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Message-ID: <52663asstr$1135242604@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: "Kenny Gamura" <turtlemeat69@hotmail.com>
Mime-Version: 1.0
Subject: {ASSM} Christmas Nookies {Gamera} (humor, holiday, snackfood)
Lines: 235
Date: Thu, 22 Dec 2005 04:10:04 -0500
Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail
Approved: <assm@asstr-mirror.org>
Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d

                        Disclaimer

This is just a story, okay.  Nothing like this ever
happened and nothing like it ever should, get it.  It is
completely something from my imagination.  This means it
belongs to me, its creator, not to you.  So don't republish
or repost or anything like that without me saying it's all
right.  I spell like crap.  suzee did her best to fix it,
but their is only so much she can do.

Thank You and Good Day,
Kenny N Gamera
turtlemeat69@hotmail.com

http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/Gamera/www
http://storiesonline.net

For the Girl Scout Nookie stories that precede this one:
http://www.asstr-mirror.org/files/Authors/denny/www/

                     Christmas Nookies
                            by
                      Kenny N Gamera

Santa dropped his sack with a grunt and leaned against it.
It had been a long night, and he hadn't even finished New
Hampshire yet.  It seem that with every Christmas Eve the
nights just got longer and longer.  He sighed and wiped his
brow with his left sleeve.  Standing, he turned back to his
sack and began to rummage around for presents.

"Santa?"

It was a soft voice behind him.  The voice of a young one,
but not too young.  In fact, it was the voice of a girl
just barely young enough to still believe in him.

"Crap," muttered Santa under his breath.

He spun around, planting a big smile on his lips and
willing his eyes to sparkle.

"Ho! Ho! Ho!" he shouted in a deep, loud voice.  "Merry
Christmas!"

The twelve year-old's blue eyes grew big and round.  Her
mouth hung open.

"Wow!"

She wore a standard flannel nightgown that reached down to
her knees.  It had the faded image of a once popular
cartoon character on the front.  He recalled bringing it
last year.  Somewhere in his pack, Santa had a replacement
for it.

"What can I do for you, dear," Santa asked.

The girl looked away and brushed a lock of her long blonde
hair from her face.  Santa wanted to shout; he hated when
they turned suddenly shy, but he held his smile and waited
for her to work up the nerve to talk.

"Um," she finally started to Santa's relief.  "Mr Santa.
Well, you see... my little brother... he ate all your
cookies.  You know, the ones we leave out for you every
Christmas.  And... well... we don't have any more for you
and...  I don't want you to not have anything from us.  And
please, please don't be mad at my brother and not give him
anything cause he's really little and he doesn't know about
things like that yet.  Mommy and Daddy said it would be
okay and that I didn't, like, need to worry or anything,
but I didn't want you to not get anything..."

The girl blathered on as if no other house in the United
States didn't leave him enough cookies and milk to keep him
overweight and on a diet for a thousand years.  Santa held
back a sigh and let the girl wind herself down.
Eventually, the girl ran out of steam.  She pulled an empty
plate from behind her back and held it out to him with both
her hands.  Tears leaked from her eyes and ran down her
cheeks.

"Ho! Ho! Ho!" Santa laughed with a little extra joy.
"That's okay, dear.  Ho! Ho! Ho!  I wouldn't want to spoil
my appetite.  Mrs. Claus has a special dinner planned for
me, you see."

"Oh!"  She looked up at him, her blue eyes still big and
now wet.  "I just don't want to send you home, like, all
disappointed."

"I won't be," in a second he recalled the girl's name from
his list, "little Violet.  There'll be plenty of cookies
for me tonight.  Just leave me extra next year."

"But that's next year and I might forget, you know.  I'm
not good at remembering things like that.  I'm getting in
trouble all the time about not doing my homework and things
like that.  Can I make it up to you this year?  Please!"

Santa gave Violet his best reassuring smile.  Violet smiled
back at Santa.

"I'm a Girl Scout, Santa."  Her smile turned to a grin.
"And not one of those regular Girl Scouts.  I'm one of
those 'special' Girl Scouts."

Santa's smile disappeared and he didn't fight the sigh he
released before he said to Violet, "I'll be right back."

Leaving a dazed girl behind him, Santa walked into the
kitchen.  He turned to the door to assure himself that
Violet hadn't followed him, then reached into one of the
pockets of his fur trimmed red coat and pulled out a small
cell phone.  He fumbled a second with the buttons of his
stored numbers, before he pushed the send button.

"Jesus Christ," he said in a loud voice as soon as it quit
ringing.  He waited then said, "Well, get him.  This is
Santa Claus.  I've got a sitution."

"Jesus, I've got another one.  What do you mean, another
what?  I've a twelve year-old Girl Scout offering me her
nookie that's what!

"Don't tell me to calm down.  I was a good Christian, went
to church, got martyred, everything.  I even let you talk
me into doing this shit.  First, it was the heavy wooden
toys.  And the elves... Don't get me started on the elves.

"I thought things would be easier this century.  Most of
the toys are plastic, and don't weigh that much, but the
brats only got greedier.  They're worse than the elves now.
At least all the fucking elves want is time off to write
poetry and kill orcs. And they don't come on to me."

A voice could be heard over the phone.  Santa let it go for
a moment.

"Christ!  What do you mean relax?  It's not right; just go
ask Paul.  Besides, I'm several centuries too old for her
anyway.  And I've got a wife.  A very jealous wife.  You
remember what happened when that one stupid song came out.
The one about me kissing someone's mother.  Yeah, that one.
I slept out in the reindeer shed for three years after
that.

"Not that bad!  Jesus, you never done it for three fucking
years."

The voice could be heard again.

"I want you to talk to her.  That's what you can do about
it."

Santa left the kitchen.  Violet stood where he had left
her.  The tears had dried on her cheeks, but she still had
a sad look in her eyes and her smile had turned into a
little pout.  Santa went to one knee next to her and placed
a mittened hand on her shoulder.

"Violet, you know what Christmas is all about don't you?"

The girl nodded.

"Can you tell me?"

"Giving?"

"Besides that."

"Peace on earth?"

"And why should there be peace on earth?"

"Because George Bush is an asshole?"

"Besides that."

"Is it that baby Jesus stuff?"

"Yes, Violet.  It's that baby Jesus stuff."  Santa held out
his phone.  "I have Jesus on the line.  Can you talk to him
for a moment?  He'd like to talk to you."

The girl nodded.  Santa gave her the phone.  Violet held it
to her ear.  The voice spoke from the device.  The girl
nodded her head as she listened.

At last, she said, "Okay, I didn't know.  Thank you, Jesus.
And have a happy birthday."

She handed the phone back to Santa.  He shut it down and
slipped it back into his pocket.

"Now, Violet.  Do you understand why you can't give Santa
any nookies?"

"Yes, Jesus told me that you're almost as big a wimp as
that Gamera guy."

Santa let out a big sigh.

"Go to bed, Violet."

"Yes, Santa.  And Merry Christmas, Santa."  Violet skipped
away to the stair, but stopped short.

"Santa, I almost forgot."  She ran back to him and picked
up a carrot.  "This is for Rudolph."

Santa accepted the gift and shooed the girl away.  When she
left, he pulled the toys and other gifts for the children
from his sack.  He arranged them with care, using his mind
powers to place each toy in the best spot.  Before leaving,
he tapped into the minds of Violet's parents giving them
the memory of setting out (and buying) everything.

He touched his nose and magically, he flew up the chimney
to his waiting team of reindeer.  As he passed them, he
gave each a pat on the side.

"Sorry, gang.  No cookies at this stop."  He laughed a real
laugh.  "I wonder what the kiddies would think if they knew
that you ate the cookies and that I had the carrots."

He reached the sleigh and climbed in.  With a flip of his
wrists on the reins the team took off.  As they took to the
air, heading to the next town, Santa pulled the carrot from
his pocket and bit into it.  His smile disappeared and a
stricken look crossed his face.

"The carrot," Santa cried, "it tastes just like...  Oh,
damn.  I'm in the shed again."

-- 
Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights
reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated.
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