‘Tis the Season to be Naughty, Part I

I’m beginning to remember why relationships are so dangerous for me. Alex and I have been seeing each other for a couple of months now, but since our first night together, we haven’t been able to keep our hands off each other. His family is from Minnesota, so we’ve had some time apart in this holiday season, but he is constantly on my mind. 

I’ve traveled a lot. Too much for my own enjoyment; I’m already missing the simple joys of being in my cabin in Colorado. Alex has been amazing though, and I’ve heard fewer complaints from Olympus as this job has stuck. I need some distraction though, so I booked the earliest flight I could for New York City. There are few places in the world that provide as much distraction as the Big Apple, and for the holidays, people seem to take their shopping as seriously as they take their jobs.

After Samhain, I decided to look into the horned god and discovered many other horned beings still recognized by this modern era. Stumbling upon legends of a creature named Krampas, I watched videos on YouTube that Alex found for me of festivals, and even rented a movie by the name of the creature. For most, this is a time for giving, but with my newfound confidence in being accepted in Salem, I’ve decided to make some of my own traditions. Those new traditions start here in New York City.

To start out, I was going to have to find some supplies. Coal was the most important, but I wasn’t really sure where to find it. I also wanted to look the part, so I was going to need some clothes. I started at a place called Walmart, and they had everything: a Santa bag, hats, and these beautiful sweaters with reindeer and colorful noses with fluff balls that would capture all my festive cheer.

I quickly grabbed my outfit, then found myself a member of this strange wonderland with a blue vest that depicted the Walmart symbol.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for some coal.” 

Looking at me, then my cart, they smiled. “Has someone been naughty this year?”

“I’m not sure yet, but I’m going to find out.”

They laughed, but I brushed it off. I was making my own traditions; I didn’t expect them to understand.

“Let’s try some charcoal, come with me!”

We went to the part of this magical place where they kept many of the outdoor tools I knew and loved. Tents, fishing equipment, grills, and even a few guns. They pulled out a bag from a lower shelf and asked.

“Will this work?” they asked as they held up a bag of charcoal.

“What is that? Is it some special kind of coal?” Again, they laughed at me.

“No, it’s charcoal, you know, for cooking on a grill? It’ll give the same idea as coal for Christmas, though.”

“You think so?”


I beamed, taking three bags. I smiled at them and thanked them, wishing them a very Merry Christmas. They did the same and went back to where we met. Placing this last item in my cart, I checked out and made my way back to my hotel.

I had everything I needed. I had this fantastic sweater, a red hat with a fluffy bobble at the end, just like Ol’ Saint Nick, and a big ass red bag that I could fill up with the charcoal I just bought. I changed into my outfit, the bag was filled up to the brim, and I was nearly ready to take to the streets. Looking into the mirror, I removed the glamour to reveal my true form. I looked perfect, but I really wanted to sell it, so I started to practice.

“You’ve been naughty…” That wasn’t right I needed more growl to it.

“You’ve been verrry naughty!” Much better. Now to test it on the people of New York. I needed a place of degenerates. I’d heard of clubbing, so I’d try one of those first. To my surprise, everyone loved how I looked. The few that stopped to look said Merry Christmas, but very few people even seemed to care how I looked. A group of girls, at one point, stopped me and asked to take a selfie. I complied. There was a flash, they laughed and ran off as they thanked me. From what Alex told me of the city, these girls were probably tourists taking in the big city. This city was exhilarating and strange.

Finally, I got to a club! Aphrodite’s Alley sounded promising to me for a bit of naughty behavior. As I got up to the door, a man five inches taller than me and twice as wide stopped me, barely disguising an apparent eye roll at my getup.

“What’s in the bag, bub?”

“Oh uh, it’s just part of the look.” 

He was not impressed. “Yeah, what’s inside? I’ve gotta see it before you go in.” 

I looked around, pretending to be scared to buy myself enough time to glamour the charcoal into wads of cash.

As he opened the bag, his mouth almost hit the pavement. “Holy shit! Can I take one?” 

I don’t know much about his job and I don’t think he’s supposed to ask, but what did I care? It was just a big bag of charcoal. “Be my guest! Merry Christmas.” 

He grabbed a couple discreetly. He was going to be sorely disappointed when he got home and it turned back to coal. I made my way inside.

The decadence and behavior were perfect. Young women dancing, nearly bare with a bunch of men huddled around, half-wasted. I respect all forms of work, but this tradition called for the most basic definition of naughty because I was running out of time to celebrate this year. I sat down at a table near a dancer and made myself comfortable. Nobody, except for the dancer here, seemed to notice that I was there. This was going to be a very fun tradition.

89 total views, 1 views today

Pan (Rhett Martens)
Pan is and always has been at the heart of his scribe, Rhett Martens. In Rhett’s free moments from working as a web-developer, he writes fantasy, horror, and occasionally humorous biographies about his life as a previously homeschooled, evangelical Christian, turned flaming homosexual pagan (does that make me a witch on fire?). He shares way too many cats with his fiancé as they bounce from apartment to apartment. Activism, our environment, loving their cats, and accepting people of all orientations and genders is at the heart of who Rhett is, as well as who Pan might be in the 21st century.
Pan (Rhett Martens)

Latest posts by Pan (Rhett Martens) (see all)

Pan (Rhett Martens)

Connect with Rhett Marten: Website | Instagram | God Twitter

Support Rhett's Writing:

Patreon | Ko-Fi

1 Comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published.