[ WP ] A budding young sociopath sits on Santa 's lap .

`` Come on, Jimmy, it's just one month out of the year. You can do this.'' 
 
 For James Carlton the mantra was less about steeling himself for the event rather than the faint hope the self fulfilling prophecies were real. Every year he did this to himself and every year he swore it was the last time. The money was n't even that good. Why did he become a Mall Santa anyway? He hated the gig so why did he do it? 
 
 It was n't just the wet laps from the kids with poor bladder control. It was n't even the relentless pace. No, he hated the affluenza. Wealthy children who seemed to think the world owed them a larger slice just because of who their parents were. Every day he'd deal with what felt like an endless parade of entitled brats followed by the rare child who wanted nothing more than gloves to keep his hands from freezing this year at the homeless shelter. Or, worse yet, some child expecting a Christmas miracle to heal a cancer stricken parent. Why was it his responsibility to teach some children life's disappointments at such an early age while sheltering others from cruel reality? It turned his stomach and withered his resolved. He hated being Santa. Not that any of the parents or children seemed to pick up on it. No surprise there. They were all so self absorbed. 
 
 `` Ho ho ho!'' he shouted, `` Merry Christmas!'' 
 
 All the children in the line cheered as they saw him stepping out of the tiny dressing area and approaching the gold painted chair. Stupid chair, Jimmy thought to himself, would it kill them to put a cushion on it? His butt would be sound asleep within an hour. 
 
 As he approached the ersatz throne he finally noticed that not all the children were cheering. There, standing in the front of a line of underprivileged and Ritalin saturated brats, stood a small child with black hair and a curious look on his face. His eyes were empty of holiday cheer. He seemed more perplexed than interested. 
 
 Great, Jimmy thought, First customer of the day is going to want me to heal his sick mom. May as well get it over with. 
 
 Jimmy plastered a fake smile to his face and waved a beckoning hand to the small child as he sat down. 
 
 `` Well come on, little boy,'' he called out in what he hoped was a deep and jolly voice, `` Come tell Santa what you want.'' 
 
 The child gave a sidelong glance at the rest of the line before approaching Jimmy. It was almost as if he were participating in some alien ritual. Cautiously, he climbed into Jimmy's lap and perched there as if he was not entirely certain he was doing this correctly. Jimmy fixed him with an approving smile. 
 
 `` What's your name, little boy?'' Jimmy asked. 
 
 `` Simon,'' the boy replied evenly. 
 
 `` Simon! What a wonderful name! Have you been a good little boy?'' 
 
 Simon cocked his head to one side and seemed to contemplate the question. 
 
 `` Is that required?'' he finally asked. 
 
 `` What?'' Jimmy asked. 
 
 The boy sighed. 
 
 `` Never mind,'' Simon said, `` I've been as good as can reasonably be expected.'' 
 
 `` What?'' Jimmy repeated. Something was wrong here. This was the part where all kids, poor or rich, would at least lie and claim to have been less bratty than normal. This sudden derailment of routine felt off. 
 
 `` Er,'' Jimmy said, attempting to slip back into character, `` That's good. So, er, what do you want for Christmas, Simon?'' 
 
 Simon thought about that for a moment. He drummed his fingers on his lap in quiet contemplation before replying. 
 
 `` Lime,'' he declared. 
 
 `` Limes?'' Jimmy asked, `` Like the fruit?'' 
 
 `` Not that lime, no,'' Simon corrected, `` It's used in gardening.'' 
 
 `` Oh! You like to garden?'' 
 
 `` I like to plant things,'' Simon said, `` But they do n't grow.'' 
 
 `` Well, maybe you just need to work on that green thumb.'' 
 
 Simon shook his head. 
 
 `` By the time it turns green it is far too late.'' 
 
 `` What?'' Jimmy asked. What sort of nonsense was this? 
 
 `` Is there anything else?'' he asked in a desperate attempt to get the conversation back on a normal track. 
 
 `` Cat food,'' Simon declared. 
 
 `` Oh! You have a little kitty?'' 
 
 `` No,'' Simon corrected, `` But the other animals seem to like it.'' 
 
 `` You feed it to animals?'' Jimmy asked, `` Like, what, little woodland creatures?'' 
 
 `` Yes,'' Simon said, a touch testily, `` I just told you. For my garden.'' 
 
 `` Oh no!'' Jimmy said, chuckling as he finally caught on, `` When you have a bunch of animals living together it is n't called a garden. It's a zoo.'' 
 
 `` Yes,'' Simon agreed, `` When they are living together.'' 
 
 The child made no sense. Jimmy guessed he was probably one of those special education kids that occasionally showed up. They would babble in nonsensical ways and expect him to decipher it because he was Santa. Well, never mind. 
 
 `` Cat food and lime,'' Jimmy said nodding, `` Well, I suppose I can get the elves to work on that. Are you sure you do n't want a toy train or a new bike?'' 
 
 Simon, again, seemed to think about the question before responding. 
 
 `` No,'' he finally said, `` My old bike is fine. I would like to have a basket for it so I can carry my gardening tools. It is a long walk to the woods where I keep my garden.'' 
 
 `` Good idea!'' Jimmy said with a wink, `` Makes it easier to carry that watering can without spilling a drop.'' 
 
 Simon frowned at the suggestion. 
 
 `` Watering can?'' he asked. 
 
 `` Your garden wo n't grow if you do n't water it!'' Jimmy chuckled. 
 
 `` I do n't want it to grow,'' Simon replied slowly, `` I want it to shrink.'' 
 
 Special needs kids. 
 
 `` Well, I'm sure if you continue to be a good little boy you'll find a nice surprise under the tree!'' Jimmy said. 
 
 Simon looked taken aback at that suggestion. 
 
 `` You know about what is under the tree?'' he asked. 
 
 `` Of course! I'm Santa! I know everything!'' 
 
 Simon's eyes narrowed. 
 
 `` That could be a problem,'' he mumbled. Jimmy was going to ask what he meant by that but Simon surprised him by leaning in for a hug. Jimmy chuckled and patted the small boy's back as he felt the little hands questing behind him. Strange little boy. The child then stood and quickly tucked his hands in his pockets before shuffling away. Jimmy just shook his head and waved for the next brat in line. 
 
 It was only later in the evening when he finally took off the hot and sweaty costume that he discovered his wallet had gone missing. 

