Day 300: Kidnapped by Santa

The Prompt: You wake up in a daze only to find out you’ve been kidnapped and are currently tied up to a chair. After hours of unsuccessfully trying to escape, a door starts to open. Your kidnapper is none other than—Santa Claus? Write a story explaining why Santa kidnapped you and what he intends to do with you.

     It was dark.  My wrists hurt from the chafing, and this chair wasn't very comfortable.  I hadn't seen Santa since he had shoved my into a velvet sack smelling of peppermint.  I had been a little skeptical of believing in Santa since my teenage years, but not even I could deny the North Pole cold, the elves, the industrious atmosphere of the workshop, or the twinkle in Santa's eye before he locked me in this dark room, I assumed his office.  Meeting Santa was sort of like meeting Jesus, not that that's an accurate comparison.  It's just how the two would make you feel if you stared into their faces.  You just know.

     I wasn't sure how long I was tied there before Santa finally walked in again, carrying a tray with hot chocolate and slice of Mrs. Claus' pie.  He locked the door behind him, set the tray on his broad knees as he eased into a chair across from mine, and took the gag off.

     "How are you feeling?" he asked jovially.  "I thought you might be hungry so I brought you little something to nibble on.  Mrs. Claus is famous around here for her apple pie, but I prefer the cobbler."

     "Why did you kidnap me?" a voice mixed with shock and indignation answered.

     "Oh, cut right to the chase, huh?"

     "I thought Santa was a happy, giving  guy, not someone who commits federal offenses."

     Santa set the tray on his desk and sighed as he rubbed his brow.  "Mark, it was not an easy decision for me to do this to you, but it was the only solution I could think to stop you."

     I was taken aback.  "Stop me, from what?"

     "In the last few years, you haven't had much Christmas spirit, not since your paycut, the move, and your girlfriend leaving you."

     My face was red, and I stopped myself from asking him how he knew those things.  The answer was obvious.

     "Now I feel terrible for adults who suffer through rough patches.  After all, they're the ones who need my gifts the most.  I miss giving you gifts, but I can't reward people who don't believe in me anymore.  That would take away from the young at heart who do believe.  But when you start affecting children, I need to make it my business."

     He didn't need to explain that part.  I used to be one of the top history teachers at a private school, but two years ago, I had to settle for a crummy public school job.  I hated it, and I guess I took it out on my second grade students.  I had a reputation for being one of the meanest teachers at school, but I could get results.  I was also dubbed as the worst Scrooge anyone had ever met.  I guess I killed more of my students' Christmas spirit than I thought.

     "You needed an intervention, my boy, before you hurt anyone else, especially yourself.  Your so-called 'friends' couldn't help you anymore, so I took matters into my own hands.  You used to be one of my biggest fans, so I figured the best way to get you to believe in me was to show you what you had longed to see when you were little."

     "Santa's worshop," I thought.

     "Let's get you untied, now that I know you won't try to beat me up, so I can show you around."

     Santa's plan was working already.