"Red Rogue" by Sophie ´Photosoph´ Matthews

"Go on Junior -tell Santa what you want for Christmas," Duke Senior called. Quietly he slipped a small green piece of paper to a passing elf. The elf eyed him suspiciously and scanned the money...
Suddenly the little person's mouth flew open. He remembered to close it, and did so. Sparing one glance to the generous man -who smiled a little wider- he tucked the hundred dollar bill into his wallet and was gone so fast it was hard to believe that he was ever there.

The smile on Santa's face froze. One of his elves was free. Ever so slightly, he nodded.
Two small, green-clad figures disappeared into the crowd.
"Now," he turned to Duke Junior, "What would you like for Christmas?"
There was something not quite right here, the ten year old knew that. But he couldn't take his eyes off the bearded stranger. Last Christmas he'd begun to suspect that perhaps... just perhaps, mind you... that Santa... wasn't...
...real.

Something happened, in that instant. As the doubt danced across his mind, the smiling face changed. Something in the blue eyes grew blurry... indistinct... and then-
Junior shook his head quickly. No; he was sitting on Santa's lap, and there could be no explanation except that this stranger definitely was Santa.

The jolly man relaxed. That had been a close call. Too close...
He eyed Duke Senior and his wife. They were smiling. Smiling. That was HIS job. And that man had freed an elf... almost.
Santa smiled. He could just hear it. Beneath the pounding of shoes on the floor... Beneath the rustle of plastic, the squeak of shopping cart wheels, the murmurings and the mutterings...
Someone was kicking, struggling, and fighting with a smothered voice -fighting for their life.

A voice disturbed him.
"I will have an ice cream machine, two swans and three chickens for the garden, and a hamster. Don't forget the mile long winding tunnel with remote sensors and excercise pens that would be of interest to the hamster and, of course, to myself."

Santa was staring at him. The kid had the nerve, the absolute nerve to demand all that of him. It was like he didn't truly believe... didn't believe that being good got you the goods, and being bad got you... the coal.
A flicker of a smile danced through his eyes, a different type of enjoyment than he usually let show there.
Ah yes.... the coal... Memories of fire, and children, the two merged together, danced through his head like sugarplum fairies.
But he had to give the kid a chance. It was a test... and it would be, perhaps, better if Santa didn't have to lose another...

"Good little boys wouldn't demand so much of Santa."
Junior turned around. The man was still talking to him? Didn't he know he had places to be, people to meet?
He looked back with an irritated stare. "What?"
"Good little boys wouldn't demand so much of Santa," the festive red man repeated. There was a strange quality to his voice, one you'd miss unless you were listening to it carefully...
The kid didn't know how to reply. No one had challenged him like this before...
"Uh... can I have a bike too?" The words were out before he could take them back.

"Hurry up, move along!" a man-sized elf interrupted. "There's more gals and boys to see Santa, y'know."
Junior gave the man a quick nod, and departed.

Santa gave the tall elf a funny look. One of... mine?
A smaller elf caught his eye, and shook his head before turning his eyes quickly away.
Ah... not one of mine.
The actor was addressing him. "Hey... your guys said you were filling out for ol' Barney?"
Santa said nothing.
"Yeah... well." The guy handed him some change. "There's your pay. I'm not giving you extra for bringing your own elves. But... by the way, why'd you come? I dunno a lot o' people who'd take the job, myself..."
For a small moment Santa stopped in thought. "The children."

The actor turned away, not without a brief shudder. The old guy could be completely harmless... But it was something about the way he'd said that.... 'the children' had almost sounded like... 'my children'.
"He's just a harmless old man doin' his job," he told himself, moving away. "Besides, what can I say to anyone? No evidence... just-" he looked back, briefly, over his shoulder. The red man was still there... smiling innocently his way.
"Just feelings," he finished, moving on.

There were a lot of bad little boys this Christmas. Santa was going to be very busy.
He jingled the coins in his hand. Still... that pay might give him enough to buy some gasoline.
...Gasoline worked faster than coal for bad little boys...