“He's a vigilante. He decides who's good and who's bad and he does something about it on his own terms. Goody-goody kids get toys. Brats get squat—or lumps of coal, though I think that got dropped in, like, the 1950s.When I was a little girl, I'd start worrying about whether I'd been good enough that year sometime around Thanksgiving, and for the next month I was a little angel. It was scary to think I might not get any toys . . . but it was sort of reassuring, too. If Santa was really out there... rewarding the nice and punishing the naughty, it meant things were fair. There was some kind of justice in the universe. Well, that didn't last long. I mean, you try to get through elementary school believing life's fair. It can't be done. I stayed nice, though. Maybe it was just a habit by then. I finally broke the habit this December. Life just pushed me too far, and I decided I was done with nice. Nice sucked. Santa wasn't watching, so what was the point? It was time to give naughty a try.I graduated from IU in the spring, so this was supposed to be my first Christmas as a bona fide, official, independent adult.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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