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The Tyranny of Gargamel- Santa's Adopted Son by William Hrdina
SUMMARY: A demented Christmas story inspired by the movie Elf, the smurfs, and Mommy Dearest.
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The camcorder's small video display shows a long shot of a room. A simple wooden stool is set up at the bottom of the frame. The wall behind the stool is painted like a candy cane, alternating red and white stripes. Directly behind the stool is a huge fireplace, trimmed in garland with a small fire crackling inside.
The shot stays this way for a few moments, and then a very small man walks into view. He's dressed in shorts and a short-sleeved shirt with pointy-toed flip-flops. The entire ensemble is a shade of green that is, if possible, a shade or two brighter than the wall behind. The man walks up to the stool and hops on top of it with a grunt. His stubby legs barely poke over the end. He takes a deep breath, and begins to speak.
"Uh. Hello." He says in a deep voice. He stops, touches his neck with his fingers and then clears his throat. When he speaks again the deep voice is gone, replaced with a cute little high-pitched voice. "Hello. My name is Balthazar. I am an Elf in the employ of Mr. Christopher Kringle, more commonly known by his pseudonym, Santa Claus. I am recording this from the Gift Wrapping Room in the heart of Santa's gift manufacturing operation on the uncharted Caribbean Island known as 'the North Pole.' I know that it is the common story that we live at the actual North Pole located at O degrees longitude. We did, up until the 60's. But then Santa got turned on to the pot when he visited the Beatles during the height of Beatlemania. We hung around up north for a few months afterward, but Santa decided living in the freezing cold was harshing his buzz so he bought an entire Caribbean island and moved the entire operation to the warmer climate. It turns out the new location is quite ideal. The reindeers love the sun, and being able to go outside has helped Santa a great deal with his weight problems.
Santa is, of course, independently wealthy, having inherited his fortune from Baron Von Claus, a man who cornered the toy market in Germany in the 1840's with his blockbuster toy 'The wheel and the stick.' There were some lean years during the early 90's but once Santa was able to lock down distribution in China in front of the always pesky Jesus, things have gone back to normal.
At least financially.
From time immemorial we elves have lived with Santa with Mrs. Claus and the reindeers; first at the Pole; and now here on the island. They've never had any children so it was just us. Everything was just perfect. Sure, there was the odd orphan, but they always grew up sweet and good and had Christmas movies of their own made about them.
And then, on the Christmas Eve of '96 Santa discovered an eight year old boy stowed away on his sleigh. Nothing has ever been the same.
The boy's name was Gargamel. He said he didn't remember his last name but I think he knew it just fine. I think he just didn't want Santa to be able to check out his story. But that's just conjecture. What is for sure is that the first day Gargamel showed up his hair was long and dirty and his many layers of clothes stunk like reindeer shit.