My grandparents had this large house that had a HUGE chimney. We were told it was so big because they wanted Santa to have enough room to get in and out. My cousins and I believed them. Every year we would be sent to be at 8 pm and then told that if we got out of bed, Santa would leave and not leave our gifts so we stayed in bed.
The year I turned 8-years-old my cousins and I decided we were going to see Santa playing games, eating treats, and spending times with our parents. Our uncle came home from California and he had barrels of wine for my family to share. Now keep in mind, most of the adults in my family didn't really drink, but this year they were excited about our uncle's gift. They really were ready to send us to bed quickly so we knew something was going on. We headed towards bed and discussed between ourselves that we were going to see Santa this year.
I remember waking up to a lot of laughter coming from the living room and I could hear a strange noise on the roof. I woke my cousins and heard lots of clumps and thumps above our heads. Suddenly we hear a crash and a lot of yelling. My mother could be heard screaming and I hear my grandmother yell out to put the fire out!
Fire! Something was happening and we were sure it was not good. We decided the danger was more important than the loss of our gifts. Heading the way, we barreled through the livingroom doors to see our parents and grandparents engulfed in smoke yelling trying to put out a fire coming out of the fireplace. When I looked closer, there was a body in the fireplace and it was on fire!
I began screaming my head off that our parents killed Santa and it cause the cousins to begin screaming and trying to get to the fireplace to help the not-so-jolly man. Our mothers were grabbing us and pulling us out of the smoke filled room while the fathers were busy putting out the fire. In the distance we heard sirens and knew Christmas was over before it began.
Sitting outside, wrapped in blankets while the firemen were dashing about a policeman came over to us and asked if we were okay because all of us were in a state of shock. My cousin Ryan blurts out, "Are you taking them to jail? Are you taking all of our parents to jail?"
"Why would we do that son?" The fat officer asked.
Ryan began to cry, "Because they killed Santa."
The Officer laughed when suddenly a loud noise occurred coming from the doorway. The firemen began carrying out arms, legs, a head. Oh, the horror of it all! These men were dragging a dead Santa out piece by piece while laughing. Did they not understand that Santa was dead and there would be no more Christmas. There would be no more happiness in anyone's life ever again.
The truth to it all was that my parents, aunts and uncles, and grandparents had a bit too much to drink and they decided they would have "Santa" the manaquin come down the chimney and surprise us all. My grandfather climbed up on the roof making noise like a Santa going to the chimney. He fell, dropping the manequin down the chimney causing it catch fire and cause the ruckus.
That Christmas we all received bikes, video games, and whatever we wanted to dinner that day. Best Christmas EVER!
Ren
That is certainly a dramatic Christmas memory to be cherished through the generations!
It really is, but it is the only one I completely remember.