Submitted about four months to late for your reading pleasure.

It's almost Christmas, and I can't stand it.

The holiday is so trivial. For just one day out of every year people get together and show their love for each other by buying cheap gifts that have no real thought or emotion behind them. At least I don't live in America, it's even worse over there from what I hear.

But the worst thing about the holiday is my classmates. They eat the holiday up like it's sugar-coated candy. It's truly disgusting to watch them salivate over what Santa is going to bring them for Christmas. They're so caught up in their greed that the idea of some fat guy whose only purpose is to give them free stuff is perfectly reasonable to them.

I just don't get how they can believe in such an obvious lie as Santa. "If you want presents for Christmas, you'd better be good!" Anyone with half a brain could see that it's just a way for parents to force their children to be good without having to do any actual parenting. I'd respect the idea if it didn't sicken me so much. Sometimes it seems like adults enjoy fooling us children, just for their amusement.

I guess I should give them a little slack; they are only seven after all. But I'm seven, and I seem to have completely skipped over this phase of immaturity.

The only reason I'm even at this stupid Christmas festival is because my parents made me go. "You need to spend more time with your classmates," they said. "Make some friends," they said. But why would I want to be friends with any of these people?

Oh, and the children are screaming in joy now. That can mean only one thing: Santa has entered the building. Luckily, I'm standing far enough away so as not to get trampled by the mob that formed as soon as they saw the bozo with the gray beard. Somehow they form a line, and Santa starts handing them poorly wrapped presents that the school probably bought from a dime store. The kids don't mind though, they are quickly racing their new toy cars and comparing dolls that will have their limbs pulled off by January.

At last, Santa finished giving out the mediocre gifts. He scanned the small auditorium looking for anyone he missed. Oh goody, he's spotted me!

As he walked over, I got my first clear look at him. I had to stifle a laugh, the doofus wasn't even that old! Apparently the idiots in charge of the school had hired a high school student to play the role of Fat Loser in Red.

He reached me and kneeled down to my height. I could see him getting ready to start the "Ho Ho Ho!" business and decided to cut him off. "Look, I know you aren't Santa, and that there isn't really some guy who gives gifts to every kid in the world on Christmas." I say bluntly. Surprisingly, he looks more relived than shocked about the fact that I'm not as gullible as most children my age.

He sighed and sat next to me, tossing his now almost empty sack of toys to the ground beside him. "Thank goodness," he said, smiling. "I'm tired of doing this anyway." He scratched his face harshly. "This beard is killing me, it's so itchy!"

Not sure of what to say for once, I told him my name. He nodded, as if he were expecting it. "I haven't heard in such that name in a long time…" he mumbled, partly to himself. I decided not to ask him what he meant, it was probably nothing.

We sat awkwardly for a few moments. "So," I ask, trying to start a conversation. "Do you normally get your kicks from tricking elementary school children?"

I really hadn't meant to be that direct, it had just popped out of me…

He sighed once again. "Do you have to be so cynical about it? What's the problem with me making some kids happy?"

"What's the problem?" I repeat back at him. "You're giving them a false hope that there is someone like Santa in the world!"

He thought it over for a second. I was expecting him to try and put together an incoherent and condescending argument about how I was "too young to understand". Even though he was probably still a minor, he probably already had the same mindset as most adults. To them, the ends justify the means when dealing with young children because they Know Better. Or maybe he would just tell me to shut up, like other adults who are tired of kids asking questions that poke holes into their numerous lies-

"Well who's happier, you or them?"

The simple answer threw me, it had been miles from what I had been ready for. "Well, I…"

"Look at them before you answer," he said, gesturing to my classmates.

And so I did. I looked at the snot nosed brats with their toys and games, playing and laughing with each other, having fun. I really did despise them.

'Are you sure that isn't jealousy?' said a small voice in my head. Was it? Was I really happier than them? The thought that they had a better perspective on life than was disturbing, to say the least.

The guy playing Santa stood up. "Look," he said. "I know you won't follow this advice to the fullest for a while, or at least the last part of it. But try and lay off the cynicism a little. It's a really nice world out there, or so I hear."

He reached into the sack he had left on the ground next to him, and handed me a plainly wrapped present. He handed it to me with a small smirk. "And, smile a little more! You'll live longer!"

The kid tossed the sack over his shoulder and started to walk towards the exit. "Hey!" I called, getting his attention. "What's your name?"

He smiled again, and then replied, "Just call me Kyon." With that he walked out of the building, waving at the children as he passed them by.

I stood there for a few moments, thinking about what he had told me. What bothered me was that I had probably known everything he had said about me, at least deep down. Now I could finally admit it to myself, and start to catch up on wasted time. Suddenly I realized that I was actually smiling, something I hadn't done in weeks. I thought about asking some classmates if they wanted to play, but decided against it for the moment. I would settle for slow change, and besides, I didn't really want to become an eternal optimist or social butterfly. After spending the first seven years of my life at one extreme, the thought of rapidly swinging to the other wasn't pleasing.

Eventually I realized that there was something in my hand, and I remembered the present he had given me. I slowly opened it, and looked at what "Santa" had given me for Christmas.

It was a black book; a dictionary to be more precise. In a large, incredibly lame font that the publisher had probably deemed spooky, the title read: "Dictionary of the Paranormal".

I laughed, and while it still carried a certain detached amusement I did detect a hint of genuine humor. What a useless book! Why would I ever need this? I flipped to a random page and the word "Esper" caught my eye. I'd never heard the word before, so it was at least vaguely interesting. I started to read the entry.

Who knew? It might be useful to know about all this paranormal stuff later in life.

This story went through several incarnations before I arrived at this one. The first one was pretty much this with about two thousand words at the beginning explaining how Kyon got there. The whole thing was going to be written from his perspective, as opposed to Kyon's(little). Luckily I realized how stupid making the explanation of a story almost twice as long as the actual story was and got rid of that. And then I realized that Kyon actually says that the Santa in question went to his school's Christmas festival instead of just his classroom like I had originally written it. And then of course there was the incredibly long rant from Kyon(little) that I had to get rid of... but I finally ended up with this.

Also, I am fully aware that time traveling that far back in the past is impossible, which is why Mikuru is in Kyon's time in the first place. Rest assured that there is a perfectly valid reason for this. I don't know it, but I'm sure there is an explanation. I did try to explain it away, but any attempt would have been way too wordy. So I'll let the reader decide how it happened (maybe Haruhi took him there?) By the time I caught it the story was too far written to let something like a massive plot hole make me can the entire thing. If this is inexcusable rape of the MoHS canon and I should be hung for it, please let me know by sending a review!

Kyon, OOC (both versions)? I think he works, but I may be totally wrong. Inquiring minds want to know!

I'll stop fishing for reviews now. Thanks for reading,

Windfox