SANTA CLAUS vs. THE BAD-ASS VOLCANO MONSTER

SANTA CLAUS vs. THE BAD-ASS VOLCANO MONSTER

By: John Bogle

Tommy waited impatiently in the darkest, most secret corner of his living room. The Christmas tree his family had put up weeks before was illuminated and shone bright enough to shame the stars. He had planned this all year and tonight was the culmination of all his meticulous planning and (admittedly abstract) training. He didn’t know how long he had waited there, cramped between the couch and the wall, but each moment was an anxious eternity. Snow fell unconsciously outside the window and the wind gasped lightly in asthmatic stutters.

Tommy had been an only child for most of his life. Each Christmas, each birthday, each and every day of every month of every year he had enjoyed the privilege of two wonderful parents who loved him with all of their hearts. They had coddled him and spoiled him (it’s easier than you think) for eight whole years; life was wonderful for Tommy and he wished that nothing would ever change!

But things did change and in a big way. This Christmas had to be shared with a weird little monster made entirely of waste and phlegm; a ball of loose flesh whose sole purpose in this world was to howl and scream loud and long enough to ensure his parents would never notice Tommy ever again. His parents had told him it was his sister but he knew it was a demon straight from the pits of the underworld sent to vanquish his joy.

But tonight, he would escape that little beast and join Santa at the North Pole. He didn’t know what he’d do when he got there but it didn’t matter much. What was important is that he would be half-a-world away from his so-called sister and he was sure there would be plenty for him to do once he arrived.

Suddenly, a soft thud caught Tommy’s ear. As fast as that, there he was; not too tall and very round, rosy and white-haired and dressed all in red. His nose was the size of a nice strawberry, with only a slightly less intense hue. He went right to work retrieving each gift from his magic bag of toys, placing each of them under the tree, before headed straight to the milk and cookies.

“Quick; while he’s not looking,” Tommy thought to himself. And, no sooner had he thought it than it was done. He was quick and he was quiet. Carefully, Tommy climbed into Santa’s magic bag of toys and positioned himself among the virtually endless boxes. He listened carefully for Claus’ movements; chewing, a hearty gulp, and now…

The bag lurched upward with a suddenness that left Tommy feeling shaken. He might have gasped, but it wasn't to be heard over the now rushing wind that howled overhead. It became impossible to discern intention from reaction as he was tossed about the magical sack and up became a totally different direction from up, though not necessarily down. He thought they had stopped and started one-thousand times or more when the deafening scream of the wind began to decrescendo into a modest whistle.

Tommy sat perfectly still, cherishing the stability granted to him. He sat a few moments before gathering his senses and began to tune his ears past the whistling wind. Tommy slowly leaned forward, his face furrowing in concentration;

“Is Santa whistling, or is it just the wind,” Tommy thought. He leaned farther forward before shifting to his knees. “He is definitely whistling.”

Deciding that all was well, Tommy sat back down and began to relax. He chuckled as he imagined his parents waking on Christmas morning to find him gone; that’d show ‘em. The gentle sounds of the winds were beginning to sound soothing to him. Here he was, the luckiest kid alive! Riding in the back of Santa’s sleigh with the winter winds singing just for him!

Santa moved effortlessly from home to home, in and out of each as quick as could be; quicker than that! Time stood still for St. Nick that night, the temporal river frozen by his wintery magic. At each home, after he descended the chimney or appeared by the tree, he would set aside his bottomless bag of toys and consult his list. He would choose gifts for each and every nice boy and girl and set them under the tree. Then, he would eat his cookies and drink his milk before continuing on his journey.

It was pure luck that Tommy wasn’t discovered that night. He had burrowed deep into the bag, under what seemed like hundreds of boxes, to ensure he wouldn’t be detected. Even still, Santa’s hands came too close for comfort on more than one occasion. With luck on his side, however, Tommy managed to stow away for the entire trip.

He didn't know how long he had been sleeping there, hands behind his head and dreaming pleasantly, when he was jarred awake by a violent thud and what could only be described as a roar. But it wasn't the wind; it was a repulsive, bone twisting roar coming from something with breath and from the overwhelming volume Tommy knew that this thing was large.

He started forward, eyes wide with shock, and heard Santa urging the Reindeer to top speed. He could hear the fat, jolly Saint cursing as he jerked at the reigns. Swallowing his fear, he began to edge up to the top of the magic bag. He raised his hands to the edge and slowly raised his head…

“What in blazes are you doing in there,” Santa bellowed as he caught a glimpse of the top of Tommy’s head. Before Tommy could answer, he was snatched up by the scruff of his shirt and was plopped down beside St. Nick. “No time for the story; just sit tight and try not to fall out!”

Tommy was blinded by the morning sun for a moment. When his vision began to return, he found himself staring at Old St. Nick; the mythical figure before him, lost in the awe of discovery and waning disbelief. In fact, Tommy was so absorbed in the old Man’s figure that he failed to notice the scene outside of the sleigh.

Santa’s face twisted in gruesome concentration; his hands snow-white from wrenching tight the reigns and steering his sled team as if for dear life. He saw the fear and desperation in Santa’s eyes, but he did not see the cause of that fear.

It dawned on him slowly as he turned his head to face forward. The Arctic spread out before him, on and on, a pearly white wonderland unspoiled by the world. Snow was rushing past his face and the cold wind was stinging his nose. The blankets of snow made it hard to make out the figure in the distance, but there was no mistaking its size.

It spanned 100 feet from nose to tail, black wings now blocking out the sun. Despite its enormous size, it glided through the air as if it were a dove. As it raced toward them Tommy saw that it was covered in thick, dark-red scales, each looking like a shield. It had the head of a dragon and the body of a demon, with horns like that of a ram. Tommy wasn’t aware of screaming, but he must have been the way Santa covered his mouth and held it shut.

“Now is no time for fear, Son. We have to keep our wits about us,” said Santa in a surprisingly calm tone. Tommy took a few deep breaths and gripped the seat with all his boyish strength.

The sled dipped and dodged, swerved and swooped, as the once jolly St. Nick held a gaze of intense focus. The beast held steady with their every juke and inched ever closer to the pair.

“Almost there,” whispered Santa, barely audible over the rushing wind and beastly roars. “Come on…”

The sleigh slammed into the tarmac with a crushing force that jarred Tommy out of his seat and onto his head. Instantly, hundreds of voices could be heard clamoring toward them.

Tommy was still reeling from the attack and now he was suddenly in a massive aircraft hanger that certainly had not been there before. Every surface was covered in tinsel and lights; everywhere hung enormous wreaths and beautiful glass ornaments. His mind was spinning and his senses were overwhelmed. The sights, smells, even the way the air tasted; everything was an entirely new sensation as if this hanger were situated on a distant planet and not merely the North Pole. Had he not been in an effective state of shock, he might have protested when these little people (we call them Elves) hoisted him up by his ankles and arms and pulled him from the Sleigh; he might have heard Santa recounting their harrowing misadventure to the growing crowd:

“I had just spotted the beast, rising from the cold ocean, and had adjusted my course to try and avoid detection. Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to maneuver quickly enough and we were spotted. It was at that precise moment, when I craned my neck to look back at the beast, that I spotted an almost undetectable glimmer coming from inside my sack. Without hesitation, I snatched the boy up, sat him beside me, and well… here we are.”

Many of the elves began questioning Santa Claus while a few held back to interrogate the boy. They asked him why he had come here and, most importantly, how he had managed to sneak into the magical bag. They asked him what the beast had looked like and how it had moved.

Tommy answered each question, cautiously at first, but every answer feed his confidence. Before too long he was practically a raconteur, gesticulating wildly with all the exaggerated inflection of a Vaudevillian routine. He told his story and the elves listened as closely as possible, their eyes locked on him and their ears grabbing each word as quickly as it was uttered.

They moved from the hangar, through a large set of double doors and into an even larger room filled with every conceivable type of machinery and inundated with all the unpleasant din of a factory. Santa Claus was speaking to Tommy, telling him the purpose of each machine, but he was too overwhelmed by the scene to listen.

“We’ve had to make a lot of changes over the years; gotta keep up with the times, you know. But, it’s all worth it,” Santa yelled over the racket.

They walked for a long time before they came to a plain looking door set in a small nook in a far off corner of the factory. Santa urged Tommy through and he, along with two distinct looking elves, found himself in a room not unlike a conference room. Like the hangar, the walls were covered with Christmas kitsch. Golden tinsel and wreaths, flickering lights and a large, illuminated star hung as a chandelier.

Santa took a seat at the head of a large table, and the two elves who had accompanied them sat down as well. Following their lead, Tommy sat at the farthest end of the table.

“The time has come I’m afraid, to face that which we hoped had been vanquished eons ago. It seems the spell imprisoning the ancient Volcano Beast has been broken. We must call upon our allies and prepare ourselves for the coming days. Leonard, send for The Yeti at once. Tell him I require his presence as soon as possible. Walter, I would like you to contact Gylden the Great. Tell him Nicklaus is calling up that favor;” Santa spoke deliberately. His eyes were intense and his words felt like blows to the gut. “Tommy, I’m afraid I won’t be able to return you home until the danger has passed. For now, I’ll show you to your quarters.”

It was by far the smallest room in the entire complex. Large enough for a twin-sized bed and an ancient phonograph with one Glenn Miller record. Tommy sat silently, waiting for something to happen. From time to time, he could hear bits of conversations through his door. He hoped, in vain, that someone was going to tell him exactly what was going on. His restlessness was indefatigable and eventually he busied himself with a set of Lincoln Logs he discovered under the bed.

Tommy was thinking of his parents again, only this time he felt terribly afraid. He had only wanted to scare them; to make them notice him again. He had never thought he might never see them again. He even thought of that grotesque blob of snot they called his sister and felt a sharp tug at his heart. How he wished he would have just stayed in bed…

He was mid-way through constructing a miniature version the Empire State Building (at least, that’s what he claimed it was) when his door burst open and Leonard, the elf from before, rushed inside.

“You must come with me, right away,” wheezed the out of breath elf. Tommy jumped up to follow Leonard who was now sprinting down the hallway. “We’ve got to take cover; the beast has found us!”

Leonard led them back to the conference room and disappeared under the table. He was gone for but a moment before popping back up. He grabbed Tommy’s arm and rushed them toward the back wall. Before they had reached the wall, a door began to open up where there was no door before.

The two of them raced inside to find Santa, Walter, The Yeti, and a disheveled looking young man of about 20 dressed in ragged jeans and tattered flannel. Santa, Walter, and The Yeti were immersed in chaotic debate. The young man stood silently, looking bemused. Leonard abandoned Tommy’s side and began conversing with the group. Tommy looked around, unsure of what to do. This room was unlike the rest of the complex; grey and uninviting.

“How did you get wrapped up in this nasty business, little bro,” the disheveled young man asked. Tommy recited the story, though he was now getting a little bored with it, and the young man told Tommy his name was Kyle. He had been the last student of Gylden the Great, the oldest and most powerful wizard the world had ever known. More importantly, Gylden was the last surviving wizard on Earth. Kyle had been Gylden’s last student, but Gylden had died before Kyle could complete his training.

“I know how to do some basic stuff; turning people into rats and junk like that. But, I never got around to defensive wizardry,” Kyle lamented. “That weird little guy showed up at my house ranting about my duty to Nicklaus and how I had to honor Gylden’s memory by helping to fight this bad-ass Volcano monster. I tried to tell him that I would be useless, but he dragged me up here anyway.”

“I just don’t see how we could possibly stand up to this thing. I’ve heard the legend of the Arctic Volcano Beast for as long as I can remember, but I thought it was just a myth. The elders told of his infinite power and unquenchable blood-lust. He lived in a massive undersea volcano under the Arctic Ocean and every night he would rise up from the sea to feast upon human children around the world. According to legend, one-hundred thousand years ago, Gylden the Great engaged in a battle with the beast that lasted for a thousand years. Both Gylden and the Beast were exhausted and battered from the endless warfare. The Beast had taken to the sky, as high as his wings would take him, and Gylden had followed. They breeched the outer layer of Earth’s atmosphere before Gylden could take hold of the Beasts’ tail. As soon as he had gripped the beast, Gylden spoke the incantation that sealed the beast under the Arctic ice. In doing so, he gave up his immortality to save all of Earth,” said the Yeti.

All eyes turned to Kyle, who was trying desperately to shrink himself down to near invisibility. He began stammering, hemming and hawing, doing everything he could to convince these people that he had no useful power; nothing to offer at all.

“I’m afraid you don’t have a choice,” Santa said dryly. “When you accepted Gylden’s apprenticeship, you accepted all the responsibilities of the worlds’ only remaining wizard. You have much more power than you realize; Gylden never choose unwisely.”

Santa began to outline a plan of attack: The elves were to begin converting Santa’s Sleigh into Santa’s War-Sleigh. They were going to mount two large plasma cannons and four small rail guns on it, as well as overhauling the entire chassis and installing a blast & fireproof shell over the cockpit. He and the Yeti would launch a direct attack on the beast while Kyle dug through spell books that Walter was gathering currently. Tommy was assigned to help Kyle find the ancient spell that had once locked the beast under the frozen ocean. The only clue they had was one phrase the Yeti had remembered from the legends; ‘Eieci vos pro aeterno.’

It wasn’t long before preparations on the sleigh were completed and volumes of books began being delivered to Kyle and Tommy. There was no time for ceremony or pomp as Santa Claus and The Yeti climbed into the Wintery War machine and Kyle and Tommy began tearing through the yellowed pages. The sleigh blasted out of the hangar, only to be immediately engaged in a dog-fight with the Beast.

Massive blasts from the two plasma cannons only served to stun the monster briefly and the bullets were as flies to it. Santa Claus sat at the controls, his reindeer eschewed for a small jet engine, while The Yeti manned the main cannons. Santa pulled out every ounce of skill to perform the most stunning aerial acrobatics he had ever attempted; he grew accustomed to the new controls quickly.

Tommy and Kyle tore furiously through the seemingly endless volumes of ancient spells. All of it was in Latin, so any meaning was lost on Tommy. Kyle, however, had a basic understand of the langue and had given Tommy a few key phrases to watch out for.

Suddenly, Kyle leaped to his feet.

“Eieci vos pro aeterno sub gelido campi; inlaqueaverunt usque in sempiternum in vestri own congelata infernum;” he spoke the words carefully, as if he were handling some precious thing. Tommy saw the wonder wash over Kyle as he realized what he had found. Before Tommy could react Kyle had dashed out of the room toward the conference room where the others had been.

When they entered the room, they saw only Walter sitting at the table. Kyle asked where Santa had gone, and Walter told them they were in the hangar. They dashed off, Tommy’s heart pounding harder than when he first saw the beast. As they neared the hangar, sounds of crashing and violent explosions could be heard. Nearer and nearer they drew, the ground starting to tremble beneath their feet.

“It means ‘I banish you for eternity,” Kyle said.

“What,” asked Tommy, feeling off-put by this seemingly unwarranted aside.

“Eieci vos pro aeterno means ‘I banish you for eternity’ in Latin. The literal translation is ‘I banish you for eternity under the icy plains; trapped forever in your own frozen hell.”

They blew open the doors to the hangar to find a scene of utter chaos. Massive fires consumed entire portions of the room and injured elves littered the floor. Periodically, a fireball would rain down from the sky and, upon colliding with the hangar, would explode.

“Take cover, you daft imbeciles,” a voice cried out from somewhere. Tommy took heed and threw himself under a pallet filled with toys. How he missed his parents and his sister; how he longed to be with his family now. Kyle, though clearly frightened, charged toward the hangar doors. Tommy could see Santa’s War-Sleigh swooping by from time to time, each pass punctuated by cannon fire and a sonic boom. Kyle had reached the end of the hangar and began chanting the incantation.

“Eieci vos pro aeterno sub gelido campi; inlaqueaverunt usque in sempiternum in vestri own congelata infernum;” he annunciated each syllable with unexpected force. Over and over again he chanted those words; each iteration growing louder and more commanding. Kyle’s hair began to blow in the breeze, his arms outstretched by his side:

“Eieci vos pro aeterno sub gelido campi; inlaqueaverunt usque in sempiternum in vestri own congelata infernum.”

Kyle began to levitate as he shouted the incantation. Tommy crawled out from his protective pallet and ran toward Kyle. As he came closer he could see the beast in the sky. Santa was pummeling the demon with plasma and bullets, but there was little effect. Tommy’s eyes were locked on the spectacle; his mind was frozen in terror and awe. Suddenly, Kyle’s voice filled the entire air, reverberating inside of Tommy’s head. The force of those words threw Tommy to the ground, and as he recovered his composure, he glimpsed Kyle floating several feet above the ground.

Kyle was glowing, as if he were a sun, and his hair had turned from a dingy, unwashed, shit-brown matte into a billowing plume of pure fire. His eyes could not be seen, but in their place shone two intense beams that shot straight into the heart of the beast. The incantation continued at an unworldly volume as Tommy gaped at the incredible battle unfolding before him.

The beast let out a howl, the wind from which blew Tommy into the farthest corner of the hangar. Even using all of his strength, he could not stand against the breath of the beast. The earth began to tremble, much more violently than before, and loud cracking noises cut through the shattering din. The wind was picking up, pressing Tommy into the wall, and with a loud groan and a sharp crack the roof of Santa’s hangar was ripped away.

There, in the crystal blue skies of the Arctic, Tommy saw the beast. His wings were fully spread and his limbs were thrashing about in midair. Streaks of lightning swarmed around him and thunder rolled from him. The bolts of lightning shot from the demon, down under the sea. The beast cried and screamed and thrashed with passion as he slowly descended into the ocean. Kyle’s voice still boomed, along with the beasts’ howling and the fiery explosions.

As The Arctic Volcano Beast sunk beneath the surface of the sea, his cries were muted. His horns then vanished beneath the tranquil ocean and silence began to overrun the land. Tommy lifted his head and saw Kyle lying in a broken heap on the floor. He rushed to his side, along with Santa and The Yeti.

“We shouldn’t move him; he may be seriously injured,” said The Yeti.

“Agreed. Leonard; Walter: get The Nurse down here and tell her to bring a flask of her special tonic,” Santa said.

The Nurse arrived within moments and poured a golden-brown, steaming cocktail down Kyle’s throat. What seemed like hours passed before Kyle coughed and sputtered his way back to consciousness. As soon as his eyes opened, a glorious cheer erupted from the elves. They hoisted him upon their short shoulders and began to parade him around the hangar.

“For gods’ sake, don’t move him,” the Yeti bellowed, but that plea fell on deaf ears. Kyle, still out of sorts from his experience, was barely aware of the goings on. As realization came to him, his eyes widened and his grin grew. When he realized what he had done, he threw his arms up in the air and another great cheer erupted from the elves. The celebration went on, late into the evening, before everyone settled down in the large dining hall.

They sipped and supped, laughed and cheered. Tommy stuffed himself silly on roast turkey and Christmas ham. After the meal, Tommy gathered his new friends together. He told them he was forever grateful for their mercy, and forever indebted for their generosity. They had taught Tommy that no matter how bad he thought his life was, it would be much worse without his family; even his sister. Without family and friendship, The Bad-Ass Volcano Monster would be free to feast on the flesh of children the world over. Santa, The Yeti, and Kyle had come together to defeat the oldest evil in the world and they had succeeded. Tommy promised to never sneak into Santa’s sleigh again, and Santa only laughed his unique laugh and placed a finger on the bridge of his nose:

“Tommy, my boy, the time will come again one day when the world as you know it will be turned inside-out. I, too, will face these changes. Today, you’ll return home and you’ll carry out the rest of your years with your family. Not even I know what troubles may lie before you, but I know that with enough perseverance and passion, you can overcome anything this world throws at you. I am an old man; my years are numbered. You’re brave, my boy, and courageous. You’ll grow into a fine man someday, with a family of your own! Your heart shines bright with good intentions and wonder. These are admirable qualities, my boy. Share them with the world while you can. And, if you’re interested, someday I’ll need someone to take over this place…”