished. None of the last-minute work had been done. The scene would have made a disheartening air-photo. I shook my head and put up my collar. It was cold in that sleigh.
    Santa laughed diabolically and straightened the sleigh out for the ride south. I was depressed, and the three elves huddled back there with me surrounded by empty sacks didn’t look too cheerful, either. I looked closely at them now: two shivering apprentices, and a third elf bundled up like a mummy with his face covered. I glanced up front; Santa was waving his arms madly, cracking the reins fiercely over the poor reindeer. I wondered what he was going to do.
    The bundled-up elf inched over to me and pulled down the muff covering his face. I almost shouted; it was Fritz!
    He motioned for me to be quiet, and leaned over to whisper in my ear. “Don’t raise your voice, my friend,” he said. “If Santa finds me here I’m sure he’ll throw me overboard.” He whispered that we should move carefully to the back of the sleigh, and we did so. We piled up empty canvas sacks to form a sort of wall.
    “I’ve