Finding Santa Claus

December 19, 2017

I’ve been laughed at for months, years, decades now by an occasional few. And if you believe in reincarnation, I guess a few centuries. I’ve been on a search. Not a search many would endeavor. The ridicule at times makes me want to quit. But when I remember the jolly old man, alone with only elves, bringing joy to many, I persevere. It’s as if I’m in a barren tundra, alone withering. Curled around a fire of hope, I am alone, cold. The fire grows smaller every year, getting bigger for a small portion of the year, until it peaks on that magical day, December 25th.

My grandpa asked me, at the ripe old age nine, “When did you stop believing in Santa.” My older sister snorted when I replied, “well… never”. I was regarded as the dumb younger brother. Never a night went by, when I wouldn’t be singing out my window, to Santa Claus. It didn’t matter whether it was may or september, spring or fall; I sang. And not a whisper of a sing, or a soft ballad. No, I was belting my heart out to my one true hero. While some asked Santa for simply there two front teeth, and others G.I. Joes and Barbies, all I wanted was an action figure of who I considered the greatest person to ever exist: THE Kris Kringle. My parents would yell, my neighbors would call, but if he heard, it’d all be okay. I never received that most treasured of gifts. This serenation started at age eight, and is continued to this day.

I went through several existential crises. If he watched me always, why had he not heard my calls, my pleads for proof of existence. When I saw the “made in china” stickers of my Christmas presents, I was disgusted. Oink Oink you capitalist pig. When I would send him letters, patronizing his existence, but doubting it as well, I wouldn’t get responses. Your move Kringle. But alas, this year holds special hope.  Perusing all the reliable sources, Daily Mail, The National Examiner, The Star, The Onion, Fox, CNN, I found a common thread. All these have myriad stories of K.K. sightings. I just had to connect the dots. I can do it. I CAN do it. I can.

Thus we are brought to this year. I lay awake at night, insomnia from the stress of finals. What I wouldn’t give to have simple visions of lowly sugar plums. Don’t let me sound brash, they’re lowly, but staples of my dreams winters past. The insomnia, I mustn’t lie, is not from finals. I was lying.  I could give less of a hoot for finals. What if Noel passes without incident, what if I don’t see the man in red. I will be heartbroken, but such is life. This year, i have devised a far better plan. I asked last year for a telescope, which i received. It was not for the altruistic, learning oriented leanings. No, it was for my mischievous plan. I’ve been planning for December 25th, 2017, since 2011. It’s been marked in a big red circle, for 6 years.

2011 was a landmark year. It is why I believe. I snuck downstairs, 2:41 a.m. I couldn’t sleep, for I was too excited, when I heard the ringing of the bells. The resonating sound of sweet sweet bells. It was syrup to my ears, punctuated by the beautiful high points of the silvery crack. It was what heaven sounds like, one would imagine. The windswept plains of disbelief were punctuated by the smooth waves and high pitched rings of wonder. I, in ninja like fashion, snuck downstairs. With silence, I crept through my living room. The army crawl came in handy as I slithered in a snake like fashion to just by the doorway, able to see only the crackling fire. I couldn’t see the tree, but i could hear jolly chuckling. I crept forward ever so slightly, and saw a boot. Following the boot was white trim and a holly red suit. Oh my gosh, it was him! As i went further forward, suddenly, I fell asleep. I guess the sandman was in cahoots with claus. Oh aren’t you so sly sandy. Say it ain’t so, but when i awoke, it was christmas morning. My dad was shaking me awake. I was in my bed. How I woke up in my bed, I will never know, one will have to assume that Santa carried me to my room. Okay Kringle, so you can gingerly carry me to my bed, but not leave evidence of your existence. Its maddening really. If just a train could come and take me to the north pole to see Santa, then everything would be all good. Well regardless, Santa is unequivocally real in my mind, I just have to prove he is to others. And to do that, I need evidence.

So in comes my plan. The materials needed are as follows. A telescope- to track. Cookies- to lure. Caffeine pills- to stay awake. And knockout gas- to knockout. I opted to spray the gas on the cookies. The entirety of the operation is set up. The telescope has been perched, rigged to track movement. We are a go. Now, letswait.

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