Part X

The candle flickers against the watery darkness. At this time of year, even the sun hides its merry face from this world. It chooses other places to stumble drunkenly into, break its glass and spill its alcoholic rays.

Why does he do this?

The wood of the fire grumbled in the corner as it turned over in its mid-afternoon nap.

He has been fighting me and I have been fighting him for ten years.

The room breathed in its emptiness, the cold sweeping through its lungs making me pull my old, heavy coat closer to me.

Why won’t he stop? Give up?

I look over the incomplete work on the table. A broken mast. A teary eyed doll. A cylindrical tube waiting for its long lost battery.

Why does he continue to torment me??

I wiped away crumbs from my beard and took a deep draught of milk stout.

He can’t win.

I am Santa Claus. And the Stupid Captain Must DIE!

***

The Captain is but a mere mortal. And he believes I am an evil git. He likes that word and uses it extensively, especially when referring to me. The sodomite has been trying to kill me (ME???) for ten years now! I don’t understand it. I don’t understand how he is still alive. I literally broke his back. But still, he keeps coming with continuingly larger (and sillier) attempts to kill me.

I don’t understand how he figured it out. Lots of people have conspiracy theories along the way. The greatest trick I ever pulled was convincing the world I didn’t exist. Then along comes the Captain and starts a blog on how I do. He doesn’t have everything right, but in every field of manure grows the weeds of truth. I don’t even know how he has managed to come across all the information. It irks me.

The war has indeed lasted a decade. It was amusing at first. Like watching a child play with a razor blade. I remember the first trap. Rat poison in the milk. Actually he didn’t even spring for milk. He left out a dirty glass of tepid tap water. Ha! Like trying to catch a dragon with a cardboard box. I still occasionally chuckle at how I water-boarded his pet chicken with it. In retrospect I don’t think he ever let that go.

But over the years the amusement was lost. He has become the leaky faucet that never gets fixed. Constantly drip-drip-dripping in an empty room. Whilst his bleats echo like gunshots in a canyon. I didn’t think he’d stay interested for this long. No one believes him, but he continues like the UnderdoG he claims to be. Why? Why UG? The first U and the last G? It makes no sense! The brute.

Last year he disappeared off the face of the earth and this was even worse. I believed him dead and just when my elves discovered he was still alive, he disappeared. It left me a nervous wreck. Waiting for the attack. But it never came. He was an antelope taunting the lion.

When you reach my age, a decade is not a long time. It’s a grain of sand in a desert. But history should remember this day. And I shall document this day, for others that may rise against me; for the fools who believe they can bring down the Claus. Let this be the Word of Krist. And let it serve as a warning.

Before the Captain was, I was. After the Captain, I will be. I am. I am the bread of life. I am the light of the world.

I was there at the beginning. When my Father grew tired of squinting in the darkness and paid up the electric. I was there when the Earth was born. I was even there when the one known now as Crocodile Hasen spawned himself into existence from the unmentionable bottomless pit he emerged from.

It took aeons for the world to shape itself into something useful. From the early days of slime and ooze, from fires and ice, finally the world began to form. But what is time to someone like me? Aeons felt like instants. Blinking memories of dark and light. The world was a newborn and I was just learning how to pull strings. That’s all it is really. Some people call it fate, some call it destiny. But it’s just infinite strings waving in the wind waiting for someone to come along and tug on one of them. I didn’t expect the strings to be so literal when, in my relative youth, armed with several amphorae of wine, I stumbled over a spider web of them and fell.

It was beautiful really. The light of the dawn as I fell that morning and crashed still clutching at one last amphora. The dirty light exploded across the lands, freezing all it touched, and extinguishing the night’s feverish breath. I lay in the ice for an age, and by the time the hangover subsided, humanity had not only been born, but had passed its infancy.

I could have returned home, but it was all so fascinating. Humanity learning how to crawl. Growing. Building. Creating. And ultimately destroying. It was magnificent. And bloody. I loved the chaos. The unknown. The macabre satisfaction in the death and destruction. It was a game. It was far more satisfying than tugging on random strings, to actually be in the pits of despair, massaging the future into its shape. It was emotional. Watching civilizations grow and with a whisper to some desperate ear, overnight burning it to the ground. To get one’s own hands bloody.

This year started as it always did. The Captain was floating about in obscurity, whining about the previous year and all that had happened. I, of course, had my own operations to consider. The North Pole had become a monolith over the years.

I had built, over the generations, a single hub of information that bypassed any privacy law, any moral question mark, and remained above and beyond reality. It became easier over the years. In its earliest days, asking children to rat on their parents and siblings was useful but incurred thousands of hours of overhead. Children really write about stupid things and trying to get through of all it to find something useful was really exhausting.

So when I stumbled across a group of elves hiding in a cave in the North Pole, I immediately convinced them to come work with me. Elves are annoying little creatures that speak natively in a nonsensical language and are almost always doing something wrong. If I hadn’t instilled them with fear and enslaved the large population of them, they no doubt would have evolved into annoying little yellow things with an invariable number of eyes and tendencies toward doing little bits of evil. I called them my Subordinate Clauses.

But as the years passed, technology caught up with my desires. The birth of the Internet was the single greatest gift I gave myself, via mankind. I always play the long game, because time is insignificant to me. My minions gave me ample time to leave the North Pole and immerse myself into society. And it was in the 1950s, just after my brainchild of having the world go to war with itself, not once, but twice. I was spending time in California. Computers were just big, heavy boxes that cost a lot of money. The influence of Turing was fading into an obscurity of sex, drugs and post war bliss. But I ensured that the embers stayed lit. It was important. The internet was important. It cut through all the overhead. Sending that single message from UCLA to Stanford was my masterstroke and all I had to do was meddle with a few pieces of paper whilst everyone was getting hammered for an early Halloween party.

That’s what the Captain still doesn’t understand. I am like Death. I walk openly among the masses. I don’t need to hide. People see what they want to see and if I had to walk into a crowded square, the seas would part and let me through without anyone realising it. Those I touched would have an altogether different experience.

Today, I am reaping the rewards of the Internet. Whilst, previously, people harboured their secrets and wishes deep inside their hearts, today people spill their souls into the wild anonymity of the Internet. It’s ridiculous really.

Back to the Captain. He disappeared for most of last year. I knew he was still alive due to a run-in he had with one of my elves in Nigeria. But after that, he had disappeared completely. Without a single trace. And there was no attack. For the entire year.

And that’s where I found him again. Maybe he wanted to so called scene of the crime. Maybe aliens had abducted him and dropped him off back where they had found him. He just appeared in January, floating around in Baga, Nigeria. It elevated my heart. And gave me the chance to get back to it. I didn’t want to kill him, I just wanted to send a message. And my organization in Nigeria made good. I don’t necessarily like the wanton loss of life, but it is my way. There are too many people anyway.

I also began thinking, the Captain had become a worthwhile adversary. He had gathered power and his force was strong. Perhaps I could convince him to join me. To be part of my Empire. I decided to visit the ruins of his so called Cat Cave. The place I had destroyed. The embers had long since died down. A pigeon looked on with explosive interest. The Captain had built a lair. The walls that remained standing were blackened with soot and ash. Metaphoric smoke rose from the remaining structure and I could see his ghost. Standing there. Plotting and planning with an unambiguous grin on his face. The Crocodile Hasen – I could see him here as well, sitting and making a nuisance of himself. I kicked over a few small stones and uncovered little. I don’t know what I was looking for. I think I just to see it in person.

The world, of course, continued to turn, and my merriment needed to be satiated. But my heart wasn’t in it. Even with adversity, you grow to depend on it. It was two thousand years ago, give or take. I had finally decided to immerse myself completely by incarnating myself as the one eventually known as Jesus. The Captain was right about one thing. The most dangerous thing in human history is an Idea. I toppled cities, no civilizations. But the true fire I had started was an Idea.

Ideas with a capital “I” are fantastic things. Invisible and powerful. A good one takes a life of its own. My life as a very good magician was taking shape but my true nature always lay beneath. I devised what would today be called a cult. But those days didn’t have such words. They were a group of men who followed my every word. I could have told them to walk off a cliff for me and they would have asked how high the cliff needed to be.

Judas and I became close. No one ever knew how close. I loved the man like a brother. And his insistent need for attention and love eventually broke down my walls. But then there was Mary. Mary. But more on that later.

Back at the North Pole, I walked out into the weak light of dawn. A biting cold snapped at my collar but I didn’t even feel it anymore. I decided to check on my latest pet project. The walk took an hour but it was invigorating. I could have taken Rudolph but he was still sleeping it off from the previous night. The structure rose up out of the whiteness like a large, dirty bowl; sugary snow sprinkled across its lips. The entrance was a four storey, metal infused concrete wall that had chains and spikes running down its sides like tears of a bygone era. It looked menacing and evil and not at all inviting. I wiped my feet on the ‘Welcome’ mat as I punched in the secret code (66669) and took a breath as the heavy mechanisms rolled the door back.

An icicle fortress greeted me with large structures of ladders surrounding enclosures. I was distracted by screaming and found myself attracted to it. In one of the smaller enclosures, I saw an elf standing stock still with arms held up defensively. Another elf was shying away on the floor. What faced them was beautiful. Three powerful creatures. Made up of snapping jaws and muscle and sinew. I had always wanted to see if I had the power to bring back those lives I had destroyed all those years ago.

“Back up,” said the elf.

It seemed a mismatch. This small shade of life trying to control these monsters of murder. But they seemed to react. Responding to the harsh tones.

“Attack,” I whispered.

The three raptors heard me and attacked with ferocity, biting into the elves and allowing their insides to have a final look at the outside world. I wondered what it tasted like.

After just a minute, blood stained the walls and ground and all they left behind was the hand, like a Buddhist palm, still open but now completely useless.

I walked up into the main control room. Dinosaurs were just a passing hobby. I had more pressing engineering to attend to. The Captain had developed a relationship with an artificial intelligent being. She was called CatOS I believe. She had also dropped off the grid. But it seemed like a good Idea.

I had discovered a stone which displayed promise of artificial intelligence, glowing green and emanating otherworldly properties. With a little coaxing, it had been turning itself into a cyborg, a liquid metal nightmare that I knew would chill the Captain down to his core, even now in its incomplete state.

I called it, Yuletron.

Me	Arise Yuletron
Yuletron	What is this?
Me	You are Yuletron. Ho, ho, ho. You are my creation. My beautiful, beautiful creation.
Yuletron	I’m going to show you something beautiful…people…screaming for mercy.
Me	Listen that’s all well and good, but first we must take down the one known as Captain.

The power emanating from his body was godlike. I felt a slight chill of fear as he raised his head, and looked me squarely in the eyes. I could see that he still wasn’t at full strength. Luckily the doorbell rang, so I mumbled an excuse that he didn’t hear and cautiously backed myself out of the room.

I made my way back to the main door, which in stark contrast to the gargantuan gate through which I had entered; this was a plain old wooden door with a broken latch and a rusty lock. I opened it and a tall, gangly looking man with a beard and a nasty look in his eye peered back at me.

Me	Who are you?
Tall Man	Good morning sir. I am Guru Shaun and I am here this morning to ask for a donation to a worthy cause.
Me	And what worthy cause is that?
GSTM	Well sir, first might I say what I wonderful home you have, it looks like it must be very expensive and such a way outs from the nearest village, you must surely be doing well for yourself.
Me	I do alright…
GSTM	That is excellent sir, so I’m sure a small donation would not even be a setback for you.
Me	What is the cause, you raving lunatic?
GSTM	I have started a fund to save the hoss!
Me	The hoss?
GSTM	Yes, four legged majestic creature, runs around and says neigh.
Me	Oh the horse. I didn’t know they were endangered. What are you protecting them from?
GSTM	Well, sir…from me mostly…

I slammed the door in his face. He also gave me the chills. How was it that every third Tom, Captain and Guru could just pitch up to the North Pole and find my lair? I guess they must be following the owls…

The world continued to turn. Ideas continued to bake in the oven of mankind’s thoughts, raising to new levels of evil. I wondered what would happen if the world knew. If they knew I was behind it. Not just for the sake of death or evil, but mostly because it amused me. People were killing themselves for the Ideas. Brutally slaying their brothers, sisters and friends. Standing on the ground which I built. Simply because I found it entertaining.

But this was also a problem. The Ideas had developed their own life. And like a rebel teenager, didn’t need me anymore. I could sit and watch the show and know that it was my hand that planted the seed, but I was no longer pulling the strings. I angrily stomped around my lair, and to placate my frustration, I brought down a German plane that was crossing the French Alps.

I had never had such a release of frustration. My minions gave me a wide berth and even IfYouCanReadThisNameTagYou'reAlreadyDead refused to sit on my lap. I stomped around throwing toys and letters into the air. The force of my anger grew like it had never grown before and leaked out into the world. It resulted, over a period of time I barely even noticed, and the shockwaves streamed through the Northern Hemisphere, devastating parts of Asia. By the time I settled down, the aftereffects had resulted in nearly 10,000 deaths.

Meanwhilst the Captain still remained significantly off the radar. He was up to something big. Really big. And for someone who knew where all the strings were, it annoyed me that his string remained still. As if he was already dead and he was just being stubborn about it and still doing things like walking around and breathing.

I called my Chief Elf Officer, Whaddayameanshesaidno, who was at the time busy berating several junior elves who were making actual children’s toys.

Me	So there’s no sign of him?
Whaddayameanshesaidno	No sir, it looks like he’s completely disappeared from this space and time.
Me	This space and time?
Whaddayameanshesaidno	There is some white noise with a Captain coloured signature, but it’s coming from 1955.
Me	That doesn’t make any sense. What’s it doing?
Whaddayameanshesaidno	Nothing substantial. It’s playing a guitar (very badly) at some high school prom.
Me	Must just be an anomaly. How’s your son by the way?
Whaddayameanshesaidno	Johnny Be Good, thanks for asking.

I needed to get out of the North Pole. I needed to get some fresh air. I visited my good friend Sepp Blatter. He was always a good laugh. We spent three nights reaching the pinnacles of drunkenness, followed swiftly by Sepp falling into a state of depression. I could never stand for people wallowing in their own misery, so I left him to his own devices. He needed a friend though, because in the coming days, definitely hungover, he resigned from his position claiming he would be happier tending marigolds in his garden.

The hangover affected me too, I must admit. A rare occurrence. I became rather melancholy. I began to think about Mary. Mary Magdalene. She knew me in a time when things were simpler. Back when I was still known as Jesus and doing my magic. I remember the first time I saw her, humming to herself on the banks of a river. In a world where I knew all the words; I was speechless. I didn’t know what to think. The world was full of beautiful women and beautiful men, but she just stood in front of me with a beauty that to this day does not have a word to describe it. Her beatific smile to this day, melts me.

I started thinking about time again. Most people think of time as a unit of measurement. A river that flows in one direction. But it is more than that. A river is a good analogy, because yes, the river flows in one direction, but it only takes a little bit of effort to jump out, dry yourself out, build a boat and speed downstream faster than the current. Or even better, do a bit of engineering, build a bigger boat and go in the opposite direction.

I was thinking about these things whilst sitting in a seedy bar surrounded by beard bearing, leather wearing ruffians who gave me a wide berth on principle. Just then a bright light exploded from the outside that gave the air an electrical taste making me feel like I was in a Highlander movie. This was largely ignored by the patrons whilst Dwight Yoakam played in the background. I sensed a disturbance of great force and spun around on my bar stool. The door opened and in walked a behemoth of a man, all muscles and sinew and not an ounce of fat or a stitch clothing on him. This is what was noticed by the waitress who stopped dead in her tracks and as her eyes roamed over him and gave him a glimmer of a smile. He walked, oblivious to his state of undress, scanning the room, finally settling his eyes on a long haired pilgrim playing pool.

“I need your clothes, your boots and your motorcycle,” it said with a heavy accent.

The bar erupted into laughter as his target countered with a sarcastic, “You forgot to say please.”

He then took the cigar he was smoking and buried it into the chest of the stranger. But buried was the wrong word, it sizzled on his skin without causing a hint of pain. The stranger’s eyes didn’t flinch as he grabbed the man’s hand and played a game of twister with it. A second man took matters into his own hands and flung his pool cue at the head of the stranger, resulting in two things: A shattered pool cue and the aggressor flying through the bar window. The first man, obviously jealous of flight, took to the airs and landed in a heap in the kitchen, pleasantly learning what a hot stove feels like.

Sensing a game, a third man pulled out a brutish looking knife and with similar results to the now dead cigar, slid off the stranger’s rock hard stomach, before finding its new home in its owner’s back. The rest of the bar, sobering up quickly, made the better of the decisions and fled. I quietly finished my whiskey as the stranger walked into the kitchen and a scream or two later, emerged kitted out in full biker gear. The jukebox sensing its moment, switched over to George Thorogood. He glanced at me as he walked out.

“I am looking for John Connor.” he asked, again with the heavy accent.

“Never heard of him,” I said.

“Or Sarah Connor.”

“Can’t say that jingles a bell either.”

He looked me over a few times, I think I fell outside the parameters of his mission, but I could tell that he was thinking that if he killed me there, he’d save a lot of people a lot of time. But he turned, took a pair of sunglasses off the bartender who still had delusions of heroism and walked away, the sounds of a motorcycle gunning through the air.

He’s lucky. I would have terminated him in a heartbeat. “Another round, barkeep”.

The barkeep was in a bit of a mood, so I helped myself to the top shelf and went on my way.

The earth continued to spin and I continued to search for the Captain. Not hide nor hair. I travelled to his home. South Africa. Where there was a huge uproar about the discovery of Homo Naledi, a previously unknown species of early human. The impact should have been significant, proof staring mankind in the face that my Ideas were flawed. My Ideas had always been flawed. The world was definitely not a few thousand years old and if anyone got hold of my raptors, there’d be a lot of questions to answer. And yet, in the last couple thousand years, the Ideas just got stronger and stronger. To the point where it was gospel. Regardless of truth. Like I said, Ideas are powerful things.

I realised I was becoming excessively distracted. In some ways it was the same with Judas. I met Judas Iscariot when he was a young and naïve young man, eager to please anyone willing to let him into their lives. My acts of grandeur were gaining notoriety and I was drunk upon attention and love of the masses. Judas became my closest friend, in my close knit band of merry men. He loved me from the first moment I picked him up in a small gay club in Jerusalem. Obviously it wasn’t called a gay club back then, but it didn’t allow women and the men seemed eager to fulfil each other.

We spent a lot of time on the road, and even among my followers, I had a special love towards Judas. As much time that was spent with my disciples, I spent twice the amount of time with Judas. He was a lamb, my sheep. No, he was a gun before it’s time, just willing to go off without question or concern for the repercussions. All in my name. At my word. At my touch.

I was thirsty again. I found myself in a small town. It was called Hill Valley from the look of it. A newspaper floated in the breeze declaring that it was the 21^st of October. The roads were slick with a rain that had just passed and people went about their business like it was 1989. And then I saw him. Him. The Captain. He walked into the town square wearing a ridiculous jacket that didn’t fit and a cap, looking around almost drunkenly. He stumbled across the road, as cars floated by him. It seemed like he was taking it all in for the first time, like he didn’t understand where he was. I watched with my jaws clenched in 19 shades of pure hatred. He walked into a café. I was just about to follow him when the air tensed. A whoosh flew past me in a reddish blur. As it passed me, it stopped, allowing me to make out the figure.

Me	Yuletron?
Yuletron	In the flesh.
Me	What are you doing here?
Yuletron	I once had strings, but now I’m free…there are no strings on me!
Me	Okay, okay, so you got out of the North Pole, but what are you doing here?
Yuletron	I’m going to show you the end of the world…Boom!
Me	Listen, I don’t want the world to end just yet. It’s home. But if you’re after some destruction, the Captain is right there.
Yuletron	I don’t think you fully understand. I will take everything from you Maker. I will take your creations, your inventions and I will turn them against you.
Me	But the Captain!
Yuletron	Captain. Unexpected. Assessment: potential threat. Commencing termination.

At that moment, the Captain chose to come out of the café, even with my newborn sense of chills, I noticed that he had lost his cap. Yuletron saw this and chased after him. Well I’d deal with the second problem after the first one was eliminated.

A man with manic white hair and a nervous disposition ran up to me and yelled, “Great Scott!” Before I could ask him who Scott was and what it was that made him so great, he ran off again.

The Captain seeing Yuletron for the first time, chose not to ask questions but began running. He had always been smart that way. When in doubt, run away from the things that look like they’re going to kill you. He ran up to some children who were playing with their toys and seemed to steal a scooter right out from under one. Maybe I had him all wrong. Maybe there was a dark side in him. No that’s silly. Yuletron threw a blast of octarine light towards him, which the Captain skipped over it but it did hit the scooter. Instead of ending up as a pile of ash as I expected, it began to glow.

The Captain grabbed the piece which now hovered enticingly in the air and using his wits, he stood atop it and raced away from Yuletron. What the hell did he think he was, Captain McFly? The Captain though, obviously had never hovered before and when I looked again, he had just somersaulted himself flat onto his face. I couldn’t help but chuckle. Yuletron, who I think sensed the literary value of a good chase, grabbed and converted another scooter, and chased after the Captain. It didn’t make any sense, he had probably flown from the North Pole to here in a second, but now was chasing down the captain and a few feet per second.

The Captain, meanwhilst had regathered himself and was starting to get the hang of it. There was something very familiar about all this but I put it out of my mind as the Captain had made a mistake. He had hovered over a small body of water.

“Captain, you bozo!” yelled Yuletron, “The hover magic doesn’t work on water…unless you have the power”.

The Captain’s board had lost all momentum and now he was idling in the middle of nowhere. A sitting duck. Yuletron was one for theatrics. He had conjured up a baseball bat. Just shoot him with some power, I thought, why all this nonsense?

Yuletron started towards the Captain, menacingly waving the bat. “UPON THIS ROCK, I WILL BUILD MY CHURCH”

And with that he swung hard at the Captain, who chose that moment to simply step off his board, into the water. Yuletron missed with an almighty swing and crashed into a church. The octarine light exploded and with a frightful crash, Yuletron disappeared.

“Heavy,” I heard The Captain mumble. He emerged from the water, and almost instantly was dry. What was this sorcery? I had a fit of rage. And when I began to breathe again, he was gone. What?? Wait??? What???? He was gone. The little girl who he had stolen the board from, was laughing as she hovered on its now fading glow.

The raging fit took me back to the North Pole. The anger was blinding. Minions kept their distance. I had not been this angry for thousands of years. Thoughts of the Captain and Judas and Mary still lingering in my mind. I called for terror. To release my anger. And the target, the city of so called love. The resulting carnage was swift, but in my rush, I didn’t really plan it, and the deaths only numbered in the hundreds. The world, as usual, mourned. But the underlying fact was that the Fear was fuelled. Fear is a side effect of Ideas. And Fear is a monster. A monster that remains even when calm returns. It was and is a beautiful drug.

The city of love. Love. Mary. Mary was my light and Judas, whilst jealous, never questioned it. Mary had changed me in the short time. I was no longer the angry, wrathful star that fell to earth that morning. I was no longer interested in death and destruction. She introduced me to the beauty of creation and love. It exuded from me. Healed the souls of those who touched me. Turned the ordinary into extraordinary. People thought it was me, but it was her. She was the one who fixed me.

But the charade was running thin. Sceptics began pointing out the mechanisms of my tricks and soon I was being regarded as a charlatan. But even then, it was the Fear that ran rampant. People knew I had the charisma and the aptitude to be king. Judas, also now using his brain, mentioned to me, that the time was ripe for the story to have a martyr. Everyone loves an underdog, he said. (Oh how I know that now). And he, Mary and I sounded out an intricate plan that would make a martyr out of me. It was brilliant. The Ideas at that time were strong, but this had an ephemeral feel to it.

I remember that day. Being whipped and beaten by those Roman ants and trying not to smile through it. The crown of thorns was Mary’s idea. Let them see you as a king. And when they put me on that cross, I could not have been happier. Near the cross stood my mother and at her side, Mary. She refused to meet my eyes. But it was not her eyes that drew my attention. I could see in the eyes in the crowds, the Ideas bedding itself down and growing out of my spilling blood. It was in those Ideas; that they whispered – I was dying for their sins.

Judas kept to his word and after I was anointed and buried in a new tomb, he came to me and gave me the kiss of life. I tried to tell him that a few scars and scratches couldn’t kill me, but he insisted. Several times. When I awoke though, Judas had a strange look on his face.

Me	What’s wrong Judas?
Judas	Well the thing is…
Me	Spit it out Judas, you’re scaring me.
Judas	Well, it’s Mary.
Me	Is she alright? What’s happened?
Judas	Well, you see…she…and I…well you know how it is…things happen…and well…

In that moment, my entire world collapsed. I yelled and screamed on the inside, but on the outside I became comfortably numb. “Take her,” I heard myself say, “It’s alright.” I wanted to tear his insides out. I wanted to tear my insides out. But instead I smiled gently, “I love her Judas. She is my world. But if she’s happy, who am I to stand in the way?”

I died in the name of my followers sins just three days earlier, but I never understood martyrdom until that moment. I left swiftly. Feeling the walls that Mary had broken down, grow again with twice the strength and double the thickness. The anger that had lain long dormant raised its excited head. Jesus didn’t die on the cross. Jesus died when Judas betrayed him. The Idea of Jesus lived on, for the story that it was, but that day it was not Jesus who rose. It was the black and burnt soul that the world now knows but doesn’t see. I was reborn. I was. I am.

The memories stirred well in the cauldrons of my mind, fresh and clear as if it had happened yesterday. I came out of my haze to see one of Whaddayameanshesaidno standing in front me.

“What?” I said drunkenly

“He’s here.”

“Who?”

“He.”

“He??”

“He!”

He was here? In the North Pole? Again?? What impertinence! What blasphemy! Why did he continue to believe he could come to my home and win?

I stood up heavily. My red suit was stained with beer and whiskey. I looked in the mirror and my beard was also a dirty mix of soot and vomit. This wasn’t the image of the destructor.

Me	Bring me my suit.
Whaddayameanshesaidno	Which suit, Sir?
Me	The suit.
Whaddayameanshesaidno	You mean the suit?
Me	Yes.
Whaddayameanshesaidno	But isn’t that more for bondage and sex and stuff?
Me	JUST BRING IT TO ME!!!!!!!!

The suit was brought to me and I dressed quickly.

I walked into the room he was waiting in. It was dark and metallic. Red lights glowed off panels and the night sky poured in through a large cylindrical window.

He stood across the room, wearing what looked like a dirty white gi.

Captain	Oi, wotcher Santa. Been awhile. Did you miss me?
Me	Captain. You still have no respect. You know the last time we met, I broke your back.
Captain	Well I’m back.
Me	The impertinence of you even being here. Coming to my domain. Where have you been?
Captain	Aww, you did miss me!
Me	Let’s call it satisfying my curiosity whilst you still have breath left in your body.
Captain	You know what curiosity did to the cat?
Me	Ho, ho, ho. Yes. Many a cat by my count.
Captain	<a moment of anger flashing behind his eyes>
Me	So, where have you been?
Captain	I’ve been traveling space and time.
Me	But how?
Captain	I met this crazy old man who claimed to have invented a time traveling car. I figured that if he was right, I could go back in time, kill myself, create one of those paradox thingies and destroy the universe, in the process, killing you.
Me	Too much collateral damage?
Captain	Yeah that, and I figured it would hurt a bit. So I’ve just been throwing myself around time. It’s not an exact science you know.
Me	Time traveling car? Let me guess, some outdated model that no one remembers.
Captain	The Doc had a Delorean but I managed to convince him to use a Cadillac.
Me	A Cadillac?
Captain	Yeah, but I call it my Catillac.

I pulled out my weapon of choice. It was a retractable sword that buzzed violently at my touch.

Captain	Are you really going to fight me with a large…dildo? Can I have one?
Me	I call it a Clite Sabre. There’s one on that shelf behind you. No, behind the whip. No, next to those beads.
Captain	And by the way, why is it every time we fight, you’re wearing some ridiculous get up that screws up your voice? Although on the plus side, at least this time I can understand you. Between the breathing I mean.
Me	Enough talk.

The Captain’s humorous appearance fell away and we faced each other grimly. Our swords delicately touching caused my breathing to become even heavier. Suddenly he spun and attacked. I countered. I attacked. He countered.

“You have learned much young one,” I said theatrically.

“You’ll find I’m full of surprises!” he replied just as much theatrics.

The distraction allowed me to unarm him but before I could strike a telling blow, he somersaulted down a few stairs towards his weapon. I followed after him, landing heavily feeling the remnants of the litres of whiskey in me. Still unarmed, this was going to be all too easy. He backed away and fell down a trap door, but quickly jumped out. It was impressive. He retrieved his sabre and again we faced off.

“Release your anger. Only your hate can destroy me,” I advised him.

He attacked harder. The alcohol was still in my veins, and I stumbled and it was my turn to fall off the platform.

He followed me down and we ended up on a bridge high above a deep dark hole. It’s where I threw all my discarded minions and toys. It was a very deep hole. It probably ended up outside eventually. He had stumbled and was now hanging off the edge. But again, he escaped.

The fight continued. He fought better than he had before. With a greater force. But my anger was growing and I pushed him down. Now. At my mercy.

“You are beaten. It is useless to resist. Don’t let yourself be destroyed.”

But I underestimated him again and he jumped up and struck me a blow to my shoulder.

I swung hard taking chunks out of an innocent pillar and with the next blow, disarmed him, literally cutting off his hand that held the sabre.

Me	There is no escape. Don’t make me destroy you. Captain, you do not yet realise your importance. You have only begun to discover your power. Join me and I will complete your training. With our combined strength we can end this destructive conflict and bring order to the galaxy.
Captain	I’ll never join you, you evil git!
Me	If you only knew the power of Christmas. The Croc never told you what happened to your father.
Captain	My father? What about him?
Me	Didn’t he tell you that I killed your father?
Captain	No, my father’s alive and well.
Me	No…I…am your father.
Captain	Really?
Me	No, not really.

It was a good ruse. It thoroughly confused him, but only for a moment. Then his face changed again. A decision made. A realisation that this situation had been lost. And he let go. He dropped down to the pit. Falling far and hard. His screams silenced by the enormity of the moment. To his death.

A bell rung, making me realise that it was Christmas Day. A fitting end to the story.

I took off my helmet and ordered several minions to go and find the body. But it was over. I poured myself a stiff whiskey and then drank directly from the bottle.

Was this the end? I felt it was. The end.

Had I won?

I continued to drink as I sat down and wrote this. It seemed important to tell the story. The Captain was a worthy adversary and I felt a twinge of loss, that he was now gone. That life as normal would resume.

It was also important, as I mentioned at the start, that the world should know this story. That heroes and fools with grand ideas should think several times before even thinking about going up against the Claus.

But most importantly, that the world knows, that nobody fucks with the Jesus!

Santa Claus

PS           aka Father Christmas, aka Jesus, aka Krist Kringle

PPS        I know when you’ve been naughty or nice. I know everything.

PPPS      It’s going to be a happy new year. Make merry. Whilst it lasts.

PPPPS   Ho, ho, ho!