Ryan Sawyer here with the great, uh, Santa Claus. Santa, tell the listeners a little about yourself. As if we didn't know..!
Well, Ryan, there is a misconception about who I am and what I do. That jolly fat man in red is a fake! He's just a mishmash of Germanic folklore, Catholic tradition, and 19th century literature. The 'nice' version you could say. But not real.
Oh okay. Well you certainly look the part. Red clothes, white beard, black belt.
But no toys! My sack holds other thing, like this!
Whoa! An axe! What the hell do you use that for?
For this-
Yah! What is that? Put it back!
It's the head of a snow troll. What, did you think I had Yatzhee in here? I told you, that's fake. This is what Santa Claws does. That's 'Claws', like sharp, not 'Claus' like Klaus.
Oh hell. This is too much.
Coming from the guy who interviewed Creeping Death.
He didn't have a head in his bag.
Grow up, boy. Do you want to know more, or is this interview over?
No, no, carry on. So your name is Santa Claws. Is it your, uh, birth name?
What do you think? It was a name given to me long ago. Right around the time Saint Nicholas dropped the money into those girls' stockings. See, on the other side of town, a young boy had been losing his pets to a loathsome creature that dwelled in the alleys. It was like a mad cat with spines, and red blazing eyes.
Say what?
Pay attention, boy. I was living nearby as a vagrant, and saw this thing kill and eat cats, dogs, birds, rats, etc. One day I heard the boy crying and asked him what was wrong. He was frightened of my appearance at first, but then told me about his missing animals.
I told him I would take care of it.
What did you do?
I waited. That night the beast appeared again, running down a stray mutt. Before it could sink it's fangs into it, I struck. I grabbed it, threw it down, and hacked off its head with my hatchet.
Then, later, I dropped the head through the boy's window. Apparently it landed in his stocking that had been left out to dry.
Gross! That poor kid. What happened?
He showed his father and the neighbors ran me out of town.
Really? Not even a thank you?
No. I suppose they didn't want a be-header of strange beasts living among them.
I set out immediately. I wandered in the vast forests of Germany and Switzerland, hunting and surviving. Meanwhile, Nicholas' fame grew. All he did was pay a dowry for a few girls! Bah!
That was a good thing, you know.
And now look at him! His deed became legend, and the legend became a fairy tale! My deeds became lost. My colors were snatched and applied to a fat man who delivers toys through a chimney. He is the candy-coated version of me! Santa Claws!
Wow. I see why you're miffed. But it is hard to celebrate the deeds of a monster-killer.
It shouldn't be, but I understand your point. How would anyone market this?
Another head?! What is that? Danny Glover?
It's a midnight elf. See the ears? And the mouth?
He's got needle-teeth!
That's right. You know why you've never seen them before? Because I kill them before they get to you. I kill everything in the frozen North. Everything evil.
Amazing. Wait. How old are you?
Hm, about 1700 years old.
How is that possible?
I drank from a magic river that gave me a long life and great health. And power.
No way.
Yes. Have you ever seen a wendigo? Of course not. I would have brought its head too, but it wouldn't fit in this room.
Is it white, like in the comics?
Sometimes they are white, sometimes black. But I have to use this to take them apart.
That's humongous!
Don't mind the stains.
This is unbelievable. So you prowl around the North Pole, looking for monsters to kill?
That's what I've been saying. After a few years of wandering, a shining man led me to a stream I hadn't seen before. He told me to drink, so I did. Suddenly I felt stronger, bigger, mighty. And I found I could see in the dark, and see through the veil that covers these monsters. They couldn't hide any longer!
You're like Santa the Barbarian. With a shirt on.
A little tip: If you ever go to Nova Scotia, bring a lantern. White Wights hate lanterns.
Uh, all right. Where do you live now?
That is a secret.
Do you have elves working for you?
No. A couple of gremlins, but no elves. They don't work for anyone.
I'm thinking you need a new name. "Santa Claws" sound like a wrestler.
That boy called me Santa Claws, so I still use it. His father was a fool, but he knew what was right. I heard that their town was almost overtaken by wolf-weres six years later. I was far from there at the time. If they hadn't forced me out-
-you wouldn't be what you are today.
Yes, I wouldn't have drank from the river and extended my life by centuries and become a monster-slayer. I'm thinking a nice, plump wife and tiny elves making toys in a workshop would have been a better idea, don't you?
I guess. Don't you have any friends?
Just the gremlins. But they vomit mouse bones all over the place.
All right then... What are your plans for the evening? Beheading of trolls, beer at a tavern, a nice movie..?
I'm going to grab an egg nog milkshake and head North.
On your sleigh? Ha ha, sorry...
On my feet. The most reliable way to go.
Thank you, Santa, for an excellent interview. Come back next year.
I will. With a wendigo head!
Well, Ryan, there is a misconception about who I am and what I do. That jolly fat man in red is a fake! He's just a mishmash of Germanic folklore, Catholic tradition, and 19th century literature. The 'nice' version you could say. But not real.
Oh okay. Well you certainly look the part. Red clothes, white beard, black belt.
But no toys! My sack holds other thing, like this!
Whoa! An axe! What the hell do you use that for?
For this-
Yah! What is that? Put it back!
It's the head of a snow troll. What, did you think I had Yatzhee in here? I told you, that's fake. This is what Santa Claws does. That's 'Claws', like sharp, not 'Claus' like Klaus.
Oh hell. This is too much.
Coming from the guy who interviewed Creeping Death.
He didn't have a head in his bag.
Grow up, boy. Do you want to know more, or is this interview over?
No, no, carry on. So your name is Santa Claws. Is it your, uh, birth name?
What do you think? It was a name given to me long ago. Right around the time Saint Nicholas dropped the money into those girls' stockings. See, on the other side of town, a young boy had been losing his pets to a loathsome creature that dwelled in the alleys. It was like a mad cat with spines, and red blazing eyes.
Say what?
Pay attention, boy. I was living nearby as a vagrant, and saw this thing kill and eat cats, dogs, birds, rats, etc. One day I heard the boy crying and asked him what was wrong. He was frightened of my appearance at first, but then told me about his missing animals.
I told him I would take care of it.
What did you do?
I waited. That night the beast appeared again, running down a stray mutt. Before it could sink it's fangs into it, I struck. I grabbed it, threw it down, and hacked off its head with my hatchet.
Then, later, I dropped the head through the boy's window. Apparently it landed in his stocking that had been left out to dry.
Gross! That poor kid. What happened?
He showed his father and the neighbors ran me out of town.
Really? Not even a thank you?
No. I suppose they didn't want a be-header of strange beasts living among them.
I set out immediately. I wandered in the vast forests of Germany and Switzerland, hunting and surviving. Meanwhile, Nicholas' fame grew. All he did was pay a dowry for a few girls! Bah!
That was a good thing, you know.
And now look at him! His deed became legend, and the legend became a fairy tale! My deeds became lost. My colors were snatched and applied to a fat man who delivers toys through a chimney. He is the candy-coated version of me! Santa Claws!
Wow. I see why you're miffed. But it is hard to celebrate the deeds of a monster-killer.
It shouldn't be, but I understand your point. How would anyone market this?
Another head?! What is that? Danny Glover?
It's a midnight elf. See the ears? And the mouth?
He's got needle-teeth!
That's right. You know why you've never seen them before? Because I kill them before they get to you. I kill everything in the frozen North. Everything evil.
Amazing. Wait. How old are you?
Hm, about 1700 years old.
How is that possible?
I drank from a magic river that gave me a long life and great health. And power.
No way.
Yes. Have you ever seen a wendigo? Of course not. I would have brought its head too, but it wouldn't fit in this room.
Is it white, like in the comics?
Sometimes they are white, sometimes black. But I have to use this to take them apart.
That's humongous!
Don't mind the stains.
This is unbelievable. So you prowl around the North Pole, looking for monsters to kill?
That's what I've been saying. After a few years of wandering, a shining man led me to a stream I hadn't seen before. He told me to drink, so I did. Suddenly I felt stronger, bigger, mighty. And I found I could see in the dark, and see through the veil that covers these monsters. They couldn't hide any longer!
You're like Santa the Barbarian. With a shirt on.
A little tip: If you ever go to Nova Scotia, bring a lantern. White Wights hate lanterns.
Uh, all right. Where do you live now?
That is a secret.
Do you have elves working for you?
No. A couple of gremlins, but no elves. They don't work for anyone.
I'm thinking you need a new name. "Santa Claws" sound like a wrestler.
That boy called me Santa Claws, so I still use it. His father was a fool, but he knew what was right. I heard that their town was almost overtaken by wolf-weres six years later. I was far from there at the time. If they hadn't forced me out-
-you wouldn't be what you are today.
Yes, I wouldn't have drank from the river and extended my life by centuries and become a monster-slayer. I'm thinking a nice, plump wife and tiny elves making toys in a workshop would have been a better idea, don't you?
I guess. Don't you have any friends?
Just the gremlins. But they vomit mouse bones all over the place.
All right then... What are your plans for the evening? Beheading of trolls, beer at a tavern, a nice movie..?
I'm going to grab an egg nog milkshake and head North.
On your sleigh? Ha ha, sorry...
On my feet. The most reliable way to go.
Thank you, Santa, for an excellent interview. Come back next year.
I will. With a wendigo head!
Interesting.👍😁😎
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