It’s that time of year, boys and girls, one week until the big day, until the fat man jumps down your chimeny with his sack full of goodies. Sure, you’ve seen Miracle on 34th Street, so you figure “Yes Virginia, I do know the story of Santa Claus.” The fuck you do. As faithful readers of the ol’ blog learned in 2010 and again in 2011, there’s more. Much more. And so, for your holiday reading pleasure, I give you this year’s installment in the unfolding Santa Noir saga. What? You though some kind of pussy could run the Pole? Think again.
Santa Cuts a Deal: A Santa Noir Story
“. . . just looking for a taste, big guy. Doesn’t even hurt your end, that’s the sweet thing. This Santa brand? How it all rolls up into your wallet? Took me months to work it out. It’s freakin’ genius. So Rudolf gets a little taste, but every move we make, it just gooses your brand. More on your end, more on our end . . .”
“ . . . this is straight win-win, baby. Keeps you under the radar. Keeps you from having to explain to Mr. and Mrs. America how you’re getting fat off of everybody’s favorite holiday. And I’ve got some leverage here, the right-of-celebrity thing. This whole Rudolf deal? It’s a sideline for you sure, but it’s ten figures a year. Thing is, legally, that’s his story, that’s his image . . .”
“. . . picture a jury listening to this Rudolf thing. Birth defect, ostracized, then one night his nose hauls your fat out of the fire, you make millions on his story and he gets what? Oats? Jury hears that, and we’re talking retroactive royalties, punitive damages, the whole nine yards. And when it gets out that Santa exploited a disabled reindeer, what’s that gonna do to your brand?”
“Ho ho ho,” Santa gave a low chuckle, a merry one, a just-us-guys twinkle in his eye, grabbed the carafe on his desk and poured some cocoa into the two cups. “Well, young fella, I’ve always said, there’s no problem so big it can’t be worked out over a nice cup of cocoa.”
Levenson smirked, took a sip, slumped slack in the chair. Dumb ass. Santa hit the buzzer. Vito came in with a couple elves from security.
“You clean out his place?” Santa asked.
“Perfect,” said Santa. “Fly him back, OD him and put him to bed.”
Vito pointed. The security guys dumped Levenson out of the chair got him under the arms, started dragging him out of the office.
“Oh, and Vito?” Santa said.
“Find Rudolf. And have the chef fire up the bar-b-que.”
Vito nodded, left. Santa sat back in his chair. An agent Rudolf? Really? Nose so bright my ass. Sled’s got GPS now, you dumb ungulate. You don’t fuck with Santa.
A Special Holiday Offer!
And now, a special offer! My debut novel, PENANCE, is now available for pre-order. Get your order in before Dec. 31, and I’ll send you your very own, suitable-for-framing, print version of all three Santa Noir tales, complete with Ms. Kat McNally’s kick-ass Santa illustrations. Imagine the delighted looks from your youngins and the warm holiday glow from family and friends when you hang these up every year. Just head over to Amazon, make with the clicky, and e-mail your order confirmation and mailing address to email@example.com and your set of collectible Santa Noir stories are on their way! Already order? Never fear, any confirmation dated before Dec. 31, 2012 gets you these priceless pieces of yuletide cheer.