Selling the Soul to Santa
I stretched out luxuriously, ready to experience my last day on Earth. I had a pretty bad run, and I decided the Dark Lord could probably do more with the sad excuse of existence that I led thus far. The papers were signed away and he would be meeting me downstairs to lead me to my eternity of suffering that would still probably end up being more fulfilling than my life. Someone would be enjoying my torment.
I sped downstairs and started toward the kitchen. I saw his looming shadow already stretching from the living room. My heart raced furiously as I cautiously stepped toward him. I would finally see him in all his glory. I was almost blinded by the brilliance of his red fur gleaming from the sun’s rays. I squinted in his presence and tried to find words to commence my soul-selling.
“Hello my dear boy,” he said, in a way too jovial voice. My jaw went slack as I finally made out his exterior.
“S-Santa?” I sputtered.
“As requested, my boy,” he breathed in heavily, his body clearly struggling with his weight. He was eyeing my fridge.
“I… what? I didn’t ask for y — “
“I hereby declare my soul to be given to the Dark Lord Santa, on the morning of December 25th,” he read aloud from a contract that appeared before him, “and then you signed your name in goat’s blood right there.” He pointed with his nose. “You write this, did you not?”
“Well, yeah, but — “
“And you signed it in goat’s blood?”
“For Satan! Why would I write the Dark Lord Santa?” I yelled, exasperated already.
He shrugged.
“I’ve been called a lot worse. Despite the work I do, you can’t make everyone happy.”
His stomach groaned and again his eyes darted at my fridge.
“Forget it, it’s empty.” I waved my hand to refocus his attention. “But isn’t there a way that you can clear the contract?”
“Oh, yes, absolutely,” he nodded.
“Really? Great, thank you!”
“Don’t jump to conclusions there, my boy. Just because I can nullify the contract doesn’t mean I will. Do you think I get to sending gifts to literally every house in the world without some people doing the legwork? I need people in the toy shop, the reindeer stables, the mines — “
“The mines?”
“Yeah, to gather all the coal! How else do you think I get it? That where you’re headed, actually,” he stated matter-of-factly.
“Isn’t there some way we can — “
“Nope, contract’s signed!” he said, too happily, and he snapped his fingers beneath his gloves.
In an instant, the world swirled around me as I landed on the floor of a dark room covered in ash. I heard clanking around me and the tweet of a bird nearby. No way. I was already in the coal mine! I started looking around for an exit when a worker made eye contact with me and shook his head sympathetically. He shrugged and pointed to the pentagram on his hard hat. Then motioned for me to see the hardhats along the wall, all with the pentagram on the front.
“Satan is just tricky to spell, huh?”