February 25, 2018

A Few Santa Clause Nightmares

Filed under: Uncategorized — Benjamin Vulpes @ 11:42 p.m.

This past holiday season, I relented on my lifelong grinchdom. My tiny family had a rough autumn in the family-planning arena, and I elected to cheer up my girl by embracing the spirit of teh season, and it warnt all bad at that1. I held the line at indoor trees and other assorted messes that inevitably fall to me to clean up (Aesthetics proposes, Operations disposes...), but conceeded to pitch in to the tune of watching the child while ladybird hung lights on the front of the house2 and even greenlit various wreaths and a seasonal mantle decoration. Love and filth, filth and love; at least I've managed to teach an old dog the new trick of sleeping in his own damn bed.

Watching terrible nineties films is apparently a very important part of Christmas For Americans, and so along with some other dreck (not counted among, The [1992] Muppet Christmas Carol, which has a marvelously dim view of Dickensian life), I watched The Santa Clause3. The movie itself is nothing to write home about, but the girl and I baked a few alt fanfics that I still chuckle at from time to time lo these months later. So, for your enjoyment, some Santa Clause Nightmares.

Santa Clause 2: The Patricide

At the close of The Santa Clause, the child character who's just like every other virtuous child character in every American movie states that he "wants to go into the family business". After the extremely stressful events of The Santa Clause, the subsequent nasty divorce, mom and stepdad's unrelenting shittiness to Tim Allen/Santa Claus and the kid in question whenever he stands up for his father, the eventual rot of mom's new marriage etc; kiddo grows up to be a total shitbag. The twisted adolescent interprets the titular clause to mean that in order to a) free his father from the unending labor that is annual gift-delivery and b) go into the family business he must kill his father and put the suit on. So he does.

The Eternal Deliveryman

Santa's magical powers are twofold: flying the sleigh and freezing time so that he can deliver all the presents (all moments where he is depicted meeting a child are wistful self-sabotage, longing for a touch of the human while he executes his eternal duty). While time is frozen, Mr. Claus is limited to moving about the world at the subjective speed that a team of reindeer could pull a sleigh on the ground; which is not particularly fast. Nevertheless, he must deliver all presents to all children in the world while moving at this subjectively glacial pace.

Net result: Santa endures an eternity delivering presents every year, gliding from house to house while the rest of the world sits frozen, with only the occasional glance at a Tussaudly snapshot of fireside rumpy-pumpy, occasionally relaxing the time-freeze for a precious moment of interaction with an innocent bairn. After this annual eternity of isolation from all elven contact, he returns to the North Pole for a subjective weekend (a year in mortal time) of rest and recuperation while the elves pack his sleigh for the next outing.

Death of a Santa Claus

Tim Allen plays a paranoid schizophrenic who thinks he's Santa. The show is shot from his perspective, complete with embellished court dates, meetings with the divorce lawyers and CPS representatives. The third act of the movie enters his final dreams as he freezes to death in Central Park, imagining a grand reconciliation, introducing the elves to his ex-wife, winning shared custody, proving to everyone that he actually was Santa Claus all along, and validating the love of his son.

Happy Holidays.

  1. Stan Kenton has a few charmingly kitschy big-band Christmas albums. His "Twelve Nights" is particularly entertaining, gets the whole band involved over the course of the (entirely over-the-top) verses. []
  2. "You get up there and hang lights already! I intend to keep my hands nicely warm down here on the lawn with child duty." We live on a busy street, it is what it is. The landlord will install a fence this spring, which should dial down the necessary amount of alert one has to be while gardening or hanging lights. Such are the upsides of renting from actual humans instead of corporations. []
  3. 1994, with Tim Allen and a bunch of other people I also don't recognize or care about because my parents failed to innoculate me with American Culture(s). []

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