Prisoner S. Claus

"Cut the crap, buddy. My partner and I have your file. Your list of aliases is longer than my arm. Kris Kringle, Santa Claus, S. Nick..." the officer droned on.

"Actually that's Saint Nick," he pointed the error out politely.

"Whatever. Look, you aren't some do gooder if you have all these aliases. Admit you broke into the Smith's house to rob them then we can all get some sleep," the officer did look pretty tired.

"Officer Dorkin...," the Jolly fellow began.

"Alright old man, I've told you already it's Detective Duncan and this is my partner Detective Crispy. No jokes. We've heard them all already," and Detective Duncan seemed to be about at the end of his rope.

"Well don't worry, I prefer cookies," the perp responded.

"So you went into the Smith's house to steal some cookies? Now we are getting somewhere," the one called Crispy moved forward, his face hovering terribly close to Claus.

"No. I don't steal from the houses, Detective. I leave things behind," he sighed resignedly. This interrogation had been going on for hours and yet it just kept going around and around, getting no where.

"Like what? Bombs? Dead bodies? What?" asked Detective Duncan.

"Nothing bad," the jolly old elf protested. "I leave gifts for the children and sometimes for the adults if they've been very very good."

"So you're a child molester?" the Crispy one interjected.

"Hell no! I mean I love children but not like that," he was getting so sleepy. Too much cookies and cocoa did him in every time. "I leave them presents, toys and clothing and such. I am certain when you were children you remember getting such surprise gifts."

"Shut up!" growled Detective Duncan. "Now you are talking plain foolishness. I never got any surprise gifts." He turned to his partner. "Maybe we ought to get a psych evaluation on the case. This guy is a little off his rocker."

"Maybe," Crispy replied. "The alleged perpetrator seems to be suffering from delusions."

Santa Claus sighed loudly. "For the last time, I am not a criminal! Now could you please release me? I have a lot of homes left to visit tonight."

"Ah ha, so you do plan to hit some more places tonight?" Duncan moved his face up close to the overweight mature man. He did like the guy's long fluffy white beard and twinkling blue eyes but he wasn't going to fall for his charming good looks. "You don't seem to be grasping the fact, old man, that breaking and entering is a crime. It doesn't matter if you didn't take anything, you broke and you entered."

"Begging your pardon," Mr. Claus interjected. "I did not break anything. I slid down the chimney."

"Down the chimney?" with raised brows Crispy asked. "You are a bit porky if you don't mind me saying so it must get awfully tight in those chimneys."

"Pipe down, Crispy," his partner interrupted. "He just admitted he climbed down their chimneys for nefarious purposes. We have our confession. Let's just move him to a cell."

"WAIT!" the old guy's cheeks got as rosy as his red suit. "I can't go to jail. I have more children waiting for me!"

"Waiting for you? Why would they be waiting for you, old man?" Duncan asked with a questioning lilt in his voice. "Did you prearrange a meeting? Is that it? Then we can book you on that as well. Planning to kidnap a few of the kiddies, were you?"

"No, for the last time, no I do not steal children," groaned Santa Claus. "I merely bring them presents once a year and no, not nasty presents unless they were bad. Then usually I just put some lumps of coal in their stocking."

"Coal, why coal?" this perplexed Crispy considering very few people actually used coal anymore. "Never mind, we still have you on breaking and entering and a few other charges. Let's go, big guy. You're spending the night in the tank at least tonight, if not a few more nights, maybe even a few years. They will love you up at that big house."

"What?" the big guy protested. "I can't go to jail. I have gifts to deliver then more to make at my home. And my wife will wonder where I am."

"Your wife? Is she in on this entire caper?" asked Crispy, his eyebrows lifting with interest as he continued interrogating the stupefied and skittish Santa.

"Well no, she does help me with the toys and going through the lists of good little girls and boys but that's all," Claus answered with a smile, thinking of her delicious apple cider she served him while he worked.

"Cuff him already, Crispy; I'm tired of his yammering in circles. We'll put him in a cell for a few nights and see if that gets him a bit more cooperative. He'll be pretty popular up in the big house. They like the big guys up there, with the red cheeks and the nice wide hips." Duncan yawned.

"What? I am not going to be some man's toy in the big house," Santa protested loudly. "I have done nothing wrong but merely continued on with an age old tradition of bringing holiday cheer to families around the world."

"So we have broken an international crime ring, you are telling us?" the ears pricked up on Crispy's nearly bald head. Visions of dinners in his honor and medals being awarded him danced in his head. "We might get a commendation then, Duncan."

"I'd just as soon get some coffee and a donut. Then perhaps a nap. Cuff the guy and let's move," Duncan told his partner gruffly, getting too tired of Santa Claus running circles around them to even care at this moment about promotions or raises.

Crispy put the cuffs on the prisoner as the prisoner howled in indignation, "You both are on my bad boy list for next year."

"That's a laugh, like we are on your list at all," Crispy said although he did look a little worried when he said it. "Come on, I'll lead you down to the holding cell, big guy. I'm sure the other prisoners will enjoy hearing your stories. After all, it is a holiday so the place is pretty packed."

"I want my lawyer," Santa Claus cried. "You two are going to regret this!"

And the last words he said as he was lead out of sight were "Happy Christmas to all and to all a good night!"