Nothing and Some More

Chatting online is brainwashing, hence quite addictive after a hard day of work: just like tv, except I improve my typing speed and my anatomic slang. I particularly enjoy tit-ting-tattling with Camgirls, because they've heard everything and more, and they know that -ultimately- all I want is some flesh (no blood, thanks). Christmas is, like any other global fiesta, an easy conversation starter (so much better than my usual routine). So I was bargaining with that smart ass about how many digital pictures I could have of her if I bought some stuffs on her wishlist. My nick was obviously Undercover Santa.

Then the rain started to fall. Then there was a lightning and a few second later the thunder echoed... What amazed me though was a popup from DHCPd informed me that somewhat was requesting an IP address on my freenet. THAT was weird: who, in his right mind, would be stupid enough to be outside now, using a laptop to connect to the internet.

A barytone "Hello" clued me into the answer: an old fat guy, quite wet and leaking all over the room, seated on my bed, ruining the brand new plaid that mom lovingly made for my birthday, who said:
- Don't worry, I clean the mess later. Thanks for the Freenet. By the way, you should told your correspondent that her teddy bear is behind the third drawer, her little brother taped it there.
- Quite cryptic, don't you think ?
- TYPE IT.
Natural authority is a quality I don't have.
I got one smiley, a 'hold on, I'm coming... back' and then, after a long minute, the expected 'how did you know that ????'. And me to answer 'Didn't I told you I was Santa Claus ?'

And the lighting was there again, and the guy on my bed started to roll on the floor laughing, litterally.

- So, how come you're around, it's not even Christmas yet.
- Reconnaissance.

And he showed me what he was typing on his iBook, creating a hell of a road-book.
- Calling it a chimneybook would be more exact though. Do you mind me being really me with your friend for a sec ?

What to say ? So he starting typing, me peeping over his shoulders. She was quite excited, as much as I could judge by her cam. First, she proposed to bare it all, in order to get the full wishlist.

Santa smiled and wrote something I couldn't read, but she blushed, really, and turned the webcam away.

I have a log, I will read it later.

- Don't even think about it, the old guy muttered, what I write here is private. Anyways I'm not real. And as an emblem, I have no physical presence: that is why your plaid is still okay. And this is why there won't be anything in your log.

Then, there was a blue screen. She lost the connection. Funnily enough, the last sentence she was able to read from the so-called Santa was Think Different.

Which Santa was laughing, like a childish devil.
- You DoSsed her ?
- Yep. Being under NDA, I couldn't really let her know that some tricks of my trade were under heavy copyright.
- Like your suit belongs to Coca-Cola ?
- Nah. This is an urban legend: all my suits belong to me. I was red longtime before some smart MBA dude decided to draw me to promote some beverage. Could have been worse, I could be selling Pepsi instead. Or even milk.
She was starting to get into religion and why the world was so bad these days. So I tried to deviate the conversation and she went on asking about stuff I can't really tell to everyone.
- So what is so secret ? Tell me : no one is reading this anyway! And I can handle it, I don't believe in Santa anymore.
- You should. Anyways, it's not really a secret, more like unpleasant views. Like the fact that I'm using underpaid dwarfs in shitty places of the world to manufacture cheaper presents so your kids can have more dull plastic toys like Happy Rotter or anorexic Blondie. And also the fact that I'm a global icon used everywhere in the world to give you one occasion to be together, one family , and for one night have a slice of magic back into your life that has been perveted into a massive buy everything tendency.
- Is this such a bad thing ? I'd rather have my kids be happy having some presents than believe into YOU.
- You're right, they don't believe in me anymore. They just know they will get lots of new toys they are expecting. Believing in magic would mean that an element of suprise in their presents, a risk to be disapointed or the orgasmic chance to get the one present they were secretly wishing to have but afraid to ask.
- Like the boy who wants a doll or the girl really into computer ?
- Not everyone wants to do his coming-out during xmas, but, yes, you got the idea. Suprise helps not to forget that life can be bad at time, but also quite good and sometimes wonderful. A bonus moral lesson for christmas. Worth the effort, in my opinion.
- Blablabla... So tell me, what will I get then ?
- You're a grown-up now, arent't you. Out of my database, and you should be on the other side, you are supposed to help me populate that database, remember ?
- Yeah, yeah, whatever. And now what ?

Thunder of course. And lightnings.

And he was no more.

So online world, here I was ! I checked the log, just in case. Guess what? My complete NkdCmGrl directory was wiped out. Instead I had ONE single picture:
An old bearded NAKED guy with a sign saying Happy New Year and a huge smile. And the legend was Look what Coke can do to you.

P.S.: Mum, the plaid is ok.

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In case you are interested by how this story came to be, you can read Work in progress. And a previous christmas story