Writing Resources from Fifteen Minutes of Fiction

Is Santa Dead?

When the last of the humans passed out of existence, we became - by default - the inheritors of planet earth. It was the last dying wish of their race that we should try - to the very best of our ability - to perpetuate the ways and traditions of humanity.

We have done our best to fulfill their wishes. So here we sit, on December 24^th, waiting for some silly old man in a red suit to come zooming by and bring Christmas presents down our chimneys.

For the first few years the whole Santa thing was a source of disagreement among our leaders. Was Santa human? And if he was, did that mean he was dead also? Or was he something beyond human? In which case, maybe he was still alive.

For those first few years we waited to see if Santa would show up. He never did.

Now, each year, our leaders appoint one of us in every town to play the part of Santa. The chosen one will put on a fake beard, dress up in a bright red suit, and stuff pillows under the coat to create the illusion of obesity. Then the appointed Santa will drive around town (no matter how hard we try, we still haven't figured out how the original Santa could have made the reindeer fly - even when we throw them over a precipice, they simply refuse to stay aloft), climb up on each roof, and bring presents down the chimney.

We've had wide chimneys installed in every home for exactly this purpose; we still don't understand how a fat old man could fit down those skinny chimneys the humans built in their homes.

Then on December 25^th we will all get up early and sing songs and open presents and laugh with great joy and merriment.

The whole thing would make a whole lot more sense, I think, if those humans could have had the foresight to install emotion chips in our circuitry before they kicked the bucket.

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