It was Christmas Eve and everything was still. No sound dared to permeate the thick walls that protected us from the cold winter outside. If even a rodent had dare to invade our humble abode, his scratching and gnawing, that was usually obscured by the television, loud talking, or other distractions would have been immediate detected. The creature's only saving grace would be the fact that it had a appeared on such a humble night, staying its inevitable execution for another, less sacred, occasion.
I had just finished hanging our Christmas stockings over the fireplace and was preparing to slip into an evening repose along with the rest of the house. It was a job that should have been done earlier but the insistence from the family to have a constant roaring fire in the fireplace made me wary of having a group cloth socks hanging so near an open flame.
Having finished the task, I extinguished the fire and wandered sleepily down the hall. As I did so, I took the opportunity to stop and look in on the smaller residences of the house.
The children of the house, usually an overly rambunctious lot, were, for once, tucked quietly in their bed. It was a nice change, to have them pacified so easily. They had scrambled to bed even earlier than usual for fear of missing out on the next day's treasure trove of gifts.
When I finally reached the master bedroom I quietly slipped into the bed, careful not to disturb my wife. She made a small groan as the ma tress sank under my weight but didn't protest my arrival any further. I laid back and, with a great yawn, I allowed my eyes to gently begin to close as I drifted off to sleep.
At that very moment I was shot awake by a strange and mysterious noise coming from outside of my house. It was a mechanical sound, as if gears were grinding on gears growing softer, then louder, then softer again.
I rolled out of bed and made my way to the window. It took a moment to navigate my way through the curtains and blinds. On any other occasion, a task that that would take mere seconds, now seemed to be a great trial. I was so curious to look outside I struggled first with pulling back the curtains and then finding, grasping, and pulling the cord to operate the blinds.
The moment the blinds did go up I was accosted by the brightness of the white snow that covered the front yard. The effect was amplified by the presence of a full moon making everything look as if it were in full daylight.
The noise that had woke me had faded off but its source was now fully visible in the illumination of the night. It was a large blue, rectangle object. If I hadn't known better I would have thought that some well wisher had dropped it off as a Christmas present that was so oversized it would have drawn undue suspicion had it not been delivered discreetly upon Christmas Eve night or Christmas morning.
My hope in an admirer with a penchant for large gifts was dashed, however, when I noticed a door opening on the side of the object and a tall, curly haired man wearing a long scarf exited accompanied by what looked like a mechanical dog. In the man's hand was a large red sack.
I was so mesmerized by the scene that I almost didn't see the man and his dog close up the door on the blue box and make his way across the lawn to my front door. When I finally noticed that this was happening I crept quietly down the hall, ready to defend my home from the mysterious intruders.
Everything was very quiet for what seemed an eternity and then I heard a small buzzing followed by a click, signifying that my front door had somehow been unlocked.
This was followed by the creak of the door as the man entered my home. At the same time my burglar alarm began to beep softly, gently prodding that it required a code to be entered lest it bellow out an ear piercing noise that would wake the entire neighborhood, alert the police, and frighten any nefarious persons away from the residence.
I readied myself for the oncoming klaxon should I, perchance, have the opportunity to rush the intruder and, at least leave him with a couple of good lumps as reminders to leave my house unmolested in the future.
Alas, the opportunity never presented its self. Before the machine's countdown could trigger am alarm the man held up a small cylindrical object, nearly the size of an ink pen, and pointed it at the electronic device. After a small buzz the alarm stopped beeping and the man placed the object into his pocket.
Having gained entry into my house, the man stepped outside for a moment and returned hauling the large red sack behind him. He then made his way, followed by his mechanical dog, to the living room.
Despite the fact that his journey only took him from the giant blue box in the yard to my front door, he was covered in snow, and he didn't seem concerned about leavening wet shoe prints all over the carpet. He was also not very concerned that his scarf was so long that the ends of it had trailed off onto the ground behind him leaving remnants of snow, dirt, and dead leaves in their wake.
He had taken on the persona of an old fashioned door to door salesman. With one quick motion, the man pulled the sack forward and plopped it onto the ground.
Suddenly, I had forgotten the urge to attack, to defend my home and family. I was much more interested in who this man was, and what he was doing. He didn't appear malicious. There was no expression of evil intent in anyway about him. On the contrary, his eyes seemed to twinkle with delight, as if he were doing some great service to the world.
The oddest thing was the way he made me feel. I had never seen this person in my life. He had just broken into my home. Yet, despite everything, I had the sense that I could trust him implicitly. There was little doubt in my mind that if some great disaster had befallen me at that very moment this stranger would be the first to assist me.
He didn't say anything at all but went straight to work, reaching into the red sack time and again and pulling out all sorts of things. He filled the children's stockings with candy and toys. I got an electric shaver, and my wife received a beautiful necklace.
When he was done, the man stepped back and took a deep breath in satisfaction. "That's done." He said with a wide smile showing a good portion of his front teeth.
Immediately the mechanical dog's ears began to twitch. "Human life form detected, master." It chimed out.
The man offered an annoying look to the metal beast. "Why didn't you say so before?" He asked.
"You instructed me to not to speak until you do?"
"Don't be so literal, K-9. All I meant was-" He stopped as soon as he notice that I had been watching from across the room. When he did he turned his whole attention to me, starting with a goofy side wise smile.
"Hello." He said, pulling out a small white sack from his pocket. "Would you care for a Jelly Baby?" He asked. "I'm the Doctor, by the way. And this is K-9"
"No-no thanks." I stuttered in response. The scene had become so bizarre I could hardly form the words to reply to much of anything. In the end I could only manage to utter, "What are you doing here?"
The Doctor looked slightly annoyed at the inference. "What do you mean?" He asked. "I'm leaving you gifts. I'm Santa Clause."
"Santa doesn't exist." I explained. "And you just said you were called The Doctor."
"Why can't I be both?" He countered. "And how do you I'm not Santa or if I exist at all." He began chewing on several Jelly Babies at once.
"For one thing," I began, completely unaware of how ridiculous the conversation would have sounded at any other time and place. "You're not old, jolly, or wearing red, you have a metal dog instead of eight reindeer and no sleigh. And if Santa existed he would have been discovered by now." I crossed my arms in front of me, certain that I had made my position clear and infallible.
"You mustn't believe every thing you hear, see, or read." The Doctor countered. "However, you do have an inquisitive mind, well, for a human anyway. I think that deserves, something extra." He reached inside his red sack and pulled out a small square package wrapped in a mesmerizing gold paper. He stretched out his hand offering it me.
"It's a little gold, frankincense, and myrrh. I had a little left over from last stop."
"Um, thanks." I said, accepting the gift There were a million other questions I wanted to ask but the oddity of the situation forbade it. Instead I gurgled a few symbols meant to represent some sort of speech on my part.
The Doctor ignored it all. He packed up his red sack and with nearly no further acknowledgment of my presence and slipped past me, K-9 trailing along behind. He made his way through the front entry way and then to the cold, snowy, outside. Before fully closing the door, however, he stuck his head back inside for one last declaration.
"Oh yes," He said behind his continuing goofy sort of a smile. "Merry Christmas to all and to all a good night."
With that, he slammed the door. A few seconds later the air was pierced with a loud mechanical sound. I ran to the nearest window just in time to see the large blue box in my front yard fade away into nothingness.
After that, I found a nice comfy spot on the couch and sat down to contemplate what I had just witnessed. Most importantly, I had to wonder, if Santa actually exists, did he ever, or does the Doctor just delight in showing up randomly with gifts?