Santa's Lock Down

chapter one ☃

❝ Merry Christmas. Merry Christmas. Kiss my ass. Kiss his ass. Kiss your ass. Happy Hanukkah. ❞ --Clark Griswold, "Christmas Vacation."

chapter one ☃

Getting a phone call at four am was not part of Jake’s bucket list.

Groaning slightly, turning around until his face was buried in his luxury feathered pillow, was his automatic reaction. He blindly reached out, patting the air until he found his nightstand, fingering his way to the bright and annoying ring.

As he picked up the phone limply, he pushed the green button, then turned around once more on the comforting mattress so he could actually talk.

“Hello?” He grumbled quietly into the phone. And overly perky voice replied, making Jake cringe noticeably. “Hi! Jake Trevor Mason, right?”

Jake nodded sluggishly, forgetting that the other end couldn’t see him. “Of course it is, Santa never gets the phone number wrong.” He heard a less bright voice argue over the other end. Jake listened to static, then smirked in amusement.

“Hello?” He asked once more, and there was more ruffling on the other end. As Jake took the phone away from his ear, his finger hovered dangerously over red button. “Wait, no! Jake! Don’t hang up!” A voice screeched over the other line.

Jake’s eyes widened in surprise. “Can you see me?” He asked in awe, wiggling his fingers up at the ceiling as a wave. The other line snorted as he did so. “You look stupid.”

The smile slipped off Jake’s face as he ferociously glared at the wall. “What do you want from me?” He snarled, all friendliness washing away. The person on the other end sighed, then began talking. “Jake Mason, are you willing to help Santa?”

As Jake listened to the other end, he burst out laughing, nearly wetting his pants. “Santa? The fat dude that has a beard and goes ‘Ho ho ho!’?” He asked, rolling his eyes. He took the phone away from his ear once again, nearly positive that it was some rotten teenagers playing a prank on him.

“Wait no, Jake!” The other end screamed. Jake sighed, and pushed the phone to his ear once again. Why did he do that? I don’t know. I don’t even think he knows. “Seriously, what do you want? I’m not paying ransom for my non-existent daughter or wife, I’m telling you. They don’t exist.” He said with a tired and irritated groan.

“Jake Mason, you listen to me right now.” Jake crossed his eyes lazily, staring up at the ceiling. “Don’t go all funky with your eyes!” The squeaky voice on the other side reprimanded.

“Get to the point. Who are you?” Jake deadpanned, tapping his fingers on his lavender bedspread. He closed his eyes and breathed in the comforting smell of the light colored bed sheet. Maybe the other end wouldn’t notice if he just dozed off a little. He felt his comfy bed slowly lulling him back to sleep, his warm covers thrown on top of him the furry blanket tickling his arms. “I’m an elf!” The peppy voice cried into the phone, making Jake snap awake. He clutched his forehead with his free hand, and sighed into the phone, beginning to get a migraine.

“I don’t know who you are, or what you want, but I do know one thing. Your voice is making my head hurt like the underworld, and elves are mythical creatures.” Jake paused for a second, before snickering at his own words. “Oh, wait. Pardon me. That was two things.”

The overly enthusiastic voice on the other end had switched into a loud and boisterous voice, making Jake groan once more. “Listen up here, punk. Don’t be so rude to my sister. We are real, and we’re living on the North Pole, but Santa has a problem.” The voice said, attitude seeping into his voice.