Here’s why I think Santa works alone: because Santa’s helpers have ROTTEN ideas.
When I walked home from school with my friends this morning, I was talking about what kinds of things to put in the little mobs’ socks on Christmas. Ziggy reminded me they were called STOCKINGS. Whatever—that’s not the important part.
What’s important is what I’m going to stuff inside the stinky socks. And it can’t be something that costs emeralds, because I’m trying to EARN those, not spend a bunch of them. That’s just not good business.
So I asked my friends what they thought about gunpowder. I mean, we have a whole trash can full of it in the garage from all of Cammy’s explosions. So it wouldn’t cost me any emeralds. And, hey, the little mobs could make fireworks with it!
I was sure at least one of my friends would cheer or tell me how great my idea was. But even Sam stayed quiet. Maybe it was because I was making him pull the sled home, and he was still tired from pulling Chloe to school.
Instead of backing up my idea, Willow had to point out that fireworks aren’t SAFE for little mobs.
Who blew up and made her the teacher around here?
Anyway, she said she had a better idea. Wanna know what it was? (Trust me, you really don’t.)
Willow’s great idea was SPIDER EYES. Sometimes I wonder if that girl is high on her own potions or something.
I tried to tell her that no kid wants to reach into a stocking and pull out a slimy spider eye.
Ziggy backed me up on that one, which I thought was pretty decent of him. But then he suggested I put rotten FLESH in the stockings. So I don’t know where he gets off shooting down spider eyes.
I was hoping Sam would save the day and vote for gunpowder. Instead, he suggested slimeballs. So now you see what I mean about Santa’s helpers. Who needs ‘em?
When we couldn’t agree on stocking stuffers, Ziggy asked why I didn’t just do what the real Santa does and put apples in the stockings.
I reminded him that I don’t have an apple tree in my backyard. And if I did, it would be frozen solid right now. And a bag of apples costs like five emeralds or something at the store. So there.
Then Willow said, “Doesn’t your mom buy apples?”
I’m pretty sure I rolled my eyes. Sometimes I think my friends don’t know me at all.
“Creepers aren’t big on fruits and vegetables,” I told her.
Then I remembered that wasn’t TOTALLY true. Mom was on this “going green” kick for a while when all she served for breakfast and dinner was green vegetables. I really don’t like to think about that time, because I had a pretty bad experience with brussels sprouts.
Also, Mom does make apple crisp sometimes. But she burns it to an extra crispy crisp so we don’t have to taste the apples. (And I really appreciate that about her cooking.)
So that got me to thinking. If I could convince Mom that apples were GOOD for us, like those brussels sprouts, maybe she would buy them more often. And then I could sneak off with a couple every day until I had enough for Christmas.
GENIUS!
Like I said, who needs helpers? I’m a Santa with a plan.