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'Why does that sound so familiar?'Then he remembered. There had been a weird case, months ago, that was still partially unsolved – they'd found the killer but not his last victim. A wild animal had mauled and killed a serial killer. The victim had disappeared, presumably dragged off by whatever or just walked away. The body was never found.'That's still impossible!' he thought.But yet, it had happened. And now, a badly wounded victim of another attempted murder had disappeared – again. A possible answer occurred to him. He picked up the phone and dialed four four."Charlie," he said into the phone, "Do you have the victim's clothing from the shooting last night? ... No. The lady that disappeared from ... Yeah. That's right. Was a blood sample taken at the scene? ... What? ... It was typed at the hospital? ... Why would they do that? ... Huh. Makes sense."The other thing I need," he continued, "is the blood type from the May killing where the victim disappeared ... You remember that. "Don't you move, motherfucker! Open the register! Now!" Candi?" Stacy asked me. "Are you still there? Candice?" Everybody move!" Another voice, another man shouting. "Move the fuck over there!" Call you back," I whispered.A woman began screaming, her voice shrill with fear. Probably the old Vietnamese woman who owned the corner market."I love yo..."I disconnected on her and dialed 911, setting my phone down on a shelf loaded with Campbell's soup."Bitch! Gimme the fuckin' money!" the first guy yelled.BLAM!! Ka-chunk!Three or four people screamed as the spent shell rattled hollow on the floor."Don't you fuckers move!" perp number two shouted, and I pulled my SIG Sauer, very much hoping they hadn't just blown away any chance for a happy ending.I moved low to the end of the aisle, popping up for a quick look and the place wasn't very big. Five aisles with me in number four. The freezers were behind me, the chillers with beer and milk at the other end, near the checkout and the front.
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Now, I was a grown-up of six, and wanted to impress Santa with the seriousness of my request and depth of my longing. When my turn came, I stepped forward confidently. Santa lifted me onto his lap, smiled, and asked, "And what do you want for Christmas, little boy?" Something happened at that moment. I guess it was being called a "little boy," but suddenly, I started to cry. It was like being three years old all over again. Santa just looked at me with an expression of tenderness and puzzlement. When he saw that my river of tears showed no signs of abating, he gestured quickly to one of the young ladies clad in elf costumes... She put a sign at the head of the line that said: "Santa's Gone to Feed His Reindeer. Back in 10 minutes." Santa guided me into the area in back of his store display. He attempted to soothe me, but decided the best course would be to just let me get my cry out. After about five minutes, my tears suddenly subsided. "What is it, son?" he gently inquired. This.

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