Percy wanted a new pencil box. He was famous in his school for losing pens. So to save his pens, he decided to ask Santa for a new one.
During dinner he asked his mom. “Mom?”
“Yes honey?” Sally asked her son.
“Is Santa real?” Percy asked, munching on blue cookies.
Gabriel Ugliano—or Smelly Gabe—looked up from his food. “And what would you do about it?”
“None of your business,” the nine-year-old snapped.
Gabe stood up. “Teach him manners Sally. I do not tolerate impertinence in my house.”
Percy shot a glare in Gabe’s direction.
After Gabe went to his room, Percy asked again, “Is Santa real Mom?”
Sally ruffled his hair. “Of course he is Percy.”
After completing their dinner, when they reached Percy’s room, Percy asked, “Why does he stay at home? Why didn’t the company fire him? And why—”
“That’s a lot of questions on a Christmas night Perseus,” Sally said, ruffling his hair. “I’ll answer them tomorrow.”
Percy hugged her. “Okay. Goodnight Mom.”
Sally hugged him back. She wondered how much Percy resembled his father. He had his eyes and his hair. Her eyes misted a little.
Percy kept tossing and turning in his bed. He couldn’t sleep. He finally got up and looked at his clock. 1:15 AM. He sighed.
If I stay awake, then Santa wouldn’t come.
Suddenly, he heard a noise from his window. He got up from his bed and went to the window. Nothing.
I must be dreaming.
He started making his way back to bed when he heard footsteps. He slowly turned around, ready to cry for help if there was a burglar.
Instead he saw someone who he’d often seen in pictures. Red coat, big white beard, red cap and a bag of goodies over his shoulders meant only one answer.
“Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas Percy!” Santa greeted.
Percy ran to him and gave him a bear hug. “Merry Christmas Santa!”
After they hugged, Percy asked, “Where do you live?”
“In Olympus,” Santa said.
“Ol–” Percy tried to pronounce.
“No!” Santa said, quickly. “I came from...North Pole.”
“Where are your reindeers?” Percy asked, excited.
“Reindeers?” Santa repeated, unsure. “They are—they are outside.”
“Can I see them?”
“It’s bitterly cold outside, my child,” Santa said.
“Aw...” Percy slumped his shoulders.
“But,” Santa continued, “I’ve got your present!”
“Yipee!” Percy jumped.
Santa put down his bag and rummaged through the gifts. “Now, where was it?” he muttered to himself. “Good,” he said, when he’d found Percy’s present.
“This one’s for you,” he said, giving Percy a blue gift wrapped box.
Percy opened it and gasped. It was a blue pencil box and was decorated with seashells. The box seemed like it was made of water.
“This is awesome Santa,” he said. “Thank—”
But Santa was gone.
Zeus, the king of the gods, was sitting in the throne room in Olympus watching Hephaestus TV. Hera had, once again, started nagging him for no reason. Maybe she had a reason. Maybe he didn’t listen.
Somebody opened the window and tried to climb through it. He heard a lot of huff and puff before he spoke.
“Brother,” Zeus said. “You should take off that disguise. You look ridiculous.”
“Thanks for the compliment,” Santa said, and started to glow.
His white beard disappeared. His face turned from an old man’s to a middle aged guy’s. His red coat transformed into Greek robes.
Poseidon stood in front of Zeus. Then, as if remembering something, he went over to the balcony and spread his arms. “I, POSEIDON, LORD OF THE SEAS, HAS DONE ANOTHER GOOD DEED!”
“Drama Queen,” Zeus muttered, as he changed the channel.
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