Here's a story I heard from a friend who had studied at an orphanage school. He told me the story after we chanced upon a man being thrashed after his unsuccessful attempt to flee a cheap restaurant without footing the bill on Christmas eve. My friend called the story ‘The midget thief’.
“DENIAL IS NOT JUST A RIVER IN EGYPT,” Ryan screamed at the thief they had caught in the doorway leading to the study hall. He was a plump man, about 45-years-old and barely three-and-a-half feet tall. Through his clattering teeth, the thief muttered, “I was only following orders. The storekeeper wanted me to drop some stockings in the study room for the younger kids,” he told Ryan, the monitor of the dormitory and the senior most among the senior boys. He was so senior that sometimes Brother Joseph would share a glass of wine with him. After they were a little loosened up, dramatic Ryan would switch into an extra friendly mood and call Brother Joseph Narmu, what his mother called him.
Ryan was in no mood to listen. “At this unearthly hour, when the winds are a-blowing, you dare to give us such rotten crap,” he told the midget thief. But the midget whined back weakly and said Jesus would punish Ryan for not allowing him to do Santa Claus’ job. Ryan became serious and looked as if he had suddenly started believing the midget thief.
“So, Santa is not coming to the dorm this year,” Ryan asked the midget.
“No he isn’t. He can’t. I don’t know why,” the midget replied, feeling a bit hopeful that he was being understood.
“And Santa did he get my request for a camera?” Ryan asked the Midget.
“Emm… Santa’s not giving expensive gifts this year,” the midget replied.
“Is it because we are a third world country,” Ryan asked the midget.
“I don’t know. That may be the case,” the midget said a little suspiciously, wondering which way Ryan was going.
“GOTCHA! LIAR. I WAS ONLY FIBBING WITH YOU. TERRIBLE LIAR, WE’RE NO BUYERS,” Ryan screamed and danced around the midget thief like he had loosened up already. The dancing roused up the other senior boys in the dorm who had relaxed and were cracking their knuckles, after they realised Ryan, thankfully, didn’t believe in Santa.
That’s when the beating started. The senior boys went about the process clinically. Some had worn their boots for the purpose. They surrounded the midget thief.
After about fifteen minutes of pushing, punching and kicking, some second and third standard boys half-sleeping in the nearby dorm made for the corridor hearing the commotion. They were the littlest ones and most of them had not slept hoping to get a glimpse of Santa. “Is that Santa,” a little fellow in a yellow sweater asked the sweaty, surprised seniors. The question drew a barrage of laughter from Ryan. “Yeah, little kiddies Santa is here and his reindeers are parked outside,” he told the kids. The kids suddenly brightened up and started screaming, “WE WANT TO SEE SANTA, WE WANT TO SEE HIM.”
For a moment, Ryan and the other seniors felt a pang of guilt. They had no choice but to move away. But before they displayed ‘Santa’, one of the senior boys pulled a cheap Santa cap that was hanging on the door over the midget’s head.
“That’s really Santa. It is him,” the kids cooed when they saw the sad midget with a Santa cap. Blood from his forehead had turned his jacket red. When the midget saw the kids, he could not help but smile at them. One of the seniors wiped the midget’s face and told the kids, “He fell off the sledge and hurt his head.” The kids immediately ran to the first aid box and helped Santa’s forehead to some iodine.
By then Brother Joseph had appeared in the dorm. He had come to slip in the gift stockings at the junior class dorm. Ryan explained what had happened while the kids dressed the midget.
And Brother Joseph rescued the situation. He called the midget to his room next to the senior dorm and told him to distribute the gifts to the little fellows “to make the poor devils happy”.
The kids had their first interaction with Santa that night.
That was a great Christmas, my friend told me. “They really thought the midget thief was Santa. They were happy like kids can be,” he said.
After the kids left, nobody was in the mood to beat Santa anymore. Brother Joseph told the midget to leave, as the boys dispersed. Still wearing the Santa cap, the midget left in a bicycle. From a distance, he did look like Santa Claus.
“DENIAL IS NOT JUST A RIVER IN EGYPT,” Ryan screamed at the thief they had caught in the doorway leading to the study hall. He was a plump man, about 45-years-old and barely three-and-a-half feet tall. Through his clattering teeth, the thief muttered, “I was only following orders. The storekeeper wanted me to drop some stockings in the study room for the younger kids,” he told Ryan, the monitor of the dormitory and the senior most among the senior boys. He was so senior that sometimes Brother Joseph would share a glass of wine with him. After they were a little loosened up, dramatic Ryan would switch into an extra friendly mood and call Brother Joseph Narmu, what his mother called him.
Ryan was in no mood to listen. “At this unearthly hour, when the winds are a-blowing, you dare to give us such rotten crap,” he told the midget thief. But the midget whined back weakly and said Jesus would punish Ryan for not allowing him to do Santa Claus’ job. Ryan became serious and looked as if he had suddenly started believing the midget thief.
“So, Santa is not coming to the dorm this year,” Ryan asked the midget.
“No he isn’t. He can’t. I don’t know why,” the midget replied, feeling a bit hopeful that he was being understood.
“And Santa did he get my request for a camera?” Ryan asked the Midget.
“Emm… Santa’s not giving expensive gifts this year,” the midget replied.
“Is it because we are a third world country,” Ryan asked the midget.
“I don’t know. That may be the case,” the midget said a little suspiciously, wondering which way Ryan was going.
“GOTCHA! LIAR. I WAS ONLY FIBBING WITH YOU. TERRIBLE LIAR, WE’RE NO BUYERS,” Ryan screamed and danced around the midget thief like he had loosened up already. The dancing roused up the other senior boys in the dorm who had relaxed and were cracking their knuckles, after they realised Ryan, thankfully, didn’t believe in Santa.
That’s when the beating started. The senior boys went about the process clinically. Some had worn their boots for the purpose. They surrounded the midget thief.
After about fifteen minutes of pushing, punching and kicking, some second and third standard boys half-sleeping in the nearby dorm made for the corridor hearing the commotion. They were the littlest ones and most of them had not slept hoping to get a glimpse of Santa. “Is that Santa,” a little fellow in a yellow sweater asked the sweaty, surprised seniors. The question drew a barrage of laughter from Ryan. “Yeah, little kiddies Santa is here and his reindeers are parked outside,” he told the kids. The kids suddenly brightened up and started screaming, “WE WANT TO SEE SANTA, WE WANT TO SEE HIM.”
For a moment, Ryan and the other seniors felt a pang of guilt. They had no choice but to move away. But before they displayed ‘Santa’, one of the senior boys pulled a cheap Santa cap that was hanging on the door over the midget’s head.
“That’s really Santa. It is him,” the kids cooed when they saw the sad midget with a Santa cap. Blood from his forehead had turned his jacket red. When the midget saw the kids, he could not help but smile at them. One of the seniors wiped the midget’s face and told the kids, “He fell off the sledge and hurt his head.” The kids immediately ran to the first aid box and helped Santa’s forehead to some iodine.
By then Brother Joseph had appeared in the dorm. He had come to slip in the gift stockings at the junior class dorm. Ryan explained what had happened while the kids dressed the midget.
And Brother Joseph rescued the situation. He called the midget to his room next to the senior dorm and told him to distribute the gifts to the little fellows “to make the poor devils happy”.
The kids had their first interaction with Santa that night.
That was a great Christmas, my friend told me. “They really thought the midget thief was Santa. They were happy like kids can be,” he said.
After the kids left, nobody was in the mood to beat Santa anymore. Brother Joseph told the midget to leave, as the boys dispersed. Still wearing the Santa cap, the midget left in a bicycle. From a distance, he did look like Santa Claus.
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