Fright Christmas by R.L. Stine Page B

down to the floor and slipped under the sleigh.
    I slithered along the floor on my belly.
    Up above, I heard Kristi chattering away. Kristi and Santa sat directly overhead now.
    I stopped and crawled out—behind the sleigh. The fur-trimmed edge of Santa’s red jacket hung inches from my face. The fur tickled my nose. I sucked in a sneeze.
    â€œBut what I really want is a ballerina doll,” Kristi droned on. “She’s got blond hair and a pink tutu and satin toe shoes. And when you press a button on her back, she . . .”
    Perfect timing!
    I jumped up.
    Santa turned to face me. His fluffy white eyebrows arched in surprise.
    I reached out.
    With both hands, I grabbed Santa’s big white beard.
    And I pulled with all my might!

2

    â€œH ey!” Santa shouted.
    He yanked his head back.
    Great! He’s helping me.
    While Santa pulled his head one way, I tugged his beard the opposite way.
    Before you could say “Ho! Ho! Ho!” Santa’s hands flew up to hide his pale, bare face.
    â€œHe’s a fake!” I yelled out. I waved the long white beard over my head for everyone to see. “A big fake! Now do you believe me, Kristi?”
    Kristi stood up in the sleigh and stared at me. Her mouth hung open in shock. “You’re so mean, Kenny!” she wailed.
    â€œKenny!” Mom cried. “How could you do that!”
    All along Santa Street the little kids sobbed and whimpered.
    â€œWhat happened to Santa?” one little boy cried out.
    â€œI want the real Santa!” another one shrieked.
    The grown-ups tried to shush them up. The elves ran around frantically, ringing their bells and doling out handfuls of candy.
    What a riot!
    â€œYou rotten kid!” Santa yelled at me. “Give me back that beard!”
    He grabbed for the beard. But I snatched it out of his reach. He lost his balance and nearly toppled out of the sleigh. When he sat up, he glared at me.
    I knew that look. He wanted to wring my neck.
    I stared at the beardless Santa. He looked really familiar.
    Joe! The custodian at Shadyside Middle School. Sure, it had to be!
    â€œHey, Joe!” I laughed at him. “How did you get to be Santa Claus?”
    â€œYou always were a rotten kid, Frobisher,” he groaned. “And you always will be.”
    Scowling, he grabbed his beard back from me. He pressed it to his cheeks, but it didn’t stick.
    â€œCome on, Joe,” I chuckled. “It was just a joke.”
    â€œSee anyone laughing, Kenny?” he asked.
    â€œHow could anyone do that to these little children?” a salesperson grumbled.
    â€œHe should be ashamed of himself,” another man agreed.
    â€œHe’s a dreadful boy,” a tall woman muttered as she glared at me. “No—not a boy. A monster.”
    A quick-thinking elf stood up on the sleigh and called everyone to attention. “Don’t worry, folks. Santa is just fine. His beard is magic, you know. Sometimes Santa has to take it off—so he won’t be recognized.”
    The little kids believed him. They wiped their eyes and stopped crying.
    Behind the sleigh, another elf helped Joe glue his beard back in place.
    â€œNow, if you’ll just get back in line, boys and girls,” the elf on the sleigh announced, “you can still tell Santa what you want for Christmas.”
    â€œKenny!” My mother’s sharp, angry voice rang out from the other side of the sleigh. “Come over here—this instant!”
    Kristi grinned for the first time all night.
    I gulped.
    â€œBe there in a few minutes, Mom.” I had to slip away. Hide someplace. Until Mom had time to cool off a little. Mom cools off pretty fast.
    But where could I go?
    I made my way around the back of the sleigh—and spotted a door. A sign hung on it. In big, bold red letters it said: DANGER! KEEP OUT! AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.
    Talk about a lucky break!
    I’ll duck in here for ten minutes.