Whiskey Santa Part 3: Santa Goes to Hell

Mr. Waterson lay low in his study, upstairs. His shotgun was trembling in his sweaty palms as he waited for Santa to come howling through the night again. "Come on, you bastard!" he muttered to himself.

"Ho-Ho-Ho...Merry Christmas!" said a surprisingly jolly voice. It sounded like how the true Santa Claus should sound like.

Mr. Ian Waterson turned around like a guerrilla fighter getting ready for an ambush. He pointed the shotgun's barrel at his office door. There was a muffled thud from downstairs. "Come on out! I know you're here, you son of a bitch!" When nothing happened, Mr. Waterson slowly made his way downstairs. The stairs creaked loudly, announcing his arrival, but he didn't care. He didn't have anything left anymore. "Turn around! I wanna see your face as I pull this trigger!" yelled Mr. Waterson, as he caught Santa placing presents by the fireplace. There was no tree or decorations this year. Only a wild man patrolling an empty house with a shotgun.

Santa turned around. To Mr. Waterson's surprise, he looked jolly and fat, and sober. "Hey, Ian..." said Santa. "I got you a new present. If you want to pull that trigger, then pull it. God knows I deserve it."

The shotgun trembled in Ian's hands as tears streamed down his cheeks. He couldn't kill this jolly man standing in front of him, behaving as innocent as a newborn fawn. "You! You took everything from me! Everything! And now you come strolling in here all proper, for the first time in your fucking life...and you expect me to just forget the past? That little demon that you summoned, that you forgot to take back with you last year, has taken my family! I haven't seen them for months! I know in my heart that they're dead, and it's your fault!" Mr. Waterson's index finger began to tighten around the trigger.

"You're right. It is my fault...but they are not dead. They're simply, in another world with different rules and values," replied Santa. "I've decided to quit drinking. It's been three-hundred and sixty days since my last swig of whiskey. Mrs. Claus arranged an intervention with the help of the elves, and they convinced me that I need to lay off the sauce. Too many people get hurt whenever I drink, and being Santa Claus and all, that ain't a good look."

Mr. Waterson's index finger moved away from the trigger. "You're going to make this right. Use your ring, or whatever it is that you need to use, and give me back my family."

"I wouldn't recommend that," replied Santa.

"To Hell with you and your 'recommendations.' You're doing it, and afterwards, I'm gonna take you out into the woods, and put you down once and for all, you son of a bitch!"

Santa exhaled sharply. "Fine. I owe you that. But just be warned, your shotgun isn't going to do anything inside the realm of demons. As I said, it's a different world with different rules and values." Santa took out his ring and extended his gloved hand. "Take my hand, and I'll teleport us to the realm from which I had summoned the imp. I'll show you your family, even if it is the last thing that I do."

Mr. Waterson took his hand, while holding the shotgun in his other hand. He'd made sure to pack plenty of shells. "What now?" he said, when nothing happened. Santa was holding his hand tightly. Mr. Waterson could feel Santa's strength radiating through his gloved, sausage fingers.

"Now, we burn." Santa picked Mr. Waterson up and threw him into the fireplace. With a twist of his ring, the flames engulfed Mr. Waterson's body, burning him hot and cold. Before Mr. Waterson could let out a scream, Santa jumped on top of him with all his weight. They burned together until the light of this world turned into shadow, covering their eyelids like a blanket of decay.

Mr. Waterson inhaled deeply and rubbed the soot off his skin. "What? What the hell was that!" he frantically yelled.

"Quiet! They'll hear us. We have to whisper. We are in their world now, remember? If they catch us, they'll skin us alive." Santa stood up and extended his hand again. Mr. Waterson took it, and together, they slowly made their way through the dark cave.