It’s that time of year again. The time when you huddle around the fire place, or in my case the burning trash can out in the driveway, and await the arrival of the only man whose criminal breaking and entering we actually look forward to. I’m of course talking about Santa Claus. I spend most of the year not really caring one way or the other about Christmas, Halloween typically being the holiday I for, but come December 20th, all my cynicism disappears, and I revert to about ten years old, my excitement building until by Christmas Eve I feel like I’m going to pop out of my skin. I simply can’t wait for that jolly, fat bastard to make his way into my house like a festive cat burglar and leave me whatever it is that I asked him for that year. Isn’t Santa great? Milk and cookies are the least I can do when the man does so much himself. I like to mix up what cookies he’s going to get each year too, that way he never knows what to expect. What kind of cookies do you like to leave for old St. Nick? Oh wait, you probably don’t leave out cookies do you? I always forget about the living not believing in Santa Claus for some reason, as if being an adult means it’s wrong to believe in him. That my friend, is why you get nothing. I guess since I’ve got nothing better to do until he gets here, now might be a good time to talk about the relationship between Santa and the undead.
First things first, there is only one Santa Claus. The first question I always get asked whenever the topic of Christmas comes up is whether or not the undead believe in a zombie Santa. No, we don’t believe in a zombified Santa Claus, the undead are well aware that Zombie Santa was created by Coca-Cola for a short lived ad campaign targeted towards zombies. It obviously didn’t work since everyone knows zombies prefer Pepsi, but it had the unfortunate, for Coke anyways, side effect of pissing off all of zombiekind considering how offensive it probably was for the real Santa Claus. Let me repeat that, The Real Santa Claus. Why would we go for some corporate created garbage when the actual guy has been spoiling the undead for ages? I’ve even heard stories told of him bringing human flesh to zombie homes centuries ago, but apparently the elves got tired of having to giftwrap pieces of people, the task being a little more grotesque than their standard duties, and after a pitched battle that left dozens of elves dead, Santa relented, and the elves no longer had to get bloody. I’m not sure how they procured their flesh either since the elves didn’t seem to have a problem with the idea, they just hated getting blood all over their outfits, dry cleaning not having been invented yet and all. Maybe they kidnapped the naughty and butchered them for consumption, maybe they grew flesh in the world’s most delicious greenhouse, or maybe Mr. Claus just waved his hands and flesh appeared. I don’t know, and I don’t care. Personally, I can get human flesh any time I want, but that X-BOX One isn’t going to be so easy to come by, so this arrangement works much better if you ask me.
The next question a zombie generally gets after undead Santa is always something along the lines of “But isn’t he afraid of being eaten?” No, no he is not. Why should the man bringing us gifts be threatened by us? If the rest of you meatsacks gave us gifts more often, we might not eat you either. No way is any zombie that isn’t already on the naughty list going to attack him, not unless he shows up with an empty sack, and those zombies that are on the naughty list, the zombies that might actually eat the big man, those assholes aren’t getting a visit anyways, so no danger there. Plus, there’s the whole magic thing. How else do you think a guy his size squeezes into every house on his list? It’s not like he’s the holiday version of that liver eating dude from X-Files. Trying to eat Santa Clause would be like trying to eat a chubby, level 99 warlock that smiles at you while he’s sending you to a world of never ending torment and despair, not because he enjoys doing it mind you, he’s just full of so much jolliness that he can’t help but smile. His look throws a lot of people off, but the man’s actually quite the badass, so it’s best not to get on his bad side lest you really want to find out what Holiday Hell is like. Not to mention the whole wanting a present thing. And no, eating people does not get one on the naughty list, well, I mean eating people when you’re a zombie. I’d imagine eating people when you’re a human probably gets you put near the top of the naughty list. Zombies on the other hand get an exception. Everything else still applies as far as ways to get yourself on his bad side, stealing, lying, crapping in your neighbor’s yard, all the things we have to be careful not to do during the year, but the flesh eating is excused. You can’t blame a zombie for doing what zombies do. It’s not like he’s passing up your house because of that cheeseburger you ate, so why would he avoid our homes. Sure, your cheeseburger didn’t talk to you before you ate it, but same thing. Apples and oranges right?
There’s usually one last question I’m asked before I get tired of being pestered and decide to eat the asker instead. If Santa Claus is real, then how come he doesn’t visit living adults? That’s simple. You people quit believing. If you don’t believe in him, why is he going to bother giving you a gift? He’s already got enough houses to visit, and even with his ability to move faster than The Flash on meth, it takes a very long time. He’s not going to bother with the people who don’t even think he exists, don’t send him a letter asking for what they want, and can’t be bothered to leave him milk and cookies. Most humans are told he isn’t real when they’re young, and they accept that as fact, along with all the other things they’re told don’t exist. The undead live in a world full of vampires, werewolves, and witches, a magical fat guy doesn’t seem that farfetched. Though, if I’m being honest, if new zombies weren’t told from the get go that Santa was in fact a real person, I guess we most likely wouldn’t believe either.
Now, I know it’s a bit too late to send your requests to Kris Kringle at this point, but I’d suggest at least putting out some milk and cookies for him before you go to bed. It’s not going to get you anything special this year, but you never know about next year.
Until next time, this is your unfriendly neighborhood zombie signing out. Oh, and Merry Christmas.