My Cardboard Balcony

Santa Was Hungry by Belinda Roddie Santa was hungry; therefore, he would feast upon more than the milk and the cookies that were left out for him. The angry beast within his belly would not be appeased until he sated its large appetite. So Santa raided cupboards and pantries, gorging himself on breads and other bites, scarfing down candy, fruit and ham and cheese, He scoured the cellars for bottles of wine, the contents of which he splashed on his beard, getting both drunk and sloppy as he dined on each household's supplies. "How very weird!" the people would all gasp on Christmas Day, while Santa belched and giggled on his sleigh.

I didn't want to tell her the news. Not yet, anyway. Not while we were sitting together on her father's beaten-down, once-black-now-gray couch, her head nestled against my collar, eyes glued to the TV. I didn't want to spoil the atmosphere, or kill her mood. Not yet. Not now. My parents had told me that we would be moving next month. Work-related reasons, they said. Now all I could do was cuddle with my girlfriend and keep the sadness swelling in my gut like rising bread.