Candy, Coals, and Oranges

When I was a little kid - well, up until I was around 22 - I was terrified of St. Nicholas. You see, where I come from, he's supposed to sneak around town the night from Dec. 5th to 6th and put either coal or chocolate, oranges, and candy - depending on the children's individual adjustment to general disciplinary standards - in the shoes of the kids. Well, my parents decided to give their children at least one huge trauma by getting Mr. Nicholas to actually visit us. Yes, that means he appeared in person. And whoever they put into that costume each single year, they were all sadists. Starting December 1st, I thought of ways to escape the old guy's visit. He would make us recite poems and he gave us candy and little gifts, and between those two things, he was just plain mean. He yelled and yelled and knew every little stupid thing we had done throughout the whole year.

One year, my sister and I hid under a bed. They found us. I'm sure it endlessly amused everyone involved but us. The worst is: I think it's funny now that I think about it, but then, it was just like those poor kids running from Freddy Krueger. If I remember correctly, St. Nicholaus also used to have those knives as fingers .... Or maybe the warm light of the Christmas lights just made it seem that way, I don't know.

I never got coals. But damn did I get closer to therapy every year. The guy got me to brush my teeth regularly, though. Try that, Easterbunny!