The Santa Express

"You're kidding," said Angelo.

"No, I'm not kidding," said Santa Claus.

Angelo tried to say that some people think of their pets as children, but Santa would not hear of such absurdity. "That's their problem," he said.

He hugged black Labs that night and German shepherds, and even a fat beagle attired in wings and a halo. He smiled with them all, and long after Angelo had given up on him, he had opened his abundant lap to a little girl, her mom, her dad and the family hound. As one of the elves reached over to adjust the girl's dress, the dog sank its teeth into the elf's arm. Santa Bell recalled a younger day when he had broken the neck of a biting dog. He quickly located the trachea of this one. When the dog released the elf, Santa threw down the dog. He placed his scroll of good boys and girls under his arm, and he went home.

He quit just before the Christmas rush, when Sepia would realize 75 percent of its profits. The company was not badly wounded. By the next morning the throne was occupied by another man who looked very much like John Bell.

As for Bell himself, he reckoned that quitting would probably make it hard to find employment next year. He said this with a HO-HO-HO! and didn't seem very worried about it.

He was last seen driving his pickup down the highway, with his very own throne in the back. It was the night of the Christmas party of the Galveston County Foster Children Association, for which he had built this throne and during which he would be able to say whatever he pleased.

At a stoplight, a man in the next lane rolled down the window.

"You look like the real Santa. Do you ever go into the stores and take pictures with kids?"

"Not anymore," said Santa Bell. "I tried that. Not anymore."

E-mail Randall Patterson at randall.patterson@ houstonpress.com.