Shocking Excerpts From Santa’s Secret Mission Logs

By: Mike Richardson-Bryan

December 26, 336

They said it couldn’t be done, but I did it! Thousands of toys, all hand-made and hand-delivered to every home in Christendom, and all in one night! Oh, to see the looks on the faces of all those little boys and girls.

Maybe I should do this every year.

* * * * * * *

December 26, 339

What a mess out there. Rome has fallen and civilization is in ruins. Also, I lost a mitten.

* * * * * * *

December 26, 799

I’m exhausted. There sure seem to be a lot more Christians out there than there used to be. If this keeps up, I’m gonna need some help around here.

I wonder if those goblins that live on the other side of the Pole are any good with their hands.

* * * * * * *

December 23, 800

What a difference a year makes. Those goblins (sorry, elves) are miracle workers. All the toys are in the sack and ready to go with a day to spare. I’m gonna get those guys to help out every year, if they’re up for it. It’s too bad they subsist on fermented seal blood, otherwise I could really see them becoming a beloved part of Christmas lore, but oh well.

* * * * * * *

March 15, 1045

What a week. One minute, I’m a perfectly happy bachelor. The next, I’m hitched to some sturdy Ukrainian woman with one big eyebrow. She’s already riding me to lose weight and get a “real job,” too. That’s the last time I get wasted in Kiev.

* * * * * * *

June 5, 1388

A sad day out in the barn. After a long struggle, Comet finally succumbed to terminal antleritis. But on the bright side, the missus makes a fine stew.

* * * * * * *

June 12, 1388

Training a new reindeer. He’s not too bright, he’s blind in one eye, and he might have an inner ear problem, but he’s all I could get my hands on this year. The elves want me to name him “Comet II,” but I’m leaning towards “Ballast.” I’m not expecting much from him, but hey, maybe he’ll surprise me with one of those Christmas miracles. Fingers crossed!

* * * * * * *

June 22, 1388

Lost Ballast on a training run over the Black Sea. Poor guy corkscrewed in, bleating all the way. No Christmas miracle this year, I guess.

* * * * * * *

December 13, 1930

Just got a “cease and desist” letter. Turns out some sugar water company called Coca-Cola owns the exclusive rights to my image. How the hell did that happen?

* * * * * * *

December 26, 1941

What a rotten night. Lost Donder, Bonehead, and Meatball over Germany (stupid anti-aircraft fire), had to jettison most of the toys just to stay aloft, and when I got back home, I blew my landing and took out a wing of the workshop. Boy, nothing clings to your hair and clothes like the smell of burning elves.

* * * * * * *

December 20, 1947

There sure are a lot of kids asking for their two front teeth these days. It was cute at first, but I’m getting pretty tired of hanging out at the pub waiting for drunken brawls to break out, then crawling around on the floor looking for stray incisors. Still, lucky for me that elf teeth are child-sized.

* * * * * * *

March 2, 1952

I’ve been subpoenaed to appear before something called the House Un-American Activities Committee, whatever that is.

* * * * * * *

March 17, 1952

This is madness! I just spent the day defending myself from all manner of crazy accusations. So what if my suit is red? It’s been red for over a thousand years and no one’s complained. So what if I make frequent trips to Eastern Europe? There are millions of little boys and girls in Eastern Europe, aren’t there? So what if Mrs. Claus is from Ukraine? We’ve never discussed her politics, and if we had, it’d be our business and ours alone. What part of “I’m Santa Claus, dammit!” don’t these people understand? Arrgghh!

* * * * * * *

March 22, 1952

I’m so ashamed. Those awful men and their awful committee just kept at me until I couldn’t take it anymore. God forgive me, but I named names. Eskimos, mostly, but I think I may have mentioned the Easter Bunny, too. Oh, he’s gonna be pissed.

* * * * * * *

December 26, 1965

I’ve got to start reading those wish lists more carefully. But if you ask me, if a kid asks for “a barrel of monkeys,” he shouldn’t be surprised to wake up on Christmas morning to find his living room crawling with angry, feces-throwing monkeys plus a big barrel with a few dead monkeys at the bottom (they really, really don’t like it in the barrel, apparently). Oh well, live and learn, I guess.

* * * * * * *

December 1, 1994

Note to self: kill Tim Allen.

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December 26, 1999

Another rough night. Blitzen gored some kid in Manila. I tried to buy the parents off, as usual, but they weren’t having any of it. One thing led to another, and I ended up beating the whole family to death with a sackful of Beanie Babies, which took, like, forever. So, long story short, Christmas won’t be coming to the Philippines for a while.

* * * * * * *

December 16, 2008

Why the hell didn’t anyone tell me about this “” thing before? Here I’ve been busting my hump for 1672 years, but now I can just “point” and “click” and be done with it. Hallelujah! I can finally fire the elves and free the reindeer and get myself that wicked tattoo of a naked chick riding a polar bear that I’ve always wanted. I just hope they accept payment in 4th century Lycian drachmae.


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