sweeneytodd

So, I'll be leaving to visit my folks in Tennessee tomorrow morning, and like many of us, I'm not sure how much I'll be online over the next few days.

I hope everyone has a safe and wonderful holiday, and as a parting gift, I'll leave you with this twisted little story from Neil Gaiman (he had it illustrated and used it as a Christmas card one year -- I stole the idea myself). It may make you think a bit differently about Santa Claus. Enjoy...

NICHOLAS WAS . . .

older than sin, and his beard could grow no whiter.

He wanted to die.

The dwarfish natives of the Arctic caverns did not speak his language, but conversed in their own, twittering tongue, conducted incomprehensible rituals, when they were not actually working in the factories.

Once every year they forced him, sobbing and protesting, into Endless Night. During the journey he would stand near every child in the world, leave one of the dwarves' invisible gifts by its bedside. The children slept, frozen in time.

He envied Prometheus and Loki, Sisyphus and Judas.

His punishment was harsher.

Ho.

Ho.

Ho.