We all love our jolly fat man of Christmas, but behind the depictions of Santa that we all know and love lurks a dark secret. It all began on the night before Christmas when I was eleven years old. I had plans to stay up all night so I could meet Santa Claus himself, so after my parents went to sleep I came out into the living room. I situated myself on the couch by the Christmas tree but quickly dozed off. I was woken back up when I heard the sounds of what I thought to be jingling bells in the distance which I assumed to be Santa on his sleigh. Quickly, I made sure that there were cookies by the Christmas tree to please the fat man of Christmas on his arrival. But as the sound of what I thought were bells got closer I could clearly make out that it was not the sound of bells, but the sound of bones! I heard something at the front door and I knew it must be the Claus, but I feared for what that sound was and what he would do when he saw me. Before I could react the door swung open and I saw the man of Christmas in his true form. Tall, pale, and dressed in red, was the spookiest skeleton I had ever seen. It all made sense now. There was no way someone could deliver that many presents in one night and still be alive. I snapped to my senses when Skeleton Claus (that's what I'm calling him from now on) looked right at me! That's when he let out a jolly "Ho Ho Ho" which helped to ease the tension. We then got into a deep conversation about politics. When he realized the time, Skeleton Claus said he needed to be heading out, so he unloaded the presents under the tree then walked over to the cookies. Skeleton Claus angrily yelled "WHY DIDN'T YOU GIVE ME MILK". At this moment I knew I screwed up. Skeleton Claus then picked me up and ate me. So remember, always leave milk out on Christmas Eve or else you will end up like me.

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