Christmas in July

Imagine the Great Depression. Over a quarter of the country is out of work. People have lost years worth of hard-earned wealth over the span of a few months. Banks are closing, no one has easily available access to their funds. Creditors and debtors alike are ruined and unable to make ends meet. Most companies' stocks, assuming they still exist, are worth mere pennies. Once well-off people in all walks of life face starvation. Every day, another violent riot springs up in another part of the country. Each day looks bleak and every tomorrow bleaker.

Now imagine that it's even worse than that and the cause of the mighty catastrophe is due to a laughing, flying fat man who traverses the skies every night flinging out multitudes of expertly wrapped gifts. "Ho, ho, ho!" He bellows with such jolly gusto that it's almost impossible to feel any malevolence towards him. "Merry Christmas!" Then, down from his magical red sleigh falls a shower of red and green boxes with festive ribbons attached.

Toys and stuffed animals! Shirts, ties and dresses! Electronics and cheap trinkets! Socks! Underwear!

Sometimes the presents are followed by a rain of walnuts, and those who survive the hailing onslaught stampede to gather the windfall of food.

The sad fact of the matter is that, after many years of controlled dementia, senility had hit Santa Claus with full force. After a few weeks of Christmas in July, the economy had collapsed and plummeted to impossible, irreparable depths.

Thanks a lot, Kringle.

Oh well, at least the kids love it.

Raw Ingredients

"Pop-Pop Ben's Pizza, can you hold please?"

"Sure, no problem," Eric responded into his sleek cordless phone, the battery pack dangling from the end due to the missing cover on the back. He expected to hear the soothing loop of Pop-Pop Ben telling him what great specials his store had to offer, followed by a review of the fresh ingredients used in all of his pizzas. Instead his ears listened to a barrage of silence and a very faint hiss from the earpiece.

"Hello?" He queried after a moment.

Eric quickly figured out that the young woman had made the mistake of hanging up without placing him on hold.

No problem, I'll just call again, he thought. His fingers repeated the numbers with quick accuracy.

"Pop-Pop Ben's Pizza, can you hold please?"

"Yes," Eric said. Surely she wouldn't make the same mistake twice.

Again, nothing but silence broke through the receiver. Eric bit his quivering lower lip nearly to the point of breaking the skin with his teeth. He put the phone down on the kitchen counter with gentle urgency and placed his head in his hands.

God, what's wrong with me, he thought as he began choking back tears that were welling within his green eyes. I didn't do anything to her, why is she hanging up on me like this? He pulled his hands down his face, stretching the wet skin down until he finished the dramatic gesture.

Eric glowered at the phone, the speakers on both sides of the receiver stared back, taunting him.
Right, he thought, picking up the phone with his trembling hand. His fingers pressed each number with extra force and determination.

"Pop-Pop Ben's Pizza--"

"--Wait, wait. Don't put me on hold and hang up this time," Eric said, the pleading tone in his voice turning to a seething rage that had been bottled up. "I've had enough of this in my life. Y'know what, I just got dumped by my fiancee -- actually it was more than just dumped, it was more like oh, finding her in bed with two of my best buddies. That's right, my fiancee cheated on me with two people at the same time. On my bed, wearing her wedding dress even! God, do you know what that does to a person huh? Oh yeah, yeah, and I was passed over for a promotion the other week by some chotch who's only been here for a couple of months while I've been blistering my butt off for the past two and a half years. Oh I know the reason, it's because he went to Harvard! Ohhh big bad grade-inflated Harvard grad thinks his pompous ass knows more than I do about -- rrrrgh, c'mon! My bosses think he deserves it more just because he went to that Ivy-League rich-daddy school? Damn damn damn! Oh, and did I mention that my ex-fiancee stole most of my stuff after I caught her in that gangbang? Now take my order and don't you dare hang up!"

"Could you hold please?"

"Fine!"

Silence permeated the air for a minute or two before Eric discovered that she had hung up again. His body was found hanging in his bedroom three days later.