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Shh, it's a secret.
On Christmas A Fat Man Sang
It was a cold night, the snow flakes falling in silence, white and pure.
I waited under the light of the street lamp my fedora tipped forward to hide my face and shield my eyes from that light while smoking my cigarette.
He had to see me. I wanted him to worry.
The jolly fat man passed by when I was half way through my second cigarette, so drunk he couldn't walk straight.
He disgusted me more than I could ever think it to be possible, singing some stupid Christmas carol mumbling it more like all the while stopping to burp and take a sip from a wine bottle.
Fat, drunk assholes finding a job as a mall Santa for Christmas wasn't a crime on itself. This one however...
This was how he got the kids to trust him. Walking into their parents house, sending the kids to bed and robbing everything not nailed to the ground.
The last kid he tricked was dead.
Guess this one didn't go to bed, instead wondering why was Santa stealing mommy's expensive shoes and jewels.
b*****d.
I started walking behind him as he kept singing and wobbling to whatever hole he called home. I wanted to shoot him and be done with it but not somewhere public.
Snow was starting to pile up, up to my damn knees.
I guess he finally heard me following him around because out of the blue and turned to look at me with his fake beard covered in stains and his eyes so red and swollen he probably couldn't see me like more than a blur.
"Hey, can you tell me where I live little boy?" he slurred at me.
Brilliant.
"The North Pole. You're Santa."
The fat piece s**t froze in place, his brain trying to work through the haze of alcohol.
"Oh, ohh that's funny kid." He waddled towards me like a duck. "Wh're you live? Your mommy and daddy got dough?"
I spited my cig to the ground.
"Sure do. They're bakers."
The old man stopped in his tracks again.
"You tryin to be fun-"
The butt of my colt hit him so hard on the chin he didn't even grunt and just toppled over. He really was fat. Had to work quickly, since I had been stupid enough to hit him out in the open even if it was Christmas Eve and the streets looked empty enough.
Good thing the docks were close.
Dragged his a** for a good half hour through the snow. The kid's parents said they wanted him gone, never said to kill him just gone like I was some kind of magician or could find something the police didn't.
I found the same things. Cops knew he did it.
They just didn't give a ********.
No. Some of them did. They just couldn't make the judge say the right words, the one that could put the b*****d behind bars.
Inconclusive, not enough, reasonable doubt, some other scumbags making up an alibi probably in on the dirt and making some scratch of it too.
The docks were empty and the bells of the nearest church three blocks away rang like doomsday was coming.
The fat idiot woke up as I was about to drop him on the cold, black water.
I punched him hard just because I felt like it.
Then I shot him, with the racket the bells made not even I could hear the bang right.
Santa Claus drooped into the water with nasty old splash and sank like a rock.
Started smoking another cig, watched out to see him fight for breath or something but he never came up again. Drowned and gone.
Maybe someone would find him by new years eve.
I turned my back and walked away. Time to spend another Christmas alone.

Doctor_Sunday
Community Member
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