Santa's Big Problem

1

Santa had been addicted for at least twenty-eight years. This problem of his may have been the best attempt towards him saving a lot of demanding children from being bored forever, but Mrs. Claus got quite angry. It had gotten so bad, that she recently decided that they needed to spend time apart in different regions of the North Pole. With no cure in sight, Santa gave up his love for her because of it. With one of the oldest couples in history drifting apart, Christmas was soon to be ruined for eternity. 2

It all started in the year 1976. Popular, creative toys such as Mr. Potato Head and Barbie were flocking the stores. There weren't many new toys roaming about, so all the kids were arguing over those classic ones. And with the population at an all time high, the elves began to panic. Toy-building requirements were rising like crazy! There was nothing these short, jolly creatures could do. With little money and little time, those elves needed a budget.3

Santa saw the problem. He analyzed the problem. He wrote down the problem. He even checked his list twice. But with the low income, it was just too naughty, not nice. He was forced to try new solutions, so he went out on his journey. Heading to every nice kid's house for advice, Santa came up with no solutions. All the good children seemed to be broke and unsuccessful. If the kids would have been rich, they would not have been good for an entire year just to earn a single, lousy present. 4

With his unsuccessful plan, Santa was forced to visit the bad people's homes. After being egged, toilet papered, snow balled, and shot in his right arm; Santa eventually came to a bad child who was willing to compromise.5

"I'll tell ya how to make some dough, but ya can't git me a stupid lump a' coal dis Christmas." said the boy.6

"Fine," said Santa. "What would you like?"7

The boy rubbed his chin and thought really hard about what he could convince Santa to get for him. He kept his mouth quiet and let his thought process go to work. A few chuckles later, he finally had the perfect gift.8

"I want a pair of dem pink, leather panty-hose," said the boy.9

"What?" asked Santa. "Why on Earth would you want those?"10

The boy got offended easily. An evil frown grew onto the boy's face and his voice changed from a squeaky, high pitch to a very demonic, low pitch.11

"You want dat damn money, biotch?" screamed the boy. "Oh, den you're gettin me dem pink panty-hose. Now, fo yo money, try da casino on #1734 PinkPanty Lane."12

A confused Santa was in shock as to how this kid knew so much. How would he know about that road and the casino that lay around it? ... Considering the road's name, it didn't take long for Santa to realize why it was so familiar to the bizarre boy. This smart boy was certainly a bad child, but at the same time, he was really, really good.13

After signing a contract with the little menace and also checking it twice, Santa headed out for PinkPanty Lane. The casino was grand. Lights shone from the roof and from the floor, lighting the entire area. With the loud music and bright colors, this place could have been seen from miles distant.14

When he walked inside, he was a little offended with how such a great place had such few decorations for the holidays. He put that behind him and sat down at a black jack table. He rubbed his hands together and grinned. After distributing cards to so many gambling children each Christmas, he practically owned the game. It was now time for him to test his skills and win all the money he needed for his special day to be saved.15

"Place your bets!" said the dealer.16

Santa grabbed a stack of five hundred dollars worth of chips and slid the entire amount into the center of the green, velvet table. He decided that he should win a large amount at first and then bet small towards the end.17

The dealer dealt Santa two cards. The first card was a king of diamonds, and the second card was a queen of hearts. He had gotten a twenty on his first hand. He sure had luck on his side.18

The dealer dealt himself an ace and a mysterious second card. He offered all the players insurance incase he had blackjack.19

"Insurance?" said Santa. "I don't have the time to deal with insurance. Plus, we at the North Pole disagree with all that hodge-podge. Once the gift is in their house, they can't swap it back for their money."20

"Uhh... I meant for the game," said the dealer. "Do you want insurance?"21

"Oh, oh... no. I'm fine." he said. He took a deep breath and let out a big grin. His infamous, jolly red cheeks poked their ways out. He was content. The odds were in his favor. There was no use for him to waste possible money.22

The dealer flipped over his second card to show a jack of clubs. The dealer won. He pulled out his hand and grabbed Santa's stack of chips. Santa had just lost a good amount of his needed money.23

Santa thought to himself about what he had just done. He wanted to stop. He did not want to go bankrupt and lose everything. He decided that it would have been better to quit and go home. He tried to stand up and walk away, but something stopped him. This problem, this horrible thing, kept him in his seat. It was his disorder. Santa was obsessive compulsive.24

It was obvious that he had it when he felt the urge to constantly check everything twice. He would check his list. He would count his reindeer. And when he counted all the women's clothing, Mrs. Claus got a little nervous. But anyway, something was wrong with his brain. Messages were sent to him. These messages told him that everything would be better if it were done in sets of two. Although he could control it most of the time, he could not do it at the casino table. He had a force telling him to repeat his bet. He just would not feel good until he did. He tried to fight it. He told himself that he was much stronger than any stupid psychological disorder. He stood tough. He wasn't going to let it get the best of him.25

After going all-in and losing all his money, Santa had pretty much ruined Christmas for everyone. It was not his fault, it was his disorder's fault. It forced him into the stupid act. Santa and his crew had nothing. He could not even afford that stupid pair of pink panty-hose... which was quite unfortunate because his butt was kicked in a dark alley by a twelve yerar old who wore brightly colored thongs. 26

Santa felt horrible. He felt so bad, that he resigned, abandoning Christmas. And with him gone, the song "Silent Night" gained a whole new meaning.27

Since the incident, he has spent his time in therapy, coping with his problems. As it was already mentioned, his wife temporarily split up with him. And since that tragic year, Christmas has been a hoax. People have been hired to dress up as him in public malls. Parents have been putting presents underneath their children's tree. And hasn't anyone noticed how small chimneys have been lately? Poor Santa. Poor, POOR Santa.28