We don’t talk to Scoobi about Santa Claus. Not since the heart attack. Something about having sat on Santa’s lap moments before his vital organs began to expand and contract in violent spasms causing him to collapse in a sweaty heap on the cottony fake snow surrounding his chair that makes the whole Christmas season eternally unsettling to a child.

About Nikki

I've been writing since I was in kindergarten where I Crayola-markered an epic tale of a tiger and a balloon on a stack of lined papers folded into a booklet and stapled along the edge (carefully, and by my teacher). I love DIY, sewing, folksy music, animals and getting out to look at and listen to nature.
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