Shawn lay in his bed, pretending to be asleep.
Every few minutes, his mom would come by and crack the door open. When he heard the squeak of the old hinge, he would stir quietly and let out a tiny snore…just enough to convince her he was sleeping.
But he knew he wasn't really going to sleep.
Not tonight.
Tonight, he was going to catch Santa.
His heart began to race just thinking about it.
He'd hatched the plan three days ago, when he and Gus had gotten into a philosophical discussion about the existence of the munificent elf.
"Shawn, there is no Santa." Gus had told him matter-of-factly. "Think about it. How could he deliver all those presents in one night?"
"Easy," Shawn answered, his faith unshaken. "Magic."
"Magic?"
"Sure."
"Then how about this," Gus continued, crossing his arms. "My mom told me that she buys all my presents."
"Maybe that's because you're on Santa's bad list," Shawn shot back. "So she has to or you wouldn't get any at all."
"Me?" Gus sounded horrified. "Why would I be on Santa's bad list?"
"Because you don't believe, Gus! That's an Automatic Bad List Offense."
"What's an Automatic Bad List Offense?" Gus asked, his eyes wide with concern.
Shawn stood up a little taller, suddenly the knowledgeable one.
"My dad told me about them. It's when you do something so bad, Santa automatically puts you on his bad list."
"Like what?"
"Like…keeping frogs in the toilet. Or hiding comic books and dart guns under your bed. Or telling people there's an oxygen tax."
"But, that's all stuff you did." Gus pointed out. "So you should be on Santa's bad list, too."
"No," Shawn shook his head. "My mom has his phone number. She talked to him and got me off the hook."
Gus rolled his eyes.
"Shawn! There is no Santa!"
"Yes there is!" Shawn stamped his foot stubbornly. "And I'll prove it! I'll catch him on Christmas Eve when he drops off all my presents!"
"How?" Gus demanded.
"Umm…I'll set a trap."
"What kind of trap?"
"I don't know…but I'll think of something! And I'll get a picture of him!"
"Yeah, right."
"You'll see!" Shawn insisted, storming away.
It had taken him three days, but Shawn finally came up with the trap, even though it wasn't much of a trap…just your basic trip wire system (one at the chimney, one by the tree, and one hidden by the kitchen table, where Shawn made sure to leave out a corned beef sandwich and a beer….which, his father had assured him, Santa preferred to chocolate chip cookies and milk)…but Shawn was sure that if he stayed awake and listened, he'd eventually hear Santa fall. And then he'd have him!
His automatic Polaroid camera was under his pillow, ready to take the picture as soon as he heard the crash.
That would show Gus.
He glanced at his clock. It was already past midnight.
He swallowed, starting to get just a little worried.
When's he coming?
Maybe Gus was right…
Maybe I am on his bad list…
I didn't know the oxygen tax was an Automatic Bad List Offense!
The minutes ticked by slowly.
Still no Santa.
Finally, at 1:27, Shawn heard something…
He held his breath.
There was definitely movement coming from downstairs…shuffling feet…voices…
Santa!
He crept to his door, straining to hear what was being said.
Suddenly, there was a loud crash and an angry shout. Shawn quickly grabbed his camera and jumped down the stairs.
It worked!
He ran into the living room, where the tripwire by the tree had apparently done its job, as the tree had been knocked over and someone (Shawn couldn't see who through the branches and ornaments) was struggling to get up.
He snapped the picture.
"Santa!" He squealed happily.
"SHAWN!"
"Uh-oh."
That's not Santa…
Henry finally managed to free himself from the tree's grasp and stand up, his face as red as the Santa cap on top of his head.
"What the hell is this?!" He demanded, ripping the tripwire up out of the floor.
"Umm…"
"Shawn!"
"I was trying to catch Santa!" Shawn explained quickly. "Gus doesn't believe me he's real…did I miss him?"
"Yeah…" Henry groaned, rubbing his back. "You missed him, Kid. And I'm pretty sure attempted Santa-cide is an Automatic Bad List Offense.""