Hey, wanted to write something silly and fluffy for Christmas! This time, it's already finished, so I will update very regularly, with the final chapter being uploaded on Christmas Day. Yes, I really have nothing better to do over the holidays, since I'm stuck all alone this year. Boo. Anyway, hope you like it, and as always, I greatly appreciate you telling me if you read it and hated it, as long as you include why you hated it. Oh, and tell me if I made typos/other-os too. Thanks!

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Santa Substitute

Chapter 1: Of Oreo's and Beards

I sneaked into the house through the chimney, trying to be careful. Slowly, I tiptoed to the small, three-fourths deceased Christmas tree, and placed four perfectly wrapped presents underneath, next to several unrecognizably disheveled gifts. Really, college kids thought that wrapping something in Kleenex and tying a bow around it was good giftwrapping. I snorted, then glanced around warily, knowing that one of them slept on the couch every night. He was still asleep. I glanced at his naked feet poking out from the tangled blanket, and had to laugh. They were rubbing together, trying to stay warm, but never thought of reclaiming the covers. As quietly as I could, I shuffled that way, trying to make my footsteps lighter. I was pretty heavy. He muttered something in his sleep as I tucked his feet back in and grabbed a cookie. They always left Oreo's, which weren't my favorite kind, but I ate a couple anyway and gulped half the milk away. My eyes wandered back toward the boy, and I couldn't help but notice that the blanket had slipped from his upper half as well. I sighed and tucked it around his chin before turning to go. Or rather, trying to turn to go. The little brat had a hold of my beard, pulling it away from my face. I could practically hear the elastic stretching.

"Santa?" he asked groggily, looking at my horribly undisguised face. I reeled back sharply, and the confounded beard snapped me square in the mouth. I stumbled but thankfully didn't fall. With that stupid fat suit on, it would have been awfully hard to get back up. The boy stood abruptly, still staring at me. I stared back. No one was supposed to see Santa.

"Hey, Santa's not a--!" In a panic, I threw an ample amount of my special Forget You Saw Santa glitter into his face. He sputtered and rubbed at his eyes, and I made my hasty retreat up the chimney.

Okay, I think I have some explaining to do, so let's backtrack a little. It all started my sophomore year of college, when I decided to get a job as a substitute. It wasn't horrible pay, and I had mostly evening classes, except a couple on Tuesdays and Thursdays, so I figured it was perfect. I was even more excited when I was asked to do a one-day substitute job for one thousand dollars. Of course I said yes right away, before I realized that the job was on Christmas Eve--all night. I decided it would be okay, since my family was going to the beach for Christmas, and I hated the beach. I was told to meet some guy named Nicholas, but not where to meet. Of course, with finals and then Christmas shopping, I did not realize this information was missing. And actually, I'd forgotten about the job altogether. I hadn't even wondered about what kind of school would need a substitute on Christmas Eve. Since my parents' house would be vacant the whole break, I'd offered to watch it for them, and they'd agreed. On Christmas Eve I set up the tree, put some lights on the bushes out front, and cooked myself a delightful dinner of Hamburger Helper. I lit a bunch of candles, put on my fluffy black robe, and settled down to watch "The Muppet's Christmas Carol." Quite abruptly, something fell down my parents' chimney, shooting out and practically scaring me to death. I leaped off of the couch, the muppets began singing about how awful Scrooge was, and a tall, ebony-haired man brushed himself off by the fireplace. For some reason, I didn't scream.

"Wow, that's different without the fat suit," the man noted to himself as he reached up into the chimney as if to pull something out.

"Fat suit?" I echoed. He nodded absently as he pulled a large, red bag from the chimney. I gaped. The rat muppets were doing a terrible job of closing up shop.

"You haven't forgotten about our meeting, have you?" the man asked. I blinked one eye rapidly. He raised an eyebrow.

"You…what…?" I managed, trying to get my eyes to blink in unison. The man sighed as if he got that all the time.

"I'm Nicholas. You're my substitute for the night."

"Oh. But how…chimney?" I demanded intelligently. He smirked.

"Don't worry, that's your job tonight." He eyed me as if sizing me up. "You're almost as tall as I am, so the fat suit should fit all right…"

"Fat suit?" I wondered again. He pulled the horrendous thing from the red bag with some effort, and held it in front of him. I swear, my chin hit my chest.

"Is this some weird fetish of yours?!" I finally managed a coherent sentence. "You can't just break into my house and then demand I be your sex slave in a fat suit!" My left eye blinked, then my right. He blinked both eyes.

"What?" he asked, perplexed. "You're taking my place as Santa Claus for the night. You have all the qualifications."

"Santa Claus?!" I wailed. "You psycho! Get out!" I made a mad dash for the poker by the fireplace, but it disappeared before I got to it. Nicholas shook his head. The Muppets were still singing and doing silly things, but I didn't notice anymore.

"Here, let me show you. I'll give you what you wanted for Christmas when you were six, but didn't get. Okay?" He dropped the fat suit, which made a disgusting gloosh noise, and turned to his bag again. He rustled around in there, pulled out a Santa costume, then stuck his arm back in. I watched in some sort of morbid fascination, for some reason not really afraid. Then he pulled out a little brown Dachshund puppy and held it out to me. It had an adorable little green bow around its neck, and it blinked sleepily at me. I stared, transfixed by the exact thing I'd wanted so badly that year, wondering how this complete stranger had known.

"You got everything else you wanted, but your parents forbade the puppy." He shrugged. "Here, take him." I took a tentative step, then another, but stopped a few feet short of the squirming animal. Nicholas sighed and closed the space, dumping the puppy into my arms. It snuggled up to me and began chewing contentedly on my index finger. I looked back up at Nicholas, who was smiling charmingly. I then had the distinct realization that this was all a dream, and nodded.

"Okay, I'll do it."

"Of course you will. Now put on the fat suit."

"Fat suit?!" I shrieked. Nicholas grimaced.

"I wish you'd stop repeating that. Just take off your robe and put the suit on. It's quite uncomfortable if you wear clothes underneath."

"It's probably quite uncomfortable anyway!" I resituated the puppy in my arms and added, "Forget it!"

"You get used to it. It's lined with velvet, so it's comfortable and warm. You're wasting quite a bit of time. If you don't want to be fired, I'd suggest you get a move on." He picked the fat suit back up and waved it in my direction. I grimaced. Since it was a dream, I knew that being fired wouldn't matter in the waking world, but…What if it set off a chain of unfortunate events that eventually left me a dancing monkey in my least favorite professor's class? I would wake up in a cold sweat on Christmas morning. No one wants that. So I set the puppy down and grabbed for the fat suit, and Nicholas let go. Immediately, due to the unexpected weight, I lost my balance, and fell face first into the carpet. He laughed.

"You've always been funny," he noted, still chuckling, as he helped me up. "Now hurry." I turned away, trying to drag the fat suit toward the bathroom. "Oh!" The Santa costume was suddenly piled into my arms.

"Do I have to wear the beard?" I whined.

"Yes. Now go. You're taking forever," he replied irritably. I lugged the stupid suit all the way to the bathroom, took off my robe, and began wiggling my way into the velvety depths. I got all the way in, then realized when I tried to reach back to zip it, that I wasn't very mobile. I kept trying, and I could feel the veins popping out in my forehead with the effort. "Are you done yet?" Nicholas called.

"No!" I practically choked out. "Can't reach…zipper!" I tried again, but to no avail. Nicholas barged in and quickly zipped me, then put the costume over the fat suit, making sure that the beard was in the proper place before striding back toward the living room. I followed as best I could, waddling in what I was sure must have been a comical manner.

"I should've known that it would swallow you. You're smaller than I…" He trailed off as we neared the fireplace. "Okay, just follow me." He grabbed the bag and the puppy and disappeared up the fireplace. I tentatively moved to peer up the shaft, but toppled over due to the weight of the suit, and wound up sprawled all over the wood in the fireplace. Suddenly, I was being sucked up, and I screamed when I realized that I actually fit. I closed my eyes, so I'm not exactly sure how I came to be standing on the roof, facing a sled with a bunch of deer. I raised an eyebrow in irony. What a bizarre dream I seemed to be having. I looked around, but couldn't find Nicholas anywhere. I stepped closer to the sled and noticed a note on red paper, written in impeccable gold.

Nova,

Just hold the reins and sit tight. The reindeer know what to do. And don't worry about the puppy, I'll take care of him until you return.

Thanks,

Nicholas

P.S. Really just hold the reins. Don't snap them or anything, that pisses them off.

I sighed and glanced at the reindeer, who were all staring blatantly at me. I climbed into the sled and grabbed the reins. Naturally, the reindeer moved very fast. So fast, in fact, that everything zoomed by at such an alarming speed that it actually looked like the warp drive in Star Trek. Suddenly, I was somewhere in Mexico, and being sucked down a chimney with the red sack mysteriously in my grasp. I pulled out two presents and placed them by the tree, then filled the stockings. I noticed little Laura asleep in a soft chair, and wondered how I knew her name and what she wanted for Christmas. I shrugged and was sucked back up the chimney, and moved on to the next house. Then the next, and the next, and the night stretched on. I only had one mishap in which I tripped over an extension cord and almost didn't get up before waking the whole house. Eventually, the reindeer brought me back to my parents' house, and I was sucked down that chimney. As soon as I was through the chimney, I, being more used to the fat suit, managed to strip myself of it all and climb back into my black robe before I crashed on the couch.

I awoke Christmas morning to something licking my face and the smell of something distinctly chocolate. I sat up and rubbed my face groggily, stretching. I tactfully ignored the wriggling puppy on my lap, until I realized that there was a wriggling puppy on my lap. I stared at its cute, brown, Dachshund self as it snuggled into a warm spot by my leg. Suddenly, it all clicked, and I leaped up, barreling into the kitchen. Nicholas gazed at me from his position by the stove, where something was cooking. I blinked one eye rapidly at him. He smiled.

"You had a busy night. It's no wonder you slept until two in the afternoon," he announced. I screamed and jumped him, pulling on his cheeks and hair and ears, all the while shrieking something to the extent of "You can't be real, can you?!?!" He took it pretty well, merely batting my hands away and making shush noises until I settled down a little. Settled down meaning that I was hyperventilating quietly to myself on the floor. The puppy came bumbling in and I groaned, leaning against the cabinet beneath the sink. I was handed a mug, and didn't bother to look as I took it, taking a whiff. It was hot chocolate with marshmallows. I took a shaky breath into it.

"None of this can be real," I said to myself. Nicholas sat on the floor facing me, a mug of hot chocolate in hand.

"It is real," he informed me. My right eye blinked, followed by my left. He laughed. "Don't take it so hard, Nova. It's an honor to be a substitute Santa." I laughed at his statement.

"Do you realize how absurd this sounds?" I asked before taking a tentative drink of the chocolate. It was delectable.

"Like it?" he asked. "Chocolate's my specialty." He beamed as I nodded. "Well, chocolate and tacos," he added hastily. I cocked my head at him, wondering why he thought it was important that I know his other specialty was tacos. Instead of investigating further into his culinary talents, I changed the subject.

"So, why did you need a sub? And why don't you look anything like Santa? How old are you, anyway? Why aren't you in the North Pole right now?" I took a bigger drink.

"I use the fat suit just like you. I'm older than you, and I don't live in the North Pole." He took a sip of his hot chocolate.

"But why did you need a sub?" I pressed. If he was just being lazy…

"If you must know, I've been seeing a woman for about a year now, and I asked her to marry me last night." He sighed.

"What?" I replied. "So she's going to be Mrs. Claus?" He shook his head.

"My last name's Williams, not Claus. And she turned me down anyway." He stared into his mug, and I suddenly felt a little bad. Why would I do that to some guy I'd made up? Why wouldn't I make him happy? I reached over and patted his arm. It felt real.

"It's okay. You'll find someone. Everyone eventually does," I assured him. He sighed and conjured a white rose that seemed to send off a gentle stream of gold glitter that never touched the ground.

"I gave this to her, but she gave it back. You can have it, if you want." He held it out, levitating above his palm, to me. I shook my head.

"No. I couldn't take that. That was a gift to your girlfriend."

"It's not like I'm giving you the engagement ring. I don't have any use for this, and it'll die in a few days, anyway." I took it by the stem tentatively, and stared at it closely. If this was real, and I was really going to be paid a thousand dollars, I thought considering a more permanent employment might be a good idea.

"How old are you? Isn't Santa supposed to be ancient?" I blurted out. He smiled.

"Do you want to know my literal age or physical age?" he asked. I studied the sparkles coming from the rose.

"Both."

"My physical age is thirty-two. But quite literally I'm forty five."

"That's not very old," I scoffed. "I was expecting something more like one hundred-eighty." He laughed.

"No. I'm fairly new to this, actually." He glanced at his watch and announced, "Well, I'd better be going." He waved his hand at the pot still on the stove and stood. The mess cleaned itself. I distinctly felt my eyes bug out. Then, with a wave, he left the kitchen, and, I assumed, disappeared up the chimney.

That was the beginning of my career as one of Santa's little helpers.

Now, where were we?…

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Cliffhanger, sort of. Anyway, please tell me what you think! Part of the fun of fictionpress is the ability of the authors and readers to interact, after all.