That Time Of The Year

Little Ruthie hid behind the stairs and watched the big red man tinkering beside the tree.

It was a little past 2AM and her parents had been asleep for ages. She'd managed to stay up solely because of the large shot of coffee she'd managed to slop for herself from mommy's espresso maker.

The big red man grunted once and Ruthie shivered with delight - it was true! Johnny had kept on saying Christmas was a big lie but Ruthie knew now; she'd tell him!

There was a soft clump as the big red man overturned the small plate of cookies that had been lying on the table beside the tree.

Ruthie finally dredged up the courage to go up to him.

"Mister Santy Claus, sir?"

The big red man started upright and clonked his head on a heavy ornament hanging from the tree; the branch from which it had been hanging rent into two with a dry crack. He jumped again before finally turning to face the little girl.

"For fuck's sake," he said testily. "Not again."

Ruthie gasped - Santy had just said one of the Big Bads! She opened her mouth to reprimand him when the razor finally caught the glint of firelight.

Ruthie choked a little then.

"Hold still, kid. This won't hurt at all."

"But-but that's what Mister Sandman does!" Ruthie found the glint of the straight edge almost hypnotic. "You're supposed to be a good guy, Santy!"

"Those old myths were badly in need of an update," the big red man said. Up close, his beard was more faded yellow than white, his clothes a congealed red rather than the bright crimson she'd seen from the stairwell. "Besides, this would probably mean one less brat to lose my sleep over next year."

Ruthie tried to scream but the big red man was surprisingly fast.

Then it was over as suddenly as it had begun.

The big red man wiped his razor on his sleeve. The motion bore an easy fluidity that only comes from practice.

Then he set off across the room towards the chimney, taking care to pick up the grubby parcel he'd left beside the tree.

There was a spring in his step that had not been there before, and if you listened closely you could hear him humming the same monosyllable over and over.
"Ho," said the big red man. "Ho. Ho. Ho."

Then he said to a radio clipped to his vest: "What do you mean you're nipping out for a drink? Come back before I skin ye bastards alive."

The radio squawked, after which it said: "Go fuck yerself, Nicky."

The big red man said: "I'm getting you neutered first thing tomorrow, Rudolph."

The cobbled chimney protested as the big red man clambered fitfully in again.

Then nobody said anything at all.