PUT IT ALL ON RED

[open on Virginia, a young, attractive 20-something woman, sitting on a window seat looking out into a foggy night; eerie chords play in the background]

Voice-Over: Yes, Virginia, there is a Santa Claus.

[transition to a gently-burning fireplace]

VO: You might have your papa hire men to watch all the chimneys on Christmas Eve…

[ashes fall onto the fire, extinguishing it]

VO: …but even if they did not see Santa Claus coming down on Christmas Eve, what would that prove?

[switch to a policeman on a rooftop, slowly backing away from the camera]

VO: Maybe just that they didn’t survive the night?

Policeman: God help us.

[switch to Virginia, lying in her bed, staring up at the ceiling while something creaks above her]

VO: So yes, Virginia. Santa Claus is real.

[brief clip of a reindeer hoof pawing at a shingle, then a reindeer muzzle exhaling softly into the winter air, before switching back to a close-up of Virginia’s face as she lies, terrified, in bed]

VO: And he’s coming for you.

[four more seconds lingering on Virginia’s face, before switching to quick-moving montage]

Dramatic, operatic music plays.

[Virgina runs down a dark alley as Santa’s sleigh bears down on her; Virginia’s friend, Amy, uses a flamethrower to torch the Christmas tree in the park; Virginia and her love interest, Tyler, are sitting beside each other on a bus]

Tyler: (jokingly) What’s the matter – worried you haven’t been good enough this year?

[several grotesque, goblin-like elves crawl over the top of a roof; a car is speeding down a street, skidding slightly on the ice as it flees from two galloping snow demons; Virginia and Tyler’s face are just a few inches apart, under a sprig of mistletoe]

Virginia: I’m worried I won’t make it to the next one.

[Tyler opens his front door, revealing a small, gift-wrapped package on the doorstep with blood leaking from the corner; a side shot of Virginia and Tyler’s interlocked naked torsos, as they passionately kiss; a group of policemen stand in a doorway as one looks in confusion at the piles of small, black rocks heaped in the entryway of the building – after a couple seconds, the chief picks one up and examines it]

Dramatic music comes to crescendo before stopping abruptly.

Chief: It’s…coal.

[close-up of the chief’s face, as a look of horror dawns upon it]

Chief: (screaming) Everybody get out of here!

Dramatic music continues.

[policemen being thrown from an exploding building; Tyler lying sprawled on the floor as a figure in red pulls a whip from behind his back; Virginia crouching behind a couch, panickedly trying to load a gun; POV shot looking down at a child sitting on Santa’s lap in the mall, screaming in horror; Amy’s hand slipping from the edge of a sleigh; Amy falling toward snowy rooftops below]

Amy: VIRGINIAAAAAAAA!!!!!

[black and silent; then, the words: THIS CHRISTMAS]

Eerie child-like voices: You’d better not shout, you’d better not cry, you’d better not move, I’m telling you why…

[close-up of Virginia’s mouth, speaking into her cell-phone receiver]

Virginia: (terrified whisper) He’s in the house.

[Santa Claus slowly steps out of the shadows, but his face remains hidden]

Santa: (in a demonic growl) You’re on my list, Virginia.

[close-up of Virginia’s face]

Virginia: Which one? Naughty or nice?

[close-up of Santa’s face, still in shadow]

Santa: Neither.

[black; then, the words: HE’S COMING TO TOWN]

Eerie child-like voices: Santa Clause is coming… (voices fade out before end of song)

8:00 AM – After getting very little sleep, I struggle to get myself out of bed, succeeding only by reminding myself that in 3 days’ time I’ll have a whole month’s paid vacation.

8:10 AM – I shower, dress, and eat a breakfast of figgy pudding with an Irish coffee.

8:50 AM – I cross-check the naughty and nice lists with our current inventory. We’re still 3,000 lumps of coal short of our quota because of the mining accident in mid-November.

9:00 AM – Daily status meeting. Pitnick, Santa’s Executive Assistant, snidely asks me if there are any new crises in my department. I mention the coal, say the matter’s under control, and then spend the rest of the meeting imagining him burning in the defective toy incinerator.

10:00 AM – Heraldine, the Toy Production Manager, gives me her status report. Apparently we don’t have enough wiring to finish all the toy robots. I tell her I’ll have to get back to her about a solution.

10:30 AM – Meeting with the Reindeer Handler, where he reminds me of Kicker’s peanut allergy. I assure him that all presents containing peanuts have airtight packaging this year. He goes on a rant about how difficult it was to train a new reindeer, and I agree to accompany him on a full inspection.

12:15 AM – I write a speech for Blitzen’s Memorial Service, which I had forgotten about until this morning.

1:30 PM – Over lunch, I talk to the Head of the Elf Union about getting the workers back in the coal mine. She stares at me silently for most of the meeting, but eventually pours her hot chocolate over my head.

2:35 PM – I take another shower and make another Irish coffee.

2:55 PM – Hibbles from IT comes to tell me that some of the security cameras in Toy Storage Unit 23 are malfunctioning. I tell him to pretend to fix them, but instead remove the wiring and send it all to Heraldine for the toy robots.

3:30 PM – I go over Santa’s route with Pitnick so that my department can load the toys into his sleigh accordingly.

4:20 PM – The Puppy Production Manager comes, ashen-faced, to tell me that one of the gingerbread puppy pens collapsed. I go to survey the wreckage. There were no survivors.

5:30 PM – I call for my dinner, and my assistant brings me a small gingerbread house from the kitchens. I decide I’ve lost my appetite.

6:00 PM – I check the list of children who said they wanted a puppy for Christmas, then call Heraldine in and tell her we’re going to need another 200 stuffed puppies made in the next couple of days. I make a mental note to give her a raise.

6:35 PM – I decide to take a breather. I run into Pitnick in the break room, and he makes a joke about how I’m “sitting around, as usual.” I manage to spit into his coffee while he’s not looking.

6:50 PM – I begin the long, arduous process of filling out the paperwork for the collapsed gingerbread puppy pen.

8:50 PM – I realize that I haven’t made any presents for my children yet. I go retrieve some from Toy Storage Unit 23.

9:30 PM – Heraldine comes to me with a toy-related crisis: the wiring I gave her for the toy robots was faulty, and about 3,000 units now burst into flame when you turn them on. I tell her to put them all with the toys for the naughty kids.

9:45 PM – I congratulate myself on killing two birds with one stone, have a nightcap, and go to bed.

Dear Santa,
I hope you’re well. How are things with Mrs. Claus at the North Pole? They must be pretty good, since I’m guessing you only kiss your elves when you’re inside your workshop at the Eastpoint Mall in Baltimore, away from prying eyes. If a remote control helicopter isn’t underneath my tree on Christmas morning, my next letter will reach Mrs. Claus by New Year’s.
Happy Holidays!
Samantha Collins

Hi Santa,
This Christmas, I would like a new Kindle, with some books already on it: preferably The Fault in Our Stars and The Lightning Thief. However, failing that, I would also settle for a reporter covering the story of how I discovered a dismembered reindeer hoof in my backyard last Boxing Day.
Best,
Jamal Werti

Santa,
How are you feeling? Pretty well, I imagine, since the slow-acting poison I laced your Christmas cookies with last year shouldn’t start affecting you until this January. Don’t bother having your elf medical team try to save you – the poison is undetectable, and I have the only antidote, which I will happily give you in return for an iPhone 6. We can make the exchange behind the garage at 9:00 PM on Christmas Eve. Come alone.
Sincerely,
Natalie Ortiz

Hey Santa,
Thank you so much for the diary you gave me last year. The handwritten note was especially thoughtful. You have such nice handwriting – I’ve been practicing my own handwriting so that I can write as nice as you someday! I wonder if you’ll send me a handwritten note this year. Like, maybe you’ll send me a scrapbooking kit this year with a note that says “NAUGHTY KIDS DIE!” Ha ha, just kidding. You’ll probably just send me a boring set of nerf guns with no note.
Merry Christmas,
Billy Park

Dear Santa,
I’ve been having lots of fun on my mom’s computer lately. Have you ever heard of this cool program called Photoshop? You can do so many fun things with it! I’ve been practicing with Photoshop, and I’ve gotten really good at making things look really realistic. Anyway, this Christmas maybe it’d be cool if I got the newest version of Photoshop, so I could get even more creative! Or maybe you’ll just get me the new Assassin’s Creed and Borderlands games, and I’ll get distracted and forget my little Photoshop hobby. Up to you!
Can’t wait to get my picture taken with you at the mall,
Jordan Quimbey

“The perfect book for when you just want to curl up in an armchair next to the fire, but the armchair is wobbly because one leg is shorter than the others.”
—The New York Times 

“A must read. Lincoln Sedlacek beautifully captures what it’s like to be a terrible author.”
—Christopher Paolini 

“Unbelievable. I refuse to say anything good about this book unless you remove all of the parts with the hamster.”
—Beverly Cleary 

“Lincoln Sedlacek has done it again! I keep changing my phone number, but he keeps on managing to call me to ask me for endorsements for his book.”
—George R. R. Martin 

“America has a new favorite author, and his name is Lincoln Sedlacek.”
—Lincoln Sedlacek