FANTASY
Santa’s Coming Out Party
The North Pole is a safe space for all
“Kris, did you put out the garbage and feed the reindeer,” calls out Karl from the kitchen. He is busy making sugar cookies, just how Kris loves — with love.
“Damn it, Karl, I’m relaxing. As soon as I finish my drink and my cigar, I’ll do it. The last five Mrs. Klauses added together didn’t make such an uproar.”
“Well, I’m not those old girls,” Karl says. “They may have let your toxic masculinity and strict adherence to gender norms rule their life, but not me, mister. We’re married, and this will not, I repeat NOT, be a traditional marriage. Time to get out of the sixteenth century, honey bunny.”
“I liked the sixteenth century. In fact, I loved the sixteenth century. It was the best century. Shakespeare, Da Vinci, Suleiman, Machiavelli. Who’s famous now? Kanye and the damn Kardashians. Oh, and that pretty boy, Ryan Reynolds. Lump of coal for him this year. He’ll probably get an Oscar, too.”
“Ryan Reynolds is dreamy, and I won’t have you speak that way about him. I almost married him, you know. He shook my hand once, and I knew we were going to be married. And then he went all straight. Damn, my luck. I’m almost finished baking your cookies. Put out your cigar and get your ass in gear. The elves can’t do everything. They can’t even reach the top of the garbage bin. They have to stand on each other’s shoulders.” Karl sees Kris laughing. “Shame! All you’ll get is a lump of coal this Christmas.”
Kris downs his whisky in a gulp and looks lovingly at the bottle. “I’ll be back to give you the attention you so rightly deserve.” Santa has to squint at the bottle to read it since he had his reading glasses perched, forgotten, on the top of his head. He reads, “20 Years, Oak Aged. Product of Skye. Skye, lovely little island. Quiet. I could use some quiet. Definitely could use some quiet.”
Standing quickly, for a man of his size and age, he turns to the door, and with a bound, he’s outside. Santa spies the elves lollygagging around, so he says, “Boys, it’s garbage time. I’ll toss the bags to you, and you can get the bags out to the curb.” Kris loves tossing the bags to the elves. It was almost like elf bowling. The reindeer love watching the elves getting hit by the garbage bags. Even old Rudolph’s nose lights up a bit more.
“And then I’ll feed the reindeer and muck their stalls. I hope Rudolph hasn’t gotten out of his stall again. It’s a pain cleaning up his messes all over the stable. Only reason he’s not stew yet like Donner was, is his nose. Let me see in the fog. But eventually. Eventually. This jolly old guy needs to eat.”
“The cookies are ready. Do you want some milk with them?”
“Milk,” Kris mutters, shaking his head. Turning back to the house, he says, “No, babes, I already have a drink poured. Just them sweet cookies, hun.”
“No more whiskey. You won’t be able to walk straight, and we have guests coming tonight for dinner.”
“Guests? What guests? Not more of your friends?”
“It’s the party, babes. It’ll be all over the news. Santa’s out. Short hems are in. May y’all have a very gay Christmas.”
“More whiskey it is,” Kris mutters. “Being in the closet was so much easier. Just internalize the burden and pretend to be happy. But when love calls, a man’s gotta do what a man’s gotta do. Ho! Ho! Ho!”
“I’ll be right up, hun. I guess I’ll need to wear my new Santa suit?” Kris calls up after he finishes mucking the stalls. “Won’t do for your friends to see me in a reindeer shit-stained suit.” He heads up towards the house.
“Oh, hun, I’ve got far better outfit for you than a Santa suit,” Karl responds. “Time to up your game, sweetie. Maybe some Burberry or Armani.”
“Christ, Armani? I didn’t know they made anything in my size.”
“They’ll do anything for my jolly old gent. They know who’s been naughty and who’s been nice.”
Santa’s gait slows, and he slowly shakes his head, but he soldiers on.
Wearing nice clothes for a change won’t kill me.
I might even like it.
The things I do for love.
Rocky Shores is a hard drinkin’ and a hard lovin’ man, with a taste for the fast life. As he often quoted, “You only live once, so grab the bull by the horns and ride, baby, ride”. He is a teller of truths, even if it’s lies. To learn more about Rocky Shores and, as a jumping-off point into his writing, this is his ‘About Me’ story.
