Santa Clause died.
DEATH skipped along the nothingness.
Santa stumbled along after her. His beard booze-stained in the glow of the afterlife.
“Fuck,” She muttered.
Santa hung next to her, drooling. An Elderly Woman in a High-necked Linen Collar strode up out of the nothing. She had ridiculous hair.
“You can’t take him,” She said, with authority.
DEATH glowered at her. “They don’t even need him anymore. Come on, look at him. If you could have seen where—“
“I know where you found him!” The Woman cut DEATH off, “he is part of it all. Like you and me. As long as one child believes in him. He stays.”
Santa hiccupped behind DEATH. DEATH turned. She glared.
“Don’t you think about moving.”
“He was a good reindeer. I didn’t mean it.” Santa mumbled.
DEATH looked back at The High Collared Woman, astounded.
The High Collared Woman looked sideways at Santa Claus.
“We don’t have a back-up plan yet. I’m sorry.”
DEATH snorted. “This is some bullshit,” she muttered.
“Bullshit…” Santa repeated the word, softer “Bullshit? You stand there talking of bullshit? Do you know how long I’ve been at this? Four-hundred years! Just thought up one day! Just a little thought and then poof, there I was.”
DEATH laughed. “Oh boo-hoo, four-hundred-years? Do you have any idea how long I’ve been at this? Or, for that matter, this uppity cow.”
DEATH jerked her thumb at The High Collared Woman. The Woman did not react.
DEATH advanced on Santa, “and I promise you, you will be long forgotten before either of us get any damn sleep.”
Santa slunk to the ground and began to blubber.
DEATH rubbed her temple and sighed. “Petulant child” she muttered. The Woman in the High-necked Linen Collar was equally unimpressed. She turned to DEATH.
“Sober him up, get him back. He’s got work to do.”
DEATH grabbed Santa by the beard and pulled his face to hers.
“Get a grip.”
She dropped him. She turned to The Woman in the High-necked Linen Collar.
“This will happen to the rest of them, and eventually, you. And I’ll still be here, bored out of my fucking mind, leading specks of sand in the dance to nothingness.”
The Woman in the High-necked Collar shrugged. “I’m sure you’ll fit right in.”
DEATH laughed. “You really are a bitch.”
Merry Christmas from Nikita and Ben. Sorry for killing Santa. If you want to see how he died, click below: