09-15-2007, 05:12 PM
A hundred kids erupted into cheers and applause as my belly bounced into the hot, convoluted room, followed closely by the rest of me. It was my personal duty to bear to bear idealized dreams, all while wearing a fake beard and a massive smile. I wish they both could have been real. Cancer had invisibly ripped my face apart, and every follicle was as sterile as my ex-wife.
The laugh wasn't too difficult. Standing here as the subject of cheering and love made things almost natural. And as I took my humble chair, and festively gave a "Ho ho ho", the very first child burst from the line and seated himself on my lap. And as he sat there, he poured out all of his hopes and dreams into a material request, and I, playing the part, gave him a subtle wink, telling him everything would be alright. And so, he would hug me, sometimes with a whispered expression of love, and run off. And then, the next child would repeat the process, until the entire line dwindled down, and the mall closed.
As store managers began to set alarms and lock-in security grills, I numbly make my way out of the mall. Usually I can make it there before a breakdown, but today was particularly crushing, and I make for the closest closed door, a bathroom. And there, the final step - I begin to weep. The work was too much to bear, too much for one man to carry alone. Too many dreams might be crushed come Christmas. And on that morning, when they find that the winking, jolly old man at the mall didn't come through, the first degree of innocence will melt away.
That the only way to keep that purity alive was through a lie was the very thought I would not allow myself to think.
The laugh wasn't too difficult. Standing here as the subject of cheering and love made things almost natural. And as I took my humble chair, and festively gave a "Ho ho ho", the very first child burst from the line and seated himself on my lap. And as he sat there, he poured out all of his hopes and dreams into a material request, and I, playing the part, gave him a subtle wink, telling him everything would be alright. And so, he would hug me, sometimes with a whispered expression of love, and run off. And then, the next child would repeat the process, until the entire line dwindled down, and the mall closed.
As store managers began to set alarms and lock-in security grills, I numbly make my way out of the mall. Usually I can make it there before a breakdown, but today was particularly crushing, and I make for the closest closed door, a bathroom. And there, the final step - I begin to weep. The work was too much to bear, too much for one man to carry alone. Too many dreams might be crushed come Christmas. And on that morning, when they find that the winking, jolly old man at the mall didn't come through, the first degree of innocence will melt away.
That the only way to keep that purity alive was through a lie was the very thought I would not allow myself to think.