SANTA'S CHRISTMAS

Ruby and Billy rushed to the living room to find a modest pile of Christmas presents under an artificial Christmas tree.  Mummy and Daddy followed, smiling wearily.  It had been a tough year.

The children started with their stockings, each contained a novelty pencil, a tangerine and a tennis ball.  They looked at each other and continued; surely the bigger presents would be more exciting.  But Grandma had given knitted jumpers and hats and Nanna had provided painting sets.  The last hope was the present from Mummy and Daddy.  Ruby thought she remembered there had been more than one each last Christmas.  Billy opened a cheap looking trainset and could barely hide his disappointment.  For Ruby there was a baby doll with no house, accessories or cot to go with it.

They turned to glare at Mummy and Daddy.  At that moment the front door was knocked down.  Mummy and Daddy turned, mouths falling open and the children whooped with delight.  In he came, red coat and black boots, white fur trim and long flowing beard.  He carried no sack though and gave no cheery hohoho.  “Mummy and Daddy!” he cried, “Billy and Ruby wrote to me at the beginning of December.  Billy wanted a bicycle.  Ruby wanted a princess palace.  They both wanted an X-box.  This pile of crap here, what is it?  Jumpers, tangerines?  They’re not presents!”

“We’re hard up,” Mummy whispered.
“And where’s your presents to each other, Mummy and Daddy?  Has the romance gone?  And what is there for dinner?”  Santa marched through to the kitchen and opened the fridge; the children ran after him and clutched at his red coat.
“What the hell is this?” demanded Santa, “turkey, potatoes and carrots?  Is that ALL?  Where’s the stuffing?  The sausage meat wrapped in bacon?  The WINE?”
Mummy burst into tears and Daddy put his arm round her; “Look ...” he began.
“I can fix this,” Santa interrupted, “the children needn’t remember anything.  I’ll put the clock back to early December.  You can get this right.”
“Do you want us to skip a mortgage payment or something?” demanded Daddy, “Jesus!”
Santa became very still, his face went as red as his coat and his eyes flashed a demonic shade of green; “Don’t say that name to me!  He isn’t what Christmas is about!  It’s all about me!  I say that how much you love your children shows in how much you spend on them - the amount of presents and the quality of those presents.  It’s about gorging your faces with luxury food and drinking your fill of wine!  Now, do you want me to turn back the clock or not?”
“Yes please!” cried Billy and Ruby.
Mummy and Daddy nodded.

Ruby and Billy rushed downstairs to the living room to find an enormous pile of Christmas presents under a beautiful pine Christmas tree.  Mummy and Daddy followed, smiling wearily.  The stockings were crammed with toys and sweets; there was Billy’s bicycle, Ruby’s princess palace and an X-Box.  There were DVDs, dolls, books, puzzles and Lego.  Mummy got her favourite perfume and Daddy a Breitling watch.  Waiting in the kitchen was a sumptuous turkey feast to be served with champagne or red wine when the rest of the family arrived.  The day was one long party, although Mummy and Daddy were at times quiet.  On Boxing Day; the children played with their bonanza of toys, while Mummy and Daddy whispered furiously at each other in another room.

The day after Boxing Day, Mummy went out, taking Daddy’s watch with her.  The children played with Billy’s bike in the garden and the postman called.  Billy was doing wheelies and wanted his father to watch.  “Daddy!” he called.  There was no reply.  Then, from inside the house there was a crash and an audible crack.  The children ran in to find Daddy hanging by the Christmas tree, a letter from the bank under his feet.