The Mall By Nicki Redes

“Mommy, why does Santa only come once a year?”   

Nicki Redes

Nicki Redes

Oliver’s words burst through my stale thoughts. 

“Because he can only make so many toys, sweetie.  Those poor elves would never get a break if there were two Christmases,” I tell him in my chipper mommy-voice.  I sigh, hoping my answer satisfies the four year old boy genius at my side.  At home, in the peace of my own living room, snuggled on the sofa with him and a book, I might be inclined to come up with something more creative.  Perhaps I would tell him all about the North Pole and Santa’s workshop and the eight or nine reindeer and all of the other bullshit that goes along with the secular Christmas story.  Right here, right now, I’m more likely to pull out a semi-automatic weapon and start letting rounds fly into the mall crowd.  And then the speakers, playing the endless loop of holiday music.  Those would be the next to go.  Continue reading


Last month, I recycled that fowl story of how my little burb in the mountains shot and killed Tom Gobbles, our beloved town turkey in celebration of Thanksgiving.  Well, it’s December, which means it is Christmastime, so if you would indulge me, I would like to recycle my real-life childhood story of when I met Santa Claus.  Before your imaginations run wild, he was not the rotund, pink-cheeked icon of Norman Rockwell and Coca-Cola fame; I am talking about the real honest-to-goodness, flesh-and-blood Santa dude.

I grew up in a not-so-well-off family.  My father was a career military intelligence officer Continue reading