We now bring you a message from La Flama Blanca.
I can’t stop staring at this soda vending machine. September hasn’t even come to an end and already, he is back. His fat red cheeks stop on top of the big white beard and joyous smile. The ice cold soda bottle in his hand looks real tasty.
I don’t believe in Santa Claus.
A comical thing for a grown ass man to say. I celebrate the holiday but I understand the true meaning of Christmas. I understand who the holiday is actually about, and it’s not the guy who lives at the North Pole.
My parents tried selling me on that garbage when I was a child. The world tried selling all the little boys and girls that a jolly fat man would spend the whole night before Christmas bringing the world gifts. Well, not the entire world. Only those who believe in him and the real reason we have the holiday... Jesus Christ.
As I get closer to the vending machine I can see my reflection in the glass. Sometimes it's odd seeing what's usually covered by a mask. I swipe my card through the machine and make my selection. The soda is brought down a little conveyer, down to the opening hatch. The door opens and I start to fish it out.
Whatever you want to call him… “Jolly Ole” Saint Nicholas, Kris Kringle, Popo Shisho or just simply Santa, he doesn’t exist. He is not a real man and he never was. He is an ideal. He is a story that is spread from generation to generation.
I crack open the cap, watching the cold chill from the carbonated beverage escape the bottle.
The IDEA of Santa Claus is much more than just him giving gifts, his sleigh, the elves or his reindeer. It’s a way for adults to teach their children right from wrong, good from bad.
I take a few large gulps, getting a little bit on my blue dress shirt. I wipe my lips and burp. I keep my attention on the current subject.
You are told, “If you’re not good, Santa won’t come to our house, and you won’t get any gifts.” We all know that is bullshit. Mommy and Daddy go heavily into debt to buy each one of their little shit kids the newest tablets, and the most advanced game systems.
I laugh to myself.
It’s sad. I know the fans who come to UTA live events go broke to make everyone happy for a few hours.
Whether their lil bastard is good or not, they still get what they want. The Naughty List, if you are bad you get coal? Well that’s a crock if I ever heard one. Has anyone ever received coal?
I didn’t think so. I was one of those morons that thought if I did what was right, helped others, and acted selflessly that it would bring great things. Boy, was I wrong. When you are a child, you don’t know any better. I sure didn’t.
I get the feeling I’ve been standing here for a little too long so I get on the move. That picture of Santa got my mind going.
I always knew there was something off about Santa Claus. I knew it didn’t make much sense. This man would have to make the impossible, possible. I don’t care how much you believe in something as stupid as a morbidly obese white guy in a red suit, climbing down the chimney and putting presents under your Christmas tree.
Downtown Johannesburg seems a little quiet for this time of day. The clouds overhead could be the cause. I take another sip of my soda as my eyes look at each passing store. Expensive shoes, high end fashions, top of the line electronics is all I see.
Then I stop… I see him again. That’s two Santa’s within two city blocks. I have yet to even see any Halloween decorations.
Every year it seems like Christmas forces its way into our lives, earlier and earlier. It’s not even Halloween yet, and stores are stocked with ornaments, lights, tinsel and all that other garbage. One day of the year commands so much attention.
I stay focused on the man who this whole holiday really seems to revolve around.
The world adores Santa Claus, they put his likeness on their homes, their sweaters and... some mouth breathers dress like him and gather to get drunk. Dozens of beat nuts dressed like Santa sit behind steel bars, how funny.
It’s called Santa Con, Google it. It’s dumb.
Santa Claus has everything and is everywhere it seems. He has songs written in his name, chocolates with his image on them, and idiots at malls who collect a paycheck on his likeness. Mothers give themselves to him... but why? That’s what I want to know.
Santa has a big heart. He gives to the poor and underprivileged. He’s the biggest good guy in the history of mankind. Yeah… sure he is.
It’s more than likely due to the fact that the world is filled with idiots. Idiots that every year put themselves one foot in the poor house just to make everyone feel like they've had a good Christmas. Idiots that spend hard earned money on people they hate just “because”.
I shake my head disparagingly. It just makes no sense to me.
Even with all the misery that goes along with the holiday that this man takes on as his own, pushing even our lord and savior out of the spotlight on his supposed birth, people always get excited when they see the jolly, gay fat man in the red suit.
I know the UTA sure has. Anything to make a quick buck, right?
I take another sip of my soda and shake my head, showing on my face my level of irritation.
Everyone is so happy to see Santa Claus back. They can’t wait for him to bring them gifts, share a yuletide laugh with ole Saint Nick. The kiddies can see Santa on their TVs, putting bad guys in headlocks and body slams. The UTA did the SMART thing by bringing Santa back.
Now they can throw that dumb bastard out on national TV. They can put his face on all types of merchandise before the holidays. James Wingate might be stupid but he always knows how to make a buck. Santa Claus coming back to the UTA, ensures eyes stay on the UTA.
The publicity stunt of all publicity stunts and I’m the one who is getting lost in the shuffle. I’m the UTA World fuckin’ Champion. I deserve, I command more respect than that. People won’t shut up about his return. “Did you hear? Santa is back.” “Yey! Santa is back! Wooo!”
I’m starting to get angry. It seems that it’s all about the fat man’s return, instead of what Monday night is really about… The Luchador.
I don’t really care that he’s back. I just don’t.
Do any of you honestly think Santa gives a damn about you? Santa isn’t here for all the little kiddies around the world. Santa isn’t here for spread joy across the UTA Universe. Santa isn’t here for championships like everyone else on the roster…
I finish off my drink and toss it into the trash. Much like I’m going to do in Cairo. Show the world that I’m not laughing. Show the world that I’m not going to play along with the fun.
Santa is here for one thing and one thing only, money. Santa knows he just has to show up, kiss some ugly babies, and he will get paid. He is going to fly in to Egypt on his sleigh. The fans are going to stand on their feet when his music hits.
I keep walking down the street and see some fit female twenty somethings walk out of a douchey clothing store. They all look so fake… I’d still fuck ‘em. Johannesburg and much of South Africa celebrate the holiest of Catholic holidays unlike the site of next Wrestleshow.
The funny thing about it is… not many people in that audience celebrate Christmas, but they will all know who Santa Claus is.
Santa Claus transcends the world much like Michael Jordan, Coca Cola, and McDonalds.
I can guarantee everyone in that arena in Cairo is going to know Papa Noel when they see him. The thousands of boys and girls in the audience are all going to perk right the fuck up when they see the jolly fat man step out on the entrance ramp.
The thought makes my stomach turn. He’s not a wrestler, not in any stretch of the imagination. Everyone knows I’m the best damn wrestler in this company, that’s why I hold the biggest prize in the industry. Something he will never do.
He’s going to throw them candy canes... shit he might even have a few gifts for the people at ring side. For all I know he could spend thirty or so minutes giving out presents to everyone in the Covered Hall. He might even have something for me…
A slight drizzle starts to fall. A drop hits the top of my head and rolls down my forehead.
I wonder if Santa has a piece of coal for me? I hope he does, because I’m doing to shove it down his throat and beat him senseless to the horror of the people in Cairo. They will look on in disgust when I destroy the jolly, gay, fat man in the red suit. I’m going to be the most hated man in the UTA. More so than I already am.
I take my cell phone out of my right jean pocket. It’s almost time for me to go back to my hotel, I have a UTA engagement for the International Tour this evening. I’m excited for my first match since my historic victory over Alex Beckman.
I’m going to take great pleasure kicking every tooth in that moron’s mouth down his gullet. As the tears roll down the faces on the young children in the audience, I’m going to make Kris Kringle suffer. I’m going to chop him down like a Christmas tree.
I crack a smile, continuing down Commissioner Street. See what I did there?
I know I’m going to be at a size disadvantage. That’s an understatement. He fought Yoshii and held his own. Everyone expects Santa to crush me like a bug.
Not gonna happen.
I don’t care about that though. All I care about is crushing the hopes and dreams of every little kid in Cairo. Shit, around the entire globe. I will expose him to you all. I will let the world know that… he is a fraud and an imposter.
My thumbs speed on the screen and then I press send. My ride is a few minutes away. After tonight it’s on to Cairo.
"Wrestlers don't retire. They just quit calling the bookers back."
- Madman Szalinski