by Tiffin
© 1999 Tiffin, all rights reserved
The man dressed in red, padded fat tummy, with the fake white curly beard listened to the child as they whispered what the gift should be. Solemnly he shook his head in acknowledgment, give a huge belly laugh, waited for the elf to snap the moment in time with the Polaroid camera. He gently assisted the child off his lap, then handed the small child a peppermint candy cane sending them on their way back to their mother.
Fake Santa in fake snow in fake wonderland with fake elves all pretending to be something they are not.
Would the child's wish come true? Who knows who cares. I was just an innocent bystander. I only was the one who snapped the photograph,immortalizing it for the future. As Santa signaled for his dinner break, I put the sign 'Back in 30 Hoof-beats' at the gate and entered Santa's cardboard house decorated to look real to children, real looking as long as they didn't touch it.
Sighing as he took off the hat and lifted the wig and beard off his face "Did you know what that last child ask me for?"
"No Jack, but I'm sure you told them you would be sure it was under their tree." Looking in the refrigerator for my paper bag lunch; my attention was not on work but eating. It was an hour and a half pass the normal time we usually took for dinner. It had been one of those frantic days, non-stop with children and their parents perpetuating the myth of Christmas.
"Well they wanted a food basket given to the elderly couple that lived several buildings down from their family in the apartment complex. Strange request from a child that young, don't you think? They even listed the items to put in the basket: cheddar cheese, crackers, a canned ham, two each of apples, pears, oranges, bananas, and a pineapple; plus a package of bologna and turkey lunch meat and whole wheat bread preferably thin slice and a huge can of Campbell's bean stew."
As the meal turned in the microwave I could only stare at the man in the satin Santa suit. "Fucking strange. I bet their mother put them up to it. No kid asks for that sort of thing. They are nothing but greedy little bastards at this time of year; they only want toys."
"No! They said their mom had told them to ask for that silly pokemon doll and they didn't want their parents to know that they wanted this instead." Fingering his bologna sandwich Jack sat in silence.
"Fucking strange."
"Stop saying that."
"Saying what?" Taking a bite of food, the plastic warped fork stopped short of stabbing my tongue.
"Fucking. Its crude to hear it on Christmas Eve."
"Oh fuck you!" Grabbing my bowl of bean stew I turned towards the wall to ignore the elderly bald man who normally cussed worst than any sailor I knew. I was pissed at his holier than thou sanctimonious attitude.
We had been doing this gig the last month so that we could pay next months rent. It was not my idea of fun. The kids screamed, cried, nagged, and complained; their parents bitched about the quality of the photographs and price. Then dealing with those crazy teens. They were ten times the pains in the ass than any parent or screaming kid. How many times did I have to call for security to chase the little bastards down, when they ran off with my elf hat, tossing it back and forth between them as they laughed through the mall?
Thank the heavenly goddess this gig ended in two more hours then we could head back to that crappy little apartment, pay the rent for the next month and find ourselves a new gig to work for February's rent. On our social security we barely could make ends meet. Why didn't I look just the other day through the garbage bins at the apartment complex for any usable food that the neighbors had thrown out? Glancing back at Jack I mentally thought what an ungrateful bastard he was.
"Well now Santa if you're·" spelling the word out so not to hurt his angel like ears "f-u-c-k-i-n-g done there with your meal we need to get back to the dungeon."
The next two hours passed swiftly. I snapped photos of another fifty screaming kids, listened to parents bitch about the price and smiled at them as they carried their wasteful packages through the mall. Finally at 9pm the malls lights flashed and the announcement was heard over the speakers "Merry Christmas to all Santa Monica's Shoppers the mall is now closed. The mall will open on December 26th at 10am."
As weary shoppers hustled to various doors, Jack and I entered the fake Santa's house to change back into our street clothes. Gathering up our few items the mall manager came in with our paychecks. Wishing us a happy holiday he escorted us to the locked doors. Saying bye to the security guard for the last time, we trudged our way to the bus stop.
Arriving back to the dingy apartment I slipped into my faded green robe, opened up a beer, took several large gulps and promptly fell asleep listening to the weatherman who was tracking that fucking Santa's sleigh.