Confessions of a bad Santa

Dear Santa,

I trust you are handling the annual Christmas rush well.

Hopefully you don’t get as stressed as many people I know.

Me? I don’t get too worked up about holiday shopping — the stores are always open long enough on Dec. 24 for me to get whatever I need.

I am troubled about one thing this Christmas though. During the busy period — when you were in demand at parades, malls, hospitals, seniors’ Christmas parties and the occasional burlesque show — you didn’t second me to fill in for you.

It’s actually been many years since you asked me to don the red suit and be Santa.

You once enlisted my services five or six times a season, raving about how authentic my “HoHo-Ho” sounded, and frustrated that I needed two pillows to fill out the suit and it still didn’t look good.

Anyway, you’ve indicated that it’s not the case, but I can’t help but wonder if you’ve relegated Santa Steve, Suit #7465, to the sidelines because of “the incident.”

I know dropping, full suit, into a bar called the Duke of Duckworth after a children’s Christmas party did untold damage to your legacy.

Also, I fully realize plopping down on a bar stool, stretching the beard to my chin and sipping Guinness violated the Santa Code of Ethics.

And, although it seemed like a good idea at the time, I’m now sincerely aware of the consequences of sparking up a cigar while sitting at the bar and drinking the dry stout.

Agreed, it was a fire hazard and it’s really not good for your image when shocked patrons are yelling, “Santa drinks and smokes!”

And speaking of your rep, I know it was a grievous error and did serious damage to your integrity when I took my beer and cigar, walked over to the video lottery terminals and played the e-slots.

Yes, some Sunday afternoon dart players standing a few feet from the VLTs debated whether or not you were still a positive

You once enlisted my services five or six times a season, raving about how authentic my “Ho-Ho-Ho” sounded, and frustrated that I needed two pillows to fill out the suit and it still didn’t look good.

role model.

Santa, again, I’m sorry. I would never do anything like that again (unless there were large bills involved).

It’s too late for this year, but please give me another chance at playing Santa.

Wearing the suit was just so rewarding — the look in a child’s eyes when I’d pass them a gift, the face on a toddler when I’d stoop to shake their hand, the panicked look of a parent after I signalled that their child was trying to pull off the beard in front of 50 captivated kids.

I also loved driving to events in full red-galia, a honk and a wave to unsuspecting pedestrians, a surprised driver in the next lane at a traffic light, the shocked worker in the window at the Tim Hortons drivethru.

It was a riot.

So, Santa, what do you say? Will you give me another shot at wearing the suit?

I don’t even need the pillows to fill it out any more.