My Christmas Stories

Santa vs Aliens

Dressed in his familiar red suit, Santa sat by the cosy fire, a small pile of unopened letters on the table in front of him. He felt depressed. The pile was even smaller than last year. Apart from the demands for the ubiquitous ipad, there were only a few Barbie requests, a doll's house or two, a smattering of scooters and bikes, and not a single request for a teddy bear or Noddy book in sight.

A gentle snore from Donner—or was it Blitzen?—broke into his thoughts. It was rather crowded, not to mention a bit smelly if he was honest—having eight reindeer sleeping in the cottage around the fire, but it was cold outside.

Santa turned his attention back to the letters. What was happening to the children of today? Where were the piles and piles of letters he used to get, asking him for anything from a matchbox car to a pony? Didn't children believe in Santa anymore?

He opened the next letter and snorted. There was the problem, right there! Star Wars! Children of today didn't want Santa—they wanted Aliens.

Everything from cute E.T, to Dr Who and the Daleks, to Alien monsters, but the biggest culprit of all was Star Wars. He still remembered the humiliation of appearing alongside Darth Vader at numerous shopping malls in the 1980s, accompanied by the Imperial March instead of Jingle Bells. And no prizes for guessing who had got the most applause and attention, either. Now they were releasing yet another episode into the cinemas, complete with toys, games and advertising merchandise.

Even worse, too many children now expected to go with their parents, straight to the shops to buy what they wanted, cutting out the middle man—Santa. It could hardly be the same, he thought sadly, unwrapping a present on Christmas morning that you had already seen.

Sighing, he pushed the pile of unopened letters to one side. Time to take the sleigh out for a run, that would blow the cobwebs away!

"Okay chaps! Wakey, wakey! Rise and shine. Let's get this sleigh up in the air."

Grumbling and muttering under their breath, the eight reindeer scrambled to their feet and ambled out the door, in no hurry to get to the snow.

"Come on lads, turn those frowns upside down!" said Santa as he bustled around, buckling on the harnesses.

Prancer and Vixen exchanged exasperated glances. Too much time with the under sixes had left its mark on the big man.

A few minutes later they were all ready and waiting to go. "Now, Dasher! Now, Dancer! Now, Prancer, and Vixen! On, Comet! On, Cupid! On, Donner and Blitzen! Let's dash away! dash away! dash away all!" called Santa and they were off, flying into the starry sky, the white snow glistening beneath them.

The stars looked extra bright tonight, thought Santa as he settled down to enjoy the ride. In fact, that one due North was getting brighter and brighter. Was it a meteorite? A falling satellite?

Whatever it was, it was heading straight towards them.

One second the object was shining with brilliant intensity, almost dazzling—then the next it blacked out, revealing its presence only by the absence of starlight behind a long, ovoid shape.

It almost looked like a fighter plane—except—it wasn't. It was a spaceship.

The craft slowed abruptly to match the speed of the sleigh. Now less than a kilometre away, unless it changed direction, the estimated time of collision was two minutes.

The darned ship was no doubt full of aliens, thought Santa, and scowled. This was the last straw. Not only were aliens stealing away his livelihood, but now they were trying to ram his beautiful sleigh.

He didn't like getting cross—it tended to scare the children—but this was too much. It was time to show them who was boss. Time to fight back.

He whipped a giant super-soaker out from the back of the sleigh and fired at the approaching craft. "Take that, E.T. !" he yelled.

A huge fountain of water (far more than would have issued from a normal super-soaker) spurted over the ship, turning instantly to ice. The ship faltered in its path, plummeting a few feet under the unexpected weight before the ice melted. Santa fired again, and again.

Eventually the ship fell to the snow, immobilised. A door opened in the side and large insect-like aliens in armoured space suits burst out, wildly waving their weapons. Brightly coloured laser beams split the night sky. Weaving between the rays, Santa seized an X-box controller from his collection of toys and fired back at the aliens. Each hit caused a satisfying flash of light and small explosion. Soon there was only one big alien left standing.

Santa pressed on the controller but nothing happened. The battery had gone flat. He hunted one-handed through the toys, holding the reins and trying to steer the sleigh with his other hand. Discarding My Little Pony and a box of Lego, his hand seized on a long, slender object. Santa hesitated. He so didn't want to use that, but beggars couldn't be choosers. He grabbed it firmly then landed the sleigh next to the big alien.

Quickly he clambered out of the sleigh, gripping a Star Wars light sabre. Close up the alien was large and menacing, breathing heavily through its face mask. For a second it reminded Santa all too painfully of Darth Vader. Slash! Slash! The alien didn't stand a chance. It toppled over, oozing green ichor as it died.

Wiping the sabre clean on the snow, Santa turned to the reindeers.

"Well, that fixed his little red wagon!"

Comet rolled his eyes. They really needed to get Santa out and about more, he was in dire need of some adult company.

Santa smiled with satisfaction and rubbed his hands. "Let's head for home, lads. Time for some mince pies and mulled wine."

(Author's Note - this story originally appeared in Tevun Krus #23 "Holiday Special: Festival Edition" from 2015. You can click on the External Link to find the complete edition)