All characters in this story are over 18
This story is inspired by the Billy Bob Thorton movie of the same name.
Carl was a degenerate. Carl was a foul-mouthed, drug addicted, alcoholic, overly unpleasant man. Carl was also Santa. From October, all the way through Christmas, every year, Carl was Santa. He would go from mall to mall, stinking of piss and beer, cursing children behind their parents' backs, and ruin their Christmases. The only reason Carl had not been outlawed from the entire Santa community was that he had a real dwarf with him as an elf. Satchmo stood three foot four inches, was black, and was extremely endearing as an elf, to both children and adults. Satchmo was such a good elf, that he was somehow able to keep Carl employed as Santa, despite his multitude of character flaws.
Carl was at the bar, well into his own bottle of scotch, when he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. He turned around, expecting to find some upset parent looking to complain about his treatment of their child, as he so often did. Instead, he turned around, and saw a very pretty young blonde standing in front of him. Carl being Carl, he blatantly looked the girl up and down, stopping for a long time at her ample chest.
"Hi there Santa," the girl said with a big smile, "I'm Brandi."
"Well hello Brandi," Carl slurred, still staring at the girls chest, "I'm Ca..."
"I know who you are Santa," Brandi said, interrupting him before he could say his name.
"Right," Carl sighed, "I'm Santa." He began to turn around so he could continue getting drunk, but Brandi reached out and stopped him.
"You know you were always a really big deal in my house growing up," Brandi said, and Carl prepared himself to have to shout at this fine young girl to leave him alone.
"Ya I bet," Carl said, and took another shot of whiskey.
"My dad spent years making sure we believed in you," Brandi went on, "he used to leave hints and clues and all kinds of things to make sure we still believed."
"Well that's pretty fucked up," Carl said, and then let out a burp.
"I actually believed in you until I was eighteen years old," Brandi said.
"Oh ya," Carl said with a raised eyebrow, "and how old are you now?"
"I'm twenty-two," Brandi said, and Carl smiled and stared at her tits again. "I used to love going to the mall to sit on your lap," she went on, "it was one of my favorite things about Christmas."
"Is that right," Carl said, finally beginning to be interested in what she was saying.
"Oh ya," Brandi smiled, "the last time, just after I turned eighteen, I sat on Santa's lap at the mall, and while I was talking to him, I could feel his candy cane start to push into my leg."
"His candy cane?" Carl repeated, trying to tell if she was being serious or not.
"Well, that's what my dad told me," Brandi said, "that was the last time he let me or my sisters sit on Santa's lap."
"So you haven't gotten to sit on Santa's lap in years then," Carl said, and Brandi nodded sadly, "and it was your favorite part of Christmas huh?"
"My very favorite part," Brandi beamed.
"Well Brandi," Carl said, surprisingly getting her name right, "how would you like to sit on this Santa's lap? Although I cant promise my candy cane wont poke you in the leg."
"That would just make my day, my week even," Brandi said, clapping her hands excitedly, "can we go to my house though, that way my sister can sit on your lap too. I know she misses it as much as I do."
"Ok, is this some kind of fucking scam or something," Carl said, finally getting too suspicious, "did Satchmo put you up to this?"
"Satchmo?" Brandi asked, looking confused.
"Ya, my elf, Satchmo," Carl said angrily, "a little black asshole, did he put you up to this?"
"Nope," Brandi said, "I just saw you here all by yourself, and I thought I'd ask if you'd let me sit on your lap and tell you what I want for Christmas."
"Uh huh," Carl said skeptically, "well lets go then." As much as this seemed crazy, he couldn't pass up such a bizarre but intriguing opportunity.
"Great," Brandi said, "you can do the Santa voice right?"
"Santa voice?" Carl repeated.
"Ya, you know, Santa voice," Brandi nodded, "you don't talk like this to the kids do you, you must have a Santa voice."
"Actually I do talk to the kids like this," Carl said, "those little shits don't know the difference."
"Well can you do a Santa voice, its important."
"Ok," Carl sighed, "ho ho ho," he said in his best Santa voice, which he hadn't used in years, "merry Christmas little girl, what can Santa get you, or have you been a naughty girl this year?"
"Perfect," Brandi beamed, "lets go." She grabbed Carl by the hand, and pulled him toward the door. Carl went with her, still completely confused as to what was going on. As she marched them over to her car, which was a bmw, Carl was trying to think if having sex with a retarded girl was breaking any laws. They got in the car, and Brandi began driving them north. As she drove she went on and on about all the different tricks her dad used to pull on her and her sisters to make them believe in Santa. Carl wasn't listening to any of it, still trying to work out if he was breaking any laws, and if he cared if he was. Brandi pulled into a very nice neighborhood, and then pulled into the driveway of a very large house.
"Jesus, this is your place?" Carl said as she parked in the driveway.
"Well it's my daddy's place, but only me and my sister are home right now," Brandi said, "our parents went to Hawaii."
"No shit," Carl mused, "what's daddy do for work?"
"He's a senator," Brandi said casually.
"Wait, what," Carl said as they both got out of the car, "like an actual senator? Like from congress and shit?"
"No silly, from the senate," Brandi laughed, and then began pulling Carl toward the front door, "congressmen are from congress."
"Right," Carl said as he got dragged to the door. Brandi opened it with a key, and then pulled him inside.
"Hey Mel," Brandi shouted out once they were inside, "come down here, I have a surprise."
"What is it?" a female voice shouted from upstairs.
