Christmas Ogre

The Party Tale, Or Christmas Ogre
By William Levy
C2005

This is a Christmas story, a present of sorts, maybe a future, definitely a past.


The old ogre paused for a moment, one gnarled hand resting on a lintel in his tree home. The day had been good. Surveying the large main room, dug down into the very clay under the huge oak, he smiled as he saw old friends and new, sated from an evening’s feasting. Some faces were missing, and he felt a pang of sorrow, making swift wishes for their health and happiness, wherever they were.

Re-entering the room, a plush catmorph stroked his arm as he passed her.

“You promised…” she purred, and the huge ogre smiled.

“I didn’t forget.”

Ponderously he walked over to a large overstuffed chair near the fire, sat down with a groan, and then reached over, picking up an ancient book from a small table.

Most of the inhabitants of the room gradually stopped what they were doing and wandered over, gathering in a semicircle that included the ogre and the fireplace.
Thumbing through the pages for a moment, the ogre settled back into the chair, cleared his throat with a grunt, and began;


“Many years ago, long before the Forest of Masks and Dreams was more than a dream itself, I wandered the land, a twisted, broken being.
Once a knight, a shining hero, I’d gone forth on a quest to rescue a princess. Upon defeating the villains, I’d let down my guard. To my shock, with a howl of triumph my darling princess tore the living heart from my chest and cast me into the outer darkness with a cruel laugh.
There I dwelt, amid the refuse of the streets, racked with depression and self-pity, scarcely fit to associate with the lowest of the low.

It was Christmas Eve, and the snow was falling. It hadn’t been cold so far that winter, but it was looking to turn colder than could be survived in an unreliable junker of a car.

The shelters were crowded, and besides, I couldn’t bring myself to sell the last shreds of soul I’d clung to, just for a hot meal and a warm bed. My parents..?

That would be admitting I’d been wrong, they were right. They wouldn’t press it, but we’d all think it.

No friends, at least none with room…

I ran the rusting green car behind the sub shop. The heaters blew across there, it was warmer, and the cops never checked.

Counting my money, I discovered I had enough for a meatball sub. Not my fave, but hot food. I scrambled out of the car and around front.

Standing in line behind a heavyset old man in a thick coat, I waited patiently while he gave his order, took my tray and sat down.

‘Excuse me, may I sit here?’

Looking up into his weatherworn face, I considered hostility or apathy. The latter won.

‘Suit yourself.’

‘Thanks. Don’t have much time. Christmas Eve, you know.” Somehow he said all this while wolfing down his sandwich in seconds.

‘Yeah.’ I concentrated on making mine last. They’d let me sit there in the warmth as long as I had food on my plate…

‘I’m Santa, you know.’

‘Whatever.’ No doubt or belief on my part. I was too far gone to care. If he wanted to be Santa, that was okay. Who was I to argue?

‘Can’t get around to everyone every year anymore. Just too darn many people, even for me.’ He said, almost apologetically. ‘But I try to get around to everybody at least once, on their most important Christmas.’

I snorted. ‘Right under the wire. Dunno if it’s the most important, but it’s probably the last.’

‘Better late than never.’ Reaching into his coat, he pulled out a brown-edged envelope and handed it to me.

I stared at it. Some small remaining gasp of curiosity caused me to take it.

Examining it, I commented. ‘Looks pretty old.’

‘About seven billion years, more or less. Might be more. Not really sure.’ He beamed at me. ‘Thought you might like it.’

Shaking my head at the depth of his madness, I opened it. Inside was a piece of parchment. As I unfolded it, it began to glow, with an unearthly light.

Flaming letters read;
The universe doesn’t give a fuck.

‘What kind of cruel..?’ I fought back tears, slumping in my chair. ‘Did my ex put you up to this?’

He frowned. ‘Don’t you understand?’ Holding his hands out, the old man smiled gently.

‘It’s the greatest gift anyone ever got!’ he whispered urgently. ‘Sure, the universe isn’t gonna coddle you, protect you, or listen sympathetically as you whine. But; it isn’t taking sides, it isn’t listening to anybody, and it isn’t against you, either!’

Bringing his hands down to the worn yellow Formica table, he leaned forward. ‘Nobody ever gets exactly what they want or deserve, nothing’s perfect, and your opinion is worthless to a falling boulder.’

Sitting back he grinned at me. ‘Think about what could happen if the universe really was against you!’

‘Yeah, but…’ I was confused.

“Stop worrying about fairness, and start worrying about the people around you.’ The white-haired old man advised as he got up and walked out.

He stopped at the door, fastened his coat, and winked at me. ‘It’s a cold universe, and the only true warmth to be had is in the all too short flicker of another soul.’

A two finger salute, and he was gone.

I sat quietly for a while, then got up, went to my car and drove to my parents’ house.
No problem at all, really…”


The old ogre sighed, took a sip from a mug the kitty handed him. He smiled at her.
“I’d like to say I found my heart again that night. It’d make a better story.” He sighed again. “Truth be told, I only learned it might be possible to quest again, to strive.”

His gaze went somewhere off in the distance. “Imagine my surprise…”

Shaking his shaggy head, he smiled gently. “Well, Merry Christmas, one and all.”

A fox got up and yawned. “Okay, that was nice, I guess…”

“Don’t you start…” A snake began.

Subtle phosphorescence drifted over the room, startling everyone into silence. The ogre sat in his chair, a glowing, tattered envelope cradled in his still massive hands.
Tucking it carefully in the old book, he gave them a crooked grin. “And to all, a good night.”