| s-1
| The Last Christmas of Mrs. Claus |
| s-2
| by Alex Wilson |
| s-3
| Betty was thirty-eight and still believed in Santa Claus. |
| s-4
| But sometimes he could be such an asshole. |
| s-5
| She leaned against the kitchen counter, picking dried glaze from the wrinkles in the back of her hand. |
| s-6
| From the wireless headset that dangled from her neck, her old marine buddies called to her with joyous profanity and the bass of digital gunfire. |
| s-7
| The Xbox was upstairs. |
| s-8
| Her buddies were in San Diego and Cleveland. |
| s-9
| Satellite coverage in Santa’s Village was just another Christmas miracle, like faster-than-light travel and stuffing oneself through gas fireplaces with neither explosions nor lawsuits nipping at your heels. |
| s-10
| It was six o’clock. |
| s-11
| Santa had said he needed to leave at eight. |
| s-12
| So Betty had made Christmas Eve dinner while listening to — instead of participating in — the big special ops campaign game online. |
| s-13
| She’d garlic-salted the yams to the tune of Gomez unloading his Glock into a drug dealer. |
| s-14
| She’d painted the ham with maple glaze while Williams punctuated Patty Smyth’s “Goodbye to You” with bursts from his assault rifle. |
| s-15
| “Her boys,” as she called them, didn’t take a lot of eggnog in their rum. |
| s-16
| Santa had spent his day opening envelopes from North American children and falling asleep watching the Pittsburgh-Cleveland game in the media room. |
| s-17
| Now he was in the kitchen, awake and on his way out the door, because suddenly spending fifteen minutes eating dinner with his wife had become too much of a burden on this most wonderful night of the year. |
| s-18
| His white V-neck undershirt was tucked into his pants in front, pulled taught over his belly. |
| s-19
| It stretched the neckhole halfway down to his happy trail. |
| s-20
| His hands were finding their way through the armholes of his robe. |
| s-21
| “It’s just that there are more children in the world now,” he said. |
| s-22
| “And Santa’s not getting any younger, ho ho ho.” |
| s-23
| “Don’t get much older either,” Betty said. |
| s-24
| Santa’s first wife had died centuries ago, but he always just dismissed the question of his own mortality. |
| s-25
| Betty never knew how naughty she should feel about wanting to strangle him sometimes. |
| s-26
| “You’re seriously going to let me eat alone again on Christmas Eve?” |
| s-27
| “Don’t think of it like that, doll,” Santa said. |
| s-28
| “Think of the children.” |
| s-29
| He slung his belt around his back, and gave it a quick tug. |
| s-30
| His waist shrunk from dangerously obese to barely jolly. |
| s-31
| A few crumpled bills in American currency fell out of his pocket. |
| s-32
| Santa bent down to pick them up, mumbling about “emergency money.” |
| s-33
| “Can’t you get dressed in the bedroom like a normal person?” Betty asked. |
| s-34
| Distorted shouting erupted from Betty’s headset. |
| s-35
| She imagined red and yellow mosaic bursts lighting up the sunless snowscape outside, as if there was an HDTV behind the blinds instead of their kitchen window. |
| s-36
| One of her boys probably stepped on a landmine. |
| s-37
| Williams, she guessed. |
| s-38
| She thought she could hear Gomez laughing. |
| s-39
| She picked up the pans in which she’d made the potatoes and maple glaze. |
| s-40
| She put them in the sink to soak. |
| s-41
| The gingerbread batter bowl could wait a day, even though it would take longer to clean tomorrow. |
| s-42
| For now, she appreciated its fight to cover the ham-stink that coated the room. |
| s-43
| The jingle bell chimed on Santa’s cell. |
| s-44
| “Nutcrackers,” he said. |
| s-45
| “Santa can’t reach it, and it’s probably Ginny. |
| s-46
| Would you be a doll?” |
| s-47
| “Your secretary’s calling, and you need me to answer it? |
| s-48
| How efficient.” |
| s-49
| Betty wiped her fingers on a hand-towel. |
| s-50
| She lifted her headset’s microphone to her mouth. |
| s-51
| “Moroz out. |
| s-52
| Back in five.” |
| s-53
| “Copy that,” Gomez said on the other end. |
| s-54
| “It’ll take that long to put Humpty back together again anyway.” |
| s-55
| Betty switched off her headset mic. |
| s-56
| She unclipped the cell phone from the back of Santa’s girdle, and pushed the button with the green arrow, serrated to look like a double-edged diving knife. |
| s-57
| Or a Christmas tree, if that was more your thing. |
| s-58
| “Hey Ginny,” Betty said into the phone. |
| s-59
| “Oh hello, Mrs. Claus,” Ginny said. |
| s-60
| “Merry Christmas.” |
| s-61
| “For heaven’s sake, call me Betty.” |
| s-62
| “Sorry, Mrs. Claus. |
| s-63
| Has Mr. Claus left yet?” |
| s-64
| “On his way,” Betty said. |
| s-65
| “He was just thinking of the children. |
| s-66
| One at a time. |
| s-67
| He’s very thorough.” |
| s-68
| “How wonderful!” |