"The Santa Clauses & The Great Battle of Gaza"

Part I: A Christmas Disclosure

“We have some incredible breaking news to report to you, happening just minutes ago” Clara Macintyre explained to her millions of viewers. Taking a deep breath, still trying to process the information herself, she continued.

“Reports are coming in that Israel has promised to shoot Santa out of the sky and, quote, ‘send him back to hell where he came from’ if he tries to deliver any presents to the children in the Gaza Strip or West Bank…In other related news,”

Clara chuckled and continued,

“Santa Clause is real. Yes, for all of you that had your hearts broken in your adolescent years, prepare to have those hearts, unbroken.”

Clara was naturally snapping back into the candor and tone of newspeak as if she hadn’t just said the most insane thing ever spoken in any setting in the last two-thousand years, let alone an international 24-hour news network.

“Santa Clause is allegedly real and always has been. This morning, in an attempt to get ahead of this outstanding and unanticipated revelation, the Pentagon held a press conference on the matter. The following is a sound bite of the most important take-aways from that meeting.”

A video of a C-SPAN recording expanded from a corner of the news-ticker and filled the screen, showing a military man in full garb addressing the press about the apparent Santa Claus disclosure.

“Yes, Santa Claus is real.” Brigadier General Bradley “Bugsy” Bridges said, in a somewhat solemn tone. “It’s complicated, to say the least, but if I could summarize the situation before we take questions…”

Bugsy Bridges wiped the sweat off his forehead. Regret, and a kind of quiet rage seethed from his pores, mixing with the rest of his bodily fluids. The cameras flashed in such a succession that it ceased to be flashing and instead became a sustained light, shining brighter than the Arabian sun. The sound of clicking, reminiscent of automatic machine gun fire in the distance, made it almost impossible to decipher anything intelligible inside the rumbling chatter of the reporters anxiously awaiting the biggest story of their entire careers.

That room had never been louder, brighter…merrier. Unfortunately for Bugsy, the cheer escaped his place at the podium as he was drowned out by the bright lights and that click-click-click of the cameras. As if the General didn’t have enough to worry about, he was currently edging into one of a dozen memories of his tours in Iraq and Afghanistan.

The only reason I’m alive is because Iraqi hand grenades are shit-made…

The general snapped out of it, grabbed a box of orange tic-tacs from his right pants pocket and chucked it at one of the photographers in the front.

“Pictures at the end!” he bellowed.

The flashes stopped immediately, replaced by gaping eyes and hung mouths spread across a crowded-to-beyond-capacity 30x30 conference room breaking 7 fire regulations. This was the biggest event in a century, and Bradley Bugsy Bridges would be the reluctant face of the whole thing, as requested by Santa Claus himself, in Clause 127.

“The United States government, in conjunction with all other sovereign nations across the world, decided in the late 19th century to cover up the true nature of Santa Claus and Christmas for a variety of reasons, including international security, societal stability and the general sanity and wellbeing of the global commonwealth.

“In a world built on beliefs, whether they be traditional religious ones, or scientific and rational, we knew the truth about Santa would cause a breakdown in those pillars of our society, causing mass panic throughout the entire civilized world. So, an agreement was made with Santa Claus, officially titled, ‘The Santa Clauses.’ Santa agreed to allow the government to cover up his existence as long as he was able to continue delivering presents with impunity…”

Bugsy took a long, deep breath.

“The reason I am speaking with you today is because one of the clauses of this document states that if there was ever some international realization of the existence of Santa Claus, the governments of the world would have to immediately conduct a full disclosure of all Santa Files.”

“What do you mean allow?” a journalist from the crowd yelled out.

“Huh?!” Bugsy blurted.

“Santa allowing you to cover it up. What do you mean allow? What sort of capabilities does Santa have? Could he stop you from censoring his existence?”

“He has a sleigh with nine reindeer the size of full-grown grizzlies attached to the front. The lead one has a nose with a bioluminescence that shines at the equivalent of 4 million lumens. And the presents? I won’t even try to explain how he stores 30 billion square feet of volume and 80 billion pounds of material in a sleigh approximately the size of a small, one-bedroom apartment. And the propulsion system? We’ve clocked the god-forsaken thing at Mach 12. A quantum entangling portal delivery system sends large quantities of weighted materials with a perfect ‘organizational-fidelity-through-transfer’ to 402,777 individual targets per second every second for six hours and that fat bastard hasn’t even broken a sweat yet.”

The audience gasped as the General took a pause. A menacing terror crept through his pupils and poured out over the podium.

“Then there’s the elves…”

As if the crowd were doing a reverse wave of celebration, they all dropped their pads and pencils, the way people drop their hats to bad news regarding some human tragedy.

“Don’t get me started on the elves. Those evil bastards.”

The General shook his head, looking down at the little piece of wood that holds the papers up on the podium, before getting back to the reporters question.

“What is he capable of?…What is he capable of?!…Things beyond your wildest nightmares kid!”

The young reporter took an awestruck step back and mumbled, “Jesus Christ.”

“Jesus Christ on a Christmas Tree son.”

The General pursed his lips, darted his eyes over to a young female reporter in the front left corner and shot his arm out with finger pointed like he was drawing a gun on her.

“Questions?”

The room exploded in a roar.

END OF PART ONE

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