Page 1 of I Saw Krampus Kissing Ms Claus

ChapterOne

BEING MS. CLAUS KINDA SUCKS.

Everything in the Christmas season is about Santa. People hardly give Ms. Claus any credit for anything. Even though I’m the one calling the shots and making sure everything goes smoothly on the most important day of the year.

Being Ms. Claus sucks even more when everyone thinks you are married to your brother.

I understand the confusion, but we share a last name because we share parents. Not because we share a bed.

Blech. Don’t make me toss my Christmas cookies.

“The numbers don’t add up, Kris.” I slide the binder across the desk, indicating a neat column in my spreadsheet.

“Hmm? The numbers always add up.” My brother scratches at his round belly. “Don’t they?”

“Well, yes, of course they have.” I say. “But this year, we are short. We’re lower on Christmas Cheer than we should be.”

“We’ve never been low on Cheer before.” Santa says.

“I know.” I sigh. “I’m telling you that something is wrong. Our supply is low. We don’t have enough to complete your entire sleigh ride.”

Kris picks up a sugar cookie from the plate beside him and presses the whole thing slowly into his mouth. As he chews, crumbs tumble into his long white beard and he brushes them away. “I’m sure it will all sort itself out, right Nikki?”

My brother smiles at me, showing off that wholesome grin, the pale skin that matches mine, the pink apple cheeks that we share. We have a lot in common. White hair that matches the snow, plump bodies that work well in the cold, a rosy complexion that compliments the color red. But he’s always been an optimist. I am more of a realist.

But he’s always had the option to be an optimist. Being Santa comes with very different responsibilities than being Ms. Claus. Everything works out perfectly for him, because I make sure that it does. Every Christmas, I am the one who makes sure that all the numbers line up.

“We’ll have to make some cuts on the trip this year.” I say, pulling out my second binder of information.

“Oh, ho, ho, that won’t do!” Santa chortles. “Everyone deserves presents on Christmas!”

“Kris. You don’t have enough fuel.”

“I have to!” He protests. “How could I possibly decide who to leave off the Christmas nice list?”

“That’s why I’m here. To decide where we should make cuts.”

“No cuts.” Santa says.

“We have to make cuts.”

“No cuts.” He repeats.

“If you look at this route I drew up. We could cut out just the top one percent of the wealthiest homes, then we can—”

“No cuts!” Santa insists, before his face lights up, “I know what we should do! Get some extra Cheer.”

“I’ve been trying to tell you.” I rest my exhausted head in my hands. “There is no extra Cheer!”

“But I know where we can get some!” He snaps his fingers above his head like he’s had a brilliant idea.

“Please don’t say Vikram.”

“What’s wrong with Vikram?”

“He may be your best friend, but he did nothing but torment me our entire childhood.”

Santa drums his fingers along his desktop. “Krampus is a great guy.”

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