Santa's Little Helper by Bosley Gravel

Heat Rating: Zero Fire

Content Warning: Violence, Horror.

Even at Christmas, children should be careful what they wish for.

I wait patiently for this night is a special night. The tree is decorated, twinkling, heavy with candy canes and strung with dry white popcorn. I've been good, so very good. Mommy and Daddy are asleep in their beds. I can hear Daddy snoring. They drank a lot of eggnog with whiskey in it, and Mommy sat on Daddy's lap for a while.

I wonder what I'll get this year from Santa Claus? He knows I want a bike because Daddy said he would tell him. I wonder if he knows my secret wish? The one I haven't ever told anyone. That's why I'm awake. That's why it's twelve thirty on Christmas eve and I pinch myself when I feel drowsy. Sammy, my best friend from school, says Santa Claus isn't real, but I know better.

I can hear the heater turn on. The room gets a little bit warmer and I push my blankets off. It's okay to be cold that way I won't fall asleep. And what's this that makes me jump? Who but my soft white kitty, Sugarpuss, who curls up on my tummy and licks between his toes. I wonder if Santa knows I cut off all Sugarpuss' whiskers? I hope not. It wasn't that naughty, Mommy thought so, but Daddy said "Boys will be boys, Sharon," he always calls her Sharon. Someday, when I'm older, I'll call her Sharon too.

Maybe I'll just sleep for five minutes. When I wake up I'll sneak down and hide, and maybe get my secret Christmas wish. That way I can tell Sammy that Santa is real. I stroke Sugarpuss' back, and he yawns and purrs.

But when I wake up it hasn't been five minutes. It's been three hours. I lift Sugarpuss off me and put my robe on. Sugarpuss yawns and stretches himself.

"Come on, kitty," I whisper, and open the door as quietly as I can.

Daddy is still snoring as I pass by their bedroom door. I climb down the stairs one by one, and try to remember if it's the third or second that makes a squeak when you step on it. It must be the second because it doesn't make a noise when I step on the third, and then the first, and I'm on the ground floor.

I can see the Christmas tree flashing colored lights in the living room. I turn the corner, and there are the presents that were there earlier, but there isn't a bike. Everyone knows that Santa brings the real good gifts and your parents buy the little ones. So I know Santa hasn't been here yet. Sugarpuss meows and I tell him, "Sshhh, sshhh." There is a large sliding glass window in the kitchen and I sneak like a little mouse across the living room into the kitchen and look out at the snow blanket covering the backyard. The snow is falling in huge flakes, and the ground is perfect like a sheet of drawing paper fresh from the pad. I see no signs of Santa so I go back into the living room, and get onto the couch and cover myself with Mommy's afghan and wait. Sugarpuss comes to me, and I try to keep my eyes open...