The Boy Who Hated Christmas - Part 2

Patrick's class, being on the whole distracted by the plethora of shiny things about them, resigned themselves to not understanding the mystery of Patrick's mild-mannered Christmas hatred (which always bubbled beneath his surface like a crock pot). Day in, day out, they simply wished him a Merry Christmas, and put bewildered expressions on their faces when he politely refused on the basis of corporate oppression.

Soon, the school holiday arrived, and with no classes in session, time quickly accelerated to three times it's normal rate (as according to Einstein's Theory of Perceptual Relativity). At this speed, Christmas Eve quickly arrived.

At home, Patrick's parents, kind people filled with the spirit of Christmas, had desperately tried to interest him in presents, Santa, and things of that general nature, but to no avail. On Christmas Eve, they even tried appealing to his scientific nature by sending him to Norad's Santa tracking website, but he simply pointed out that the military was simply participating in a socio-economic conspiracy perpetuated for the continuation of the enslavement of the downtrodden masses. Eventually, Patrick's parents went to bed, leaving him to his searching on the internet for more information on economic conspiracies.

Just past midnight, Patrick heard a clatter on the roof. "Is it hailing outside?" he wondered. But, a moment later there was a "Poomf!" from the fireplace, as Santa landed at the bottom of it. "Ho ho ho, Merry Christmas," Santa said, walking over to Patrick. "Here's a little boy who needs some Christmas spirit."

"Hello," Patrick said politely (for his parents had taught him well in that regard). "I was wondering if you would show up. I must say I have some complaints about this whole Christmas thing."

"Complaints?" asked Santa. "Why, what could you possibly complain about? You're an eight year old boy, and it's Christmas! Ho ho ho! Look, I've brought you some presents," Santa said as he pulled presents out of his bag.

"Well, let's start with those," Patrick responded. "The earth has enough environmental problems without the huge amount of tree killing and plastic production that goes into producing and wrapping these things that people unnecessarily give to each other endlessly."

"Oh, you are a thoughtful boy," said Santa, "but I actually get the wrapping paper from the trees on the planet of Centaur VII in the Orion nebula, and the plastic from the Plasticronium Empire of Gelatin IX. I would never think of harming Earth."

"Oh," said Patrick. "So you're harming other planets instead?"

"My, no," said Santa. "The trees must be regularly harvested to reduce the mass of Centaur VII, else the whole system would tumble into a black hole. As for the Plasticronium Empire, they have many technologies designed to produce plastic in a environmentally friendly way. Plus, few people know this, but after Christmas I collect all the wrapping paper and plastic packaging, and throw it into a black hole for safe disposal."

"I see," said Patrick. "So that just leaves the elf sweatshops."

"Oh, heavens no," replied Santa. "The elves have a full union, and I provide them with full health and dental plans, among many other benefits."

"Oh," said Patrick. Santa's replies had given him pause... perhaps he shouldn't hate Christmas so much?

"Now, a special boy likes you needs a special present," said Santa, "so I've brought along my good friend Bill Gates." Bill Gates suddenly popped out of Santa's bag, as the Microsoft Windows Startup tune played in the air.

"Bill Gates!" exclaimed Patrick, his Christmas hatred flaring up again. "Well, hello," greeted Patrick politely, "I have some things to say to you, also."