When, and How, Did You Learn About Santa?

Being Santa, one can only imagine, is a big responsibility. Little kids everywhere adore you--and older kids question your very presence. Neighbor Tom Prendergast, whose name you may recognize as a frequent photo contributor to the blog, relates this true story about the day when he learned how much pressure there could actually be on a certain lousy Santa:

I had just turned seven and had some serious doubts about Santa's existence.

It was the Saturday before Christmas, and I had just received my weekly allowance, which I intended to spend at the local Woolworth's, something I did every week.

As I was ready to leave, my mother asked if I would pick up her order from the butchers and bring it right back. She gave me an envelope with the money for the order and I went to Falco's, our neighborhood store.

When entering the store Mr. Falco greeted me with a big, "Hey Tommy, how are you doing?" He mentioned the order will be ready in a few minutes and would I make two deliveries, which were just around the corner. "Sure I'll do it."

I made the deliveries and received a dollar tip from both of the customers, when returning to the butchers Mr. Falco had my mother's order ready and gave me a dollar for making the deliveries.

WOW, I now had four dollars--three on tips plus my allowance.

I brought the order home and left for Woolworth's and decided I'm not going to spend the money on me, but I will buy my mother a well deserved present.

While entering the store I was spotted by one of my classmates, who was with his mother, standing on Santa's line. He asked me to wait on line with him. I told him I had already seen Santa in the city and didn't want to see him again.

His mother said, "This is the real one," and I should comply with her son's request to join him on line.

Well, I gave in and waited my turn to see the Old Guy, which turned out to be a disaster.

My turn came, and as I approached him I noticed his beard was drooping and his mustache was covering his lips. As he pulled me on to his lap, I noticed his bloodshot eyes, and when he asked, "WHAT DO YOU WANT FOR CHRISTMAS SON," I was almost knocked out by his booze-laden breath.

That was the clincher. There is no Santa Claus. I reached over and pulled his beard down and, let loose, it smashed into his face. I took off for the street.

Unfortunately, he caught me on the avenue and started cursing and choking me, much to the alarm of mothers who were Christmas shopping. When they started screaming, "Leave that skinny kid alone," he stopped and stumbled back into the store.

I went back home, and for some reason I neglected to tell Mom about the incident.

About two hours later she said, "Get ready, we're going to the 5&10 store."

"Mom, I feel tired, I'll stay home and will see you when you get back."

"No, you're coming with me."

We entered Woolworth's, where I was almost choked to death a few hours earlier, and I stood as close to her side as possible, hoping not to  detected by a rampaging Santa. Much to my delight, his seat was empty.

Mom called over the manager and asked, " Where's Santa?"

She replied while staring at me, "HE LEFT AS THERE WAS AN INCIDENT."

Thank God she didn't mentioned I was the INCIDENT.

Thanks to Tom for sharing--I just hope he's gotten over the "incident." If you'd like to share a holiday story, good or bad, send them our way!