Red, as in Christmas
Authors Note: Curiously, while this short was finally wrapped up in 2020. I actually began writing it on December 2016, but each year, when I came back to it around December, I missed the deadline and postponed it for another year. What's unique is how every new segment, written year by year (separated by a line) has an entirely different take and direction for the story. Normally one would rewrite and edit, but I left them all 'as is' to be able to see how my style and maturity changes over time with the story.
John woke up to a Christmas Carols' tuned alarm. Bleary-eyed he hit the stop button and swore. “Every goddamn year...” He looked around and saw the green clothes placed on a chair. “Why...” He flipped his phone open and hit up favorites, making a call to Honeysweet. “To you too... I remember asking—no—begging you not to change the alarm tune of my clock this year.” “Yes, yes...” He said and got out of bed. Scratching his ass, he picked at the clothes on the chair. He found a pointy green hat. “A pointy green hat?” “I work at a computer store, not a shopping mall...” “...Which the parents come in and buy for their kids as presents this time a year.” John let out a sigh with admitted defeat. He knew, when she used that particular line, his inability to sway her with his initial arguments had permanently chiseled her decision. He was going to have to wear the green pointy hat. “Yes, yes... My dear.” He rolled his eyes. “I'll try. See you after work. Love you.” Resigned, he draped himself in the green elf suit then stumbled his way into the kitchen and found the cooked coffee pot. It was still warm on its plate. He poured himself a cup and died a little inside. “I thought we changed the goddamn beans.” He swore as he spits the liquid into the sink and added 'NEW GODDAMN BEANS!' to the fridge shopping list. He had found the coffee to taste like radioactive waste fermented in the underground sewage systems of Hiroshima. “I'll just have coffee outside today...” He grumbled his way to the entryway door only to be flabbergasted once more by the woman. “Really?!” He stared down in disbelief. “Really?!” With a groan, John slid his hands across his face and up his hair then toed at the stitched green elf shoes with white little balls at the pointy bit. He took a deep breath, then slipped the elf shoes on. The transformation was complete.
A short distance from John’s computer store was a street hot drink stand. Serving coffee, teas, and hot choco. “Black please.” He said. The woman behind the stand poured coffee from a pot into a mug and handed it to him. He took a sip. Then closed his eyes with a sigh. He spits the coffee like a fountain; painting the pristine white snow of the sidewalk with the black afterbirth that he now feared had permanently left its taste in his mouth. With a grimace, he asked the woman, “just …give me a hot choco.” The hot choco was a pleasant contrast. If only it had caffeine... The store had no employee entrance and he entered it from the front and was met by his boss jolly laugh. “Your girlfriend called,” Freddy said. Laughing between words. “She said you had the brilliant idea of hiring a Santa and act as our elf for the day. I can see you’re dedicated to the last minute gift sales!” John glared at his boss, “did you know that Hitler banned Christmas during his rule of Nazi Germany?” “Good thing we won the war!” Freddy said. “The hired Santa hasn’t arrived yet. Since this is your idea, can I count on you to handle the setup?” “Yes, yes,” John said, now wholly resigned to his fate. Don’t fight it, he thought. It will just end up making things worse.
It took him a good 20 minutes, but the hard work paid off. John had built a stylish throne in the shape of a wagon by using keyboard and mice cartons. Each at a 15% discount Christmas sale. That sale had been Freddy’s idea though. John disagreed. What if people started buying the items, destroying his hard labor? It was almost eleven, and the store was now open to customers. Santa hadn’t arrived yet. As much as John hated the idea of playing an elf, he now dreaded the possibility of doing this whole event on his own. The customer doorbell rang. A big red-dressed figure stepped in. “Santa?” Freddy yelled from inside the storage room. “Ah yes, Santa!” The big red-dressed figure said. “I was requested for a job?” “Is this a joke?” John said as he walked up to greet him, “you’re supposed to be Santa. Not whatever the hell that is.” “Am I doing it wrong?” The big red-dressed figure asked. John sighed, “this is a children’s event, not a dress-up party.” Santa stroked his long black beard and then pulled a slip of paper out of his pocket, “the letter says; ‘Satan requested for store event on the 23rd! You have your own Santa dress. 4 Hours job. $20 an hour.’ Is there something wrong with my dress?” “Satan?” “Yes?” John blinked. Then looked him over again. Indeed. Red skin. Yellow eyes. Crooked nose. Sharp fangs. John scratched the back of his head. “Satan? As in, lord of hell?” “The very same.” “I see...”
Customers came and went, and all stared at the themed mix of the Satan-Santa with clear discomfort. the words on everybody's lips were: 'That's more offensive than clever.' John had desperately thought of an excuse, 'It's a promotional event for BSD!' albeit the customers were not too familiar with the logo of BSD or even BSD itself, but there seemed to be a general acceptance of the concept, just not the dress itself. Satan clearly wasn't cute enough to represent the operative system. Few brought their children, and thankfully in the situations where they did, they were quite resistant to the idea of placing their child on Satan’s lap.
The day was coming to an end without any major incidents and John had started to relax, well, as much as he could, all considering. “So,” John said to Satan. “Why did you accept the job?” “I’m an entrepreneur John, and a decently successful one at that.” “I don’t think entrepreneurs take on low wage side gigs.” “I didn’t come for that, John.” “Then why did you come?” “I came for you, John.” A shiver ran through Johns's body, “what do you mean?” “Make a wish, John.” “I…” “Make a wish.” John closed his eyes. He had occasionally seen Supernatural on TV, and the whole crossroad demon bit seemed to be the play here. For all he knew, a bid for a wish would end with his soul's eternal damnation. He never believed to begin with, but it was hard to argue with reality when it stood in front of him. “I’m not willing to sell my soul.” He said. Satan chuckled, “you know when the last time was someone consulted me on allegorical accuracy?” “No.” “Never.” “So you’re saying I won’t have to trade my soul?” “Of course not. There’s no such thing as a soul.” John thought about it. “How do I know that’s true? People who believe in you, in the faiths, all claim you’re, well, the devil. It’s your method of operation. Trickery, deceit, lies.” Satan sat down on the throne of keyboard cartons with a sigh, “I’m going to level with you, John. When Yahweh came to your planet, he hijacked one of the many faiths at the time and has been building an empire ever since. Like a ball of light, it wasn’t exactly hard for him to pose as a sun deity. Me? Well, look at me. He was already established long before I arrived and all he had to do to make sure I wouldn’t be able to compete was to make me out as the bad guy.” “So wait, you’re both aliens, then?” Satan snickered, “of course we are, what else would we be? There’s no such thing as deities.” “So the devil is all propaganda?” “My given name is Heylel.” “Let’s say for a minute that I believe you. What do you get from fulfilling my wish? What’s the price?” “Satisfaction.” “What?” “I’m immortal, John. My people have been around for longer than your planet has been around. We’re not the only ones who figured out how to tame the universe to our will, it’s just that while we want to do it for our own satisfaction, there are those who just want to rule. Think of us as an open-source advocate, just a lot bigger in scope.” “Is that why the BSD logo is a devil?” “Now you’re getting it.” “So why don’t you just help humanity get on equal terms with the wider community of the universe?” “Is that your wish John?” “Maybe? But it was a question.” “No one simply asked for it.” “Well then, I’m asking for it.” Heylel clapped his hands together and vanished.
The bright sun of Christmas day beamed through Johns's bedroom window, forcing him out of bed. As he approached his window to pull down the blinds, he saw a large structure bigger than the moon fixed in the sky. Now entirely awake, he went into the living room where his girlfriend sat in horror, staring at the TV. He looked at the TV curious what it was all about, and there he saw Heylel, repeating these words, “I am the herald of change, here to bring a new era of enlightenment to fulfill the wish of my friend John. Together, we will deliver a Christmas gift, for all of mankind, to work towards acceptance into the intergalactic fold.”