Episode Notes
On Christmas Eve a brother and sister decide to invoke the urban legend of "Satan Claus" to get revenge on their rotten stepfather. Will the fabled bloodthirsty monster come to their aid or is the true horror what awaits them living in their own home?
Satan Claus by Keith Tomlin
Music by Ray Mattis
http://raymattispresents.bandcamp.com
Produced by Daniel Wilder
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Transcription:
December 25, 1998, 1:45 am.
Edward burst out of the backdoor of his house.  His foot missed the second step of the concrete stairs and he went sprawling, landing hard on the neglected wooden deck of his back patio.
Gasping for breath, he struggled to his feet, losing one of his slippers.  After a few tries, he regained his balance and raced off into the woods that edged his backyard.  Burrs and thorns tore at his skin and clothing as he plunged into the darkness.  
As Edward ran, he heard a loud crash as something large and powerful followed after him.  An unearthly roar, filled with hate and rage, rang through the night.  Edward pushed himself harder, charging faster into the forest.  
After a few minutes of running in a blind panic, Edward felt a sharp pain run from his chest and down his arm.  He gasped and dropped at the base of a large elm tree.  Sobbing, he worked himself into a sitting position, trying to breathe through the pain.  He wiped blood from his face, some his, some from his wife.  
Hearing a branch breaking, Edward tried to push himself up but the pain in his chest nearly caused him to blackout.  Fighting unconsciousness, he felt hot breath on his face as he fought to open his eyes.  When he did, Edward saw yellow, bloodshot eyes staring into his as the creature snorted, sending its moist, rancid breath into his face.  It let out a blood-curdling scream as it reached for him with long arms ending in razor-sharp claws.  
As the creature tore Edward apart, his last thought was not of the intense pain or the realization that his life was over, it was a question.  
‘Is that thing wearing a Santa hat?’ Edward thought as he passed into darkness. 
December 24, 1999, 11:15 am.
Emily looked incredulously at her 13-year-old brother, Tyler.  “Satan Claus?  Are you fuckin’ serious?” she said.
“Well, yeah… I mean… It’s real, well, not real but they think it’s real.” Tyler said, trying to gather his thoughts.
“So, we’re going to summon a pretend demon dressed like Santa Claus to take care of our stepfather?” Emily said with scorn.  
“Well, sorta.” Tyler sighed, taking a deep breath and slowly letting it out. “Ok, so… take the legend of Bloody Mary.  The story goes that if you look in the mirror and say her name three times, she will appear and start killing people.  Now, everyone knows that’s not real.  If you’re having a sleepover with friends and they dare you to look in the mirror and say her name, you will.  You know it’s not true and nothing will happen.  But,” he said excitedly, “If it’s night and you’re alone in the house and you’re standing in front of a mirror when the thought crosses your mind to say her name three times, will do you it?”  
Without waiting for an answer, Tyler went on, “No, you would not.  And why not?  The logical part of your mind will say, ‘surely, it’s not real, it’s just crazy talk’ but, on a primal level, you know that if you say her name three times, she may appear.  This belief is what gives these creatures their power.” Tyler paused, slightly out of breath.
“You are one weird kid,” Emily said.
“Yeah, well, you know… growing up in this house does tend to make one unusual,” Tyler replied, solemnly.
Emily shook her head, “Ok, I’m still confused, what creatures are you talking about?”
Tyler looked Emily in the eyes, something he rarely did with anyone, “To be honest, I don’t know.  I just know they exist.  Throughout history, different cultures had legends of horrific creatures that terrorized the common folk.  I think that these were all some kind of a supernatural force that draws power from the beliefs and fears of the people.  If enough people believe in them, then these ghosts, demons, or whatever, can draw strength and life from these beliefs and they will actually become these creatures.”
“Wow, I…  I think this is insane.” said Emily, speechless.  
“I know and I accept that but I need your help.  For you, this is a win-win.  If you help and it works, we will be rid of that asshole forever.”  Tyler looked at Emily, who nodded emphatically. “If it doesn’t work, then you have something else to make fun of me for, not that there is any lack of material for that.” Tyler said, pointing to the piles of role-playing manuals and superhero comic books stacked up around his bedroom. 
Not for the first time, Emily was amazed at how smart her brother was, naïve and childlike but also so goddamn smart.  She had sworn to herself to do whatever she had to do to make sure that he reaches adulthood without life crushing his soul.  She was only a year older than him but she was a survivor.  She could take all of the pain and suffering that life, and her stepfather, could dish out.  Tyler, however, was a fragile soul.  If this helped him deal with all the bullshit then she was willing to go along with it.
“Fuck it, I’m in,” she said, “consider it your Christmas present.” 
“Well, uh… really?” Tyler said, clearly expecting more resistance.  
Emily continued, “Look, this is the most batshit crazy thing I’ve ever heard but, you’re my brother, and I’ll do anything to support you.  So…. Satan Claus?”  
Tyler took a few seconds to blink some tears away.  “Ok, so…  Satan Claus is an urban legend that has been around for at least 15 years.  Basically, it’s a story of a department store Santa that was beaten to death by a gang of kids and his wife got her revenge by baking cookies with her blood.  She tricked the kids into eating them, which caused her husband to come back from the dead and kill everyone.” Tyler finally paused to take a breath.  “At least nine times in the last seven years, there have been a series of gruesome deaths on Christmas eve so brutal that the police have suspected it was either the work of a satanic cult or some kind of huge, unidentified wild creature.  I disagree, I think it was the legend of Satan Claus that killed them and that’s what I want for dear old Frank.” Tyler said, referring to their stepfather.  
“He deserves to die,” Emily said in a cold, hard voice, “For what he has done to mom, you, and what he has tried to do to….”  Emily trailed off.
Tyler awkwardly reached out and patted her hand.  “I know, he will pay for all of it.”  
“So, all we need to do is get Frank to eat some cookies?” Emily asked.
Tyler nodded.
“What do you need from me?” Emily finally asked.
December 25, 1999, 12:36 am 
Emily rubbed the Band-Aid covering her finger, thinking that only her brother could talk her into using her blood as an ingredient in a cookie recipe.  If she had to be honest, she enjoyed cutting her finger more than baking the cookies.  The first batch ended up a burned, smoking mess and she had to mix up, and recut, a second batch.  She shook her head, thinking about the things that people do for family.  
Emily looked down at her brother, asleep on the couch next to her, and sighed.  She loved that crazy little bastard.  She turned back towards the large picture window to keep up her vigil on the dark street outside.
After a minute or so, the lights from an approaching car lit up the neighboring houses.  Emily leaned further over the back of the couch, face pressed against the window, to get a better look.  When a familiar car pulled into the driveway of the house across the street, Emily grabbed her brother and shook him awake.
“Tyler!  Frank just pulled in our driveway.” Emily whispered loudly.
Tyler sat up, rubbing his eyes.  Looking around, he asked, “Where is Mrs. Patterson?”
“Mrs. Patterson is in bed, it’s past midnight.” Emily said.  Mrs. Patterson was an elderly woman who lived across the street from them and, understanding their volatile family situation, often let the kids spend the night at her house while their mom was working the graveyard shift at the nursing home. 
“Grab the binoculars and keep your voice down.” Emily commanded. 
Tyler’s eyes popped open as he suddenly remembered what they had planned for Frank.  He grabbed his cheap pair of binoculars from the coffee table and joined his sister, leaning over the back of the couch.
Frank pulled into the snow-covered driveway, his ragged old Ford sliding to a stop, almost hitting the garage door.  He opened the car door and stumbled out.  
Frank was a tall, lean man, what some may call wiry.  He had a face that used to be quite handsome and may still be to some, hidden under the years of hard living and even harder drinking.  Frank lived to drink and spent most evenings complaining about his miserable life to the regulars at Whitey’s Tavern, a dive bar a few blocks from his house.  He would usually come home shitfaced; tonight, however, he was well beyond that.  One of the bar patrons, a well-to-do businessman that liked to flaunt his success, kept buying drinks for the house.  Frank kept drinking and he kept getting angrier.  
Frank’s past kept rolling around in his head.  Why has his life turned out like shit?  Why is everyone against him?  Why did that bitch of an ex-wife keep hounding him for money to buy gifts for a bunch of ungrateful little shits?  Why did his current wife keep picking up extra shifts when she should be home taking care of him?  Why do her fucking brats show him no respect, in his own goddamn house!? 
Frank shut the car door and made his way up the icy walkway to the front of the house.  Swaying, he opened up the fr