Steve Hockensmith: Naughty-Nine Tales of Christmas

Big Buck was not one of those professional Santa types you read about who grow their own beards and love children and act like playing St. Nick is a role worthy of De Niro. Big Buck wore a phony white beard that was always a little bit crooked from being yanked by the screaming kids he obviously loathed. And he didn't smell like peppermint and warm cookies, the way you think Santa should. He smelled like sweat and cigarettes and Pabst Blue Ribbon. And his deep-fried drawl was all wrong, too: Last time I checked, the North Pole is not south of the Mason-Dixon.

But at least his belly was real. And he laughed really loud. And he liked to sneak into people's homes at night. I didn't learn that last bit till later, though.

Big Buck had a love-hate thing going with me at first. Or I should say a lust-hate thing. I was the only female elf, which would've been bad enough without the costume I had to wear: red tights, a green felt smock and a red stocking cap, all about two sizes too small. I could barely squeeze into any of it. I was like a felt-wrapped sausage.

This led to a lot of ogling from both Big Buck and a disgustingly high percentage of the dads I had to deal with. I was the greeter elf, the one in charge of maintaining order in the line of supplicants to King Claus. When Junior's time came, I'd walk him up the path to the stairs in front of Santa's throne. Then I'd go back to the head of the line to make sure mom and dad didn't spoil this special moment by getting too close. Another elf-Arlo Hettle, a slumming college kid like me-would step up and take a picture of Junior and Big Buck with an instant camera. Then the third and final elf, a rat-faced little troll named Kev Kane, would hustle Junior away while I brought up the next kid. I found it deeply depressing that Kev was as old as me and Arlo put together. If I was still elfing when I hit 40, I'd hang myself with a string of garland.

Still, I've got to say it: I was a natural… at the kid-herding part, if not being holly-jolly. Within an hour, I had the moves down so pat-collect child, step step step, leave child, step step step, repeat-I could've done them with my eyes closed. Which left me free to notice things like the come-hither looks Big Buck kept giving me. The really creepy thing, though, was the way he'd spaz out if I came too hither at the wrong moment.

"Y'see that gingerbread man there?" he snapped at me after I brought up Kid #48 of the day while Kid #47 was still on his lap. "I don't ever wanna see you or anybody else on my side of that while I'm talkin' to a youngster."

"O.K.," I said, thinking, " Youngster"? You look at them like they'recockroaches .

"It throws off my concentration."

"O.K."

"If anyone so much as sets a toe beyond that gingerbread man, there's gonna be trouble."

"O.K."

"I need to give the little ones my full attention. I don't want any distractions."

" O.K. I understand."

He smiled at that. "Good. Now tell me. You a naughty girl or a nice one?"

As you can imagine, keeping my distance from Big Buck was not an issue for me. If that gingerbread man had been in the next county, it still would've been too close.

At the end of my first day, I asked Arlo, the camera kid, about Jolly Old St. Dick as we got ready to bolt for home. Arlo shrugged.

"He's been like that since day one, man." He pushed a big pile of long, wavy hair out of his face-a gesture he had to repeat about once every three seconds. "He's like all, 'Back off or I'll kick your ass.' And that Kev guy is like, 'Don't crowd Big Buck, dude.' And I'm like, 'Oooooooo.K. Whatever. I'm just here to take the pictures, bro.'"

"Big Buck?"

"That's what Kev calls him. I don't call him anything cuz I don't talk to the man, you know what I'm sayin'?"

"So Kev and 'Big Buck' are friends?"

"Sure. Kev got him into the suit after Mr. Haney and Becky got hurt."

I sighed. Arlo was nice but not great with explanations. "Becky and Mr. Haney?"

Arlo nodded. "Yeah."

I sighed again. "And they are…?"

Arlo laughed that zonked, stoner-guy, donkey-bray laugh.

"Oh, right. You didn't know them. Mr. Haney, he was the first Santa-the one before Big Buck. He was pretty nice, except he always used to say things to me like, 'Just say no' and 'Users are losers.' Weird, right?"

"Yeah," I said. "Go figure."

"Becky was a greeter elf. They both lived on the East Side, so they'd, like, carpool. But one night some drunk ran 'em off the road. They ended up in the hospital."

"So Big Buck replaced Mr. Haney and I replaced Becky."

"No, you replaced Cheryl. She quit two days ago. She replaced… man, what was her name? Michelle. Yeah. Michelle replaced Becky."

"So why did Cheryl and Michelle quit?"

"Man, you're like Oprah or something. What's up with all the questions?"

"I want to know what I'm getting into, alright? Things around here just seem a little… I don't know… off ."

"You got that right. I'd quit except my gig is just too easy. Point and click, point and click, all day. I show up stoned half the time and nobody notices."

Sure they don't , I thought.

"So Cheryl and Michelle…?"

"Oh, I think it was a Big Buck thing, y'know what I mean? He's hot for elfettes."

I thanked Arlo for the four-one-one. Perhaps thinking this had been some kind of relational breakthrough, he asked me if I wanted to go "get baked." I politely declined, went home and told my mom about the freaks I had to work with. Her response: "A job's a job." She said it in that Conversation Closed tone of voice that told me she thought I was just looking for an excuse to quit.

And I was. And I kept right at it.

By the end of my first week, I was convinced Kev and Big Buck were pervs. You know-molesters. It fit the facts. You've got these two nasty-looking old lowlifes insisting on complete privacy while they talk to little kids all day? It seemed so obvious. I couldn't understand how those parents could just stand there while their pride and joy sat helpless on Big Buck's nasty old lap. Half these people looked like they'd been on The Jerry Springer Show back in the day, probably throwing chairs at each other during an episode called "My Mom Married a Satan-Worshipping Transsexual!" Yet the idea that something sleazy was going on right under their noses seemed completely beyond them.

Something had to be done, and it looked like I had to do it. I'd either get Big Buck fired or get myself fired in the process. It was a win-win.

Three times a day, we got to put up a sign that said, "FEEDING THE REINDEER-BACK IN 15 MINUTES." Arlo would spend his break getting toasted in his Hyundai. Kev and Big Buck always went off together for "a little pick-me-up" somewhere… or so they said. Sometimes Big Buck would invite me along, but I had better things to do-like find an empty stall in the women's bathroom and read cheesy thrillers, which was my usual routine. But one day while Santa and his other elves were off replenishing their Christmas spirit with various controlled substances, I went to see the woman responsible for the mess at the North Pole-Missy Widgitz, Olde Towne Mall's promotions director.

A quick introduction to Missy: Imagine, if you will, a six-foot two-inch Amazon with kabuki makeup, five-inch stiletto heels and hair teased up so high the Swiss Family Robinson could build a tree house in it. Now imagine that said Amazon fancies herself to be quite the on-the-go career woman. Now imagine me puking every time I had to deal with her.

I poked my head into Missy's office, and of course she was barking into the phone, deep in wheeler-dealer mode.

"Have you been over to River Valley Mall, Charlie? They've got real elves over there! Real elves ! Oh, you know what I mean-midgets, dwarves, hobbits, 'wee people,' whatever they're called."