Diana’s jaw drops as she turns to face her twin. “Are you crazy? We’d end up on the naughty list for sure!”
“We’re already gonna end up on the naughty list for being out of bed on Christmas Eve and for almost killing Santa Claus. Can’t we at least get something out of it? If Santa takes us to the North Pole we can tell everyone at school about it and we’ll be the coolest third graders in the whole freakin’ world.”
Diana pauses, considering the delightful image of Molly Robinson’s face when Diana tells her that Santa Claus is actually Black. Then, she shakes her head and gives Michael a scathing glare.
“No way, we’re not doing that.”
Michael sighs, rolling his eyes. “Fine, let’s go get some peppermint hot cocoa from the pantry. The scent of the powder might be able to wake him up.”
Diana nods and leads the way toward the kitchen. Michael follows at a slight distance, and, unbeknownst to his sister, grabs a long, cast-iron candy cane stocking holder and hides it behind his back.
Diana flips on the kitchen light and enters the walk-in pantry. She peers around at row upon row of colorful boxes, searching for the peppermint hot cocoa.
“Hey, Michael, where’s the–”
“I’m sorry Diana, but I have to see the North Pole.” With that, Michael pushes the double doors of the pantry shut, slipping the candy cane through the handles to prevent Diana from escaping.
Diana pounds on the door with her fists. “Michael, let me out!”
“Diana, keep up that racket if you wanna wake up Mom and Dad.”
The pounding and shouting ceases immediately. Michael grins at his handiwork, then runs back toward the old man in the living room.
After examining the sleeping Santa and determining his relative height and weight, Michael envisions exactly which lights he’ll need to restrain Kris Kringle. He pulls the perfect string of lights from a bin stuffed away in the closet. After untangling the long green wire and its colorful bulbs, he drags it back to the living room where Santa still lies.
“I have to hurry,” Michael whispers to himself, taking note of Santa’s twitching fingers. The boy moves swiftly and delicately as he props the old man up and ties him up next to the fireplace. Santa’s hat droops in front of his face as his lolling head hangs helplessly. Finally, the bonds holding Saint Nick are secure, and Michael lifts the man’s head up, leaning it back against the fireplace to keep it upright. Michael then shoves a dish towel, which, ironically, has a cartoon Santa Claus on it, into Santa’s mouth.
Okay, Michael thinks, How do I wake up Santa without waking up Mom and Dad?
He pauses, stroking his chin thoughtfully until the idea hits him.
“I can just poke him.”
Michael begins roughly poking Santa in his stomach, ears, arms, and even eyes, though he avoids poking those too hard. After a minute of this incessant poking, Michael’s wet willy finally stirs the bearded old man. Santa’s big, round eyes fly open and he looks around in horror. His face hardens as he takes in his situation, and he locks eyes with Michael. Michael shivers as those dark brown eyes stare into his soul. Nevertheless, he begins the speech he’s been preparing in his head.
“Good evening, Mr. Claus. My name is Michael Hardy. You’re probably wondering why I’ve tied you up and gagged you.” Santa nods ferociously, eyebrows raised. “Basically, Santa, I want you to take me to the North Pole and show me around. And until you promise to take me, I am going to leave you tied up here.”
Santa furrows his brow, but Michael continues with his matter-of-fact tone. “Mr. Claus, you probably should just agree to take me because nobody but my twin sister and me know that you’re here, and she’s…preoccupied.”
Santa appears to be thinking hard, even with the hand towel stuffed tightly in his mouth. After a few moments, Santa starts to mumble something resembling English, so Michael leans forward and snatches the towel away. Santa clears his throat and starts to speak, his eyes glinting from behind his silver-rimmed glasses.
“Michael, it’s very nice to meet you. I wish it were under different circumstances.” Surprisingly enough, the old man smiles at Michael before continuing. “Now, do you really want to force me to take you to the North Pole?”
“Yes.”
Santa smiles at first, then falters. “Oh. That’s not the response I was expecting” He purses his lips, still thinking hard. Finally, he relaxes and begins to speak.
“All right Michael, you win. Once you untie me I promise that I will take you in my sleigh to visit the North Pole.”
“Right away? As soon as I untie you?”
“Yes, as soon as you untie me.”
Michael nods with an evil grin dancing across his face as he begins to untie the Christmas lights, working away at knots and yanking the cords from the fireplace doors. When Michael finally frees Santa, he rises to his feet like any old man does: slowly, with lots of grunts and cracking noises.
Santa bends over to gather his sack of toys, which Michael hadn’t even noticed hiding in a dark corner. Slinging the bag over his shoulder, Santa adjusts his hat and glasses.
“Follow me.”