Santa VS. the Zombies

He was making a list and checking it twice. He was going to find out who was naughty or nice. Santa Claus was coming to town.

According to the Decidotron 2800, over seventy percent of the children had been naughty the past year. That was an all time high, even higher than than in the 80’s, when the numbers had been split pretty evenly. He had been lenient back then, as the Decidotron 2800 had been new at the time. A child who may have been a little naughty still received their Transformers figures and Cabbage Patch dolls under the Christmas tree, because Santa was a Saint. Those spoiled children went on to become irresponsible adults, and Santa felt he was partially to blame. Even so, a 70% reading bore further investigation. Perhaps the Decidotron itself was on the fritz. Periwinkle had been bothering him to update the system to the new iDecidotron, but Santa was very old and set in his ways. It had taken much for him to agree to a computerized system in the first place, but the Elf strike of 1978 had made it necessary. The strike itself had barely been settled in time for Christmas, and the rushed production on toys resulted in more than a few disappointed children. In the years that followed, soulless toy manufacturers took advantage of the disenfranchised children by hocking their goods to them through cheaply made Japanese cartoons. Due to the trade marked manufacturing rights, Santa now had to buy most of his toys directly through these companies instead of having his elves make them in his workshop. The struggle now became finding enough money through the trade of resources.

Santa shook himself from his gloomy thoughts and reminded himself why he was at his desk. The Decidotron was showing a significant spike in naughty children following Halloween. This was common with all the Halloween mischief that went on. Santa forgave most instances of throwing toilet paper and eggs at houses, as he was a Saint, but something was different this time. Instead of children binging on candy after Halloween, they had taken to eat each other’s brains.

Santa sat back and thought about that for a moment. Living at the North Pole, he was more or less out of touch with today’s Generation. It was hard to judge a child who lived over 4,000 km away, across the frozen Arctic Tundra that kept his creditors at bay, but he knew that times changes, and every Generation brought something with it. He remembered when children thought they were being naughty for listening to Beatles records, or wearing their hair long. Now, they had taken to cannibalism. Times were strange.

It wasn’t just one or two children, mind you. There was always a bad apple in the bunch. To him it seemed like all the children at once had decided to upset their brothers and sisters by sinking their teeth into their skulls. Perhaps they had seen it on TV, or maybe it was that new Justin Bieber who got them to do it.

As he looked, he also noticed that there were fewer children than ever. At best, there should be seven billion people on the planet, and under two billion of them should have been children. It looked as if there were only six hundred million, or so, all told. Where had all the children gone?

Santa sat back with his egg nog and wondered if there could be some kind of correlation between children eating each other, and there being fewer children. Santa was very old, and there were many things he forgot. At end, he continued his research, and saw it much the same. Children eating one another, and their parents as well. Some even ate their pets. So much naughtiness, and all in little over a months. It was twelve days before Christmas, and Santa was worried the children wouldn’t be able to make up for their misdeeds before the Christmas Eve deadline. From a financial perspective, though, it was greatly to his benefit. Fewer children, and fewer nice children made for fewer presents and less work for himself. Santa was an optimist and preferred to look at things this way.

He depress the button on the intercom and leaned forward, “Periwinkle, I need you in my office please and thank you.” Santa always tried to use good manners. It especially helped around the elves, as they were becoming more belligerent as the years wore on. A kind word here and there helped to keep the peace. The last thing he wanted was another strike.

The large oak doors to his office swung open on greased hinges and in walked the relatively tiny figure of Periwinkle, all dressed in his uniform of green. He was slight, even among elves, standing barely 2’9” tall. His pointed hat and the stripes on his stockings were all designed to make he appear a few inches taller than he ought to be. Santa made sure of that when he approved the company uniforms, as he was secretly freaked out by little people. Children he loved, but short people creeped him out. He told Mrs.Claus that it was because he often mistook them for children and was ready to give them a hearty, “Ho. ho, ho!” and offer them a gift when he realized his mistake. Nevertheless, Santa smiled broadly at Periwinkle as he stood at attention before his desk. The little elf was always more formal than necessary, but reminding him of the casual nature of Santa’s business made no impression on him. He played his role as a soldier in the field, which was why he had become one of Santa’s most trusted elves.

“Periwinkle, I’ve been going over the figures, and I’m noticing an awful lot of naughty children this year. Are you aware of this?” Santa turned the bulky monitor toward Periwinkle and bathed him in the green glow of the text on screen.

“Yes, Santa. Distribution has made a note of it. We’ve increased production at the coal mine to compensate. All in all, this could be a very profitable year for us. We might even be able to pay off or debt with the toy companies,” Periwinkle noted proudly.

“Ah yes,” Santa said distractedly. He didn’t like to dwell on his deal with the toy companies. By licensing his image and selling coal on the global market, he was able to make up for a lot of his losses, but as toys became more expensive, it was difficult to close the gap. “Have we heard from the companies lately?”

“No sir, not since the incident,” Periwinkle said.

“The… incident?” Santa was confused. He’d been sleeping since Boxing Day, as was his wont. Some years he would stay up and keep a normal schedule, but as he got older, he found himself hibernating more and more often. It was difficult to refill the vast reserves of energy it took to deliver presents all over the world. He always woke up by December at the latest in time to make the final preparations for Christmas.

“Allow me to fill you in, Santa,” Periwinkle offered as he produced a flat tablet from his side pouch. Touching it, it lit up like a TV, and he showed it to Santa.

“What’s this?” Santa adjusted the wire frame lenses perched on the end of his round nose.

“This is the new iDecidotron,” Periwinkle explained.

“I thought we decided against that,” Santa made his disappointment known in his tone of voice, which was difficult given his otherwise jolly nature. He looked at the device with confusion.

“We held a meeting with the elf committee back in August, which you couldn’t attend because you were still in your post-Christmas hibernation. Mrs.Claus tried to wake you, but you couldn’t be roused,” he hastily explained. “You do know that in the event your unable to attend we have to proceed without your blessing.” It was one of the concessions Santa had agreed to end the strike of ‘79. “One of the points we decided on was to update our operating system. It’s still backwards compatible with the 2800, but as of now you’re the only person still working with the old system.”

“How many of these do we have?” Santa turned it over. He could find any buttons to push. His thumb brushed the screen and it suddenly changed to show him a different display, and he almost dropped it in surprise.

“One for every elf, and you Santa,” Periwinkle told him reluctantly.

“Oh my stars,” Santa slumped back in his chair and stared up at the vaulted rafters. “How much did that cost us?”

“The cost is moderated by the increase in efficiency and productivity,” Periwinkle explained hastily.

“How much?” Santa repeated. His chair began to spin lazily.

“I don’t know the exact figure, sir, but we were able to afford it after selling off certain assets,” Periwinkle explained.

“Which assets?” Santa became alarmed.

“We sold the oil rights for the Island of Misfit Toys,” Periwinkle told him, unperturbed.

“What about the toys?” Santa fretted.

“What about them?” Periwinkle was slightly confused.

“Where will they live? You know I try to find them a home every year with the good girls and boys,” Santa told him.

“Sir, the children, they… They don’t like those toys. We’ve looked into it, and in pretty much every case where you’ve brought them a present from the Island of Misfit Toys, it goes straight in the garbage,” Periwinkle told him sadly.

“No!” Santa was horrified.

“Sometimes they were burned in the yard. My point is, they’re not good presents, sir. That’s why we threw them all on the island in the first place. We’ve taken to recycling them to save money, and to be eco-friendly,” Periwinkle tried to put a positive spin on it all.

“You mean you kill them!” Santa was shocked.

“They’re not really alive to begin with, sir. They’re toys. We make them out of cheap plastic and lead paint,” Periwinkle shook his head sadly. “Eliminating them is just one of the cost-saving measures we’ve taken. We’re trying to modernize our entire industry. To bring things back to the subject at hand, I’m showing you the iDecidotron so we can look at one of it’s new features. We can now see streaming video of naughty children caught in the act. If I may,” Periwinkle waddled behind the desk with his curly-toed shoes and pressed the screen of the pad Santa was holding. It brought up a new menu. “This is a video taken at one of the toy manufacturers we buy from, over in China. It goes a long way in explaining why things have been so quiet on their front.” After pressing the screen a few more times, it brought up a video of a factory in China. The workers sat in long rows in white coats at an assembly line, putting bits of plastic together to make dolls. No one looked happy. It was quite different from his workshops full of merry elves.

The monotony was broken by a sharp scream from somewhere off camera. A few of the workers looked around, alarmed, but a shift manager walked by and told them to keep working. He struck one of the workers violently in the back of his head, and he immediately bent down at his station and picked up his tools. Then another scream came, this time even louder. The worker did not look back up, so he did not see the main entrance burst open. A worker dressed in the same white coat as him fell backwards through the door, only his coat was splashed with red. The man scrambled backwards on his back a few feet, but the bent and twisted figure above him collapsed over him and began to tear away at him. Blood gushed out from the man’s neck as the strange