Timmy

“Why’d you do it?” asked the police officer.

“Because he didn’t do what I asked him to,” replied the little girl holding a black puppy in her arms.

“What did you want him to do?” the officer asked, as beads of perspiration formed on his upper lip.

“I wanted him to give me what I wanted. That’s what he’s supposed to do, isn’t it?”

“Where’d you get that idea?”

“My parents. My grandparents. My teachers. Everyone! Didn’t they tell you that all you had to do was be good and you’d get whatever you asked for?” She peered into the officer’s eyes.

He couldn’t match her stare, and instead focused on the puppy lying in her arms, as he tried to think of something to say that might reach her.

“Well, yes, I guess I can understand how you thought that, but just the same, you killed him. You killed Santa Claus!”

“It was all a big, fat, lie! Bigger and fatter than he was! I should have been able to hit him as much as I wanted to. He’s not supposed to die! He’s supposed to be like the Easter Bunny or the Tooth Fairy. I bet he never even rode in a magic sleigh or came down a chimney or anything!”

Her eyes moistened as she spoke.

“But why would finding out that Santa Claus wasn’t what your parents and everyone else told you he was make you want to kill him?”

“I keep telling you! He didn’t do what I wanted! I asked him to give me Timmy back, to make him alive again, and he didn’t do it, so I hit him. I hit him! I hit him! I hit him!”

"What did you hit him with?"

She looked at the puppy cradled in her arms.

“You hit him with Timmy?”

“The first time I saw Santa; he just smiled and gave me a stupid candy cane. So I snuck out of the house when my parents weren’t looking and came back to see him alone. I even brought Timmy with me so Santa could see how wonderful Timmy is. I knew Santa would love him too.

"But when I saw Santa sitting on a curb behind the store, I almost didn’t know it was him. He was smoking a cigarette and his beard was on top of a garbage can. But I went over to him. He was my only hope to get Timmy back. When he saw me, he told me to get lost! He said Timmy smelled bad and that I was bad for having him with me. So I hit him with Timmy. I guess Timmy was kinda hard or something, cuz Santa fell down after I hit him the first time. I busted Santa’s head open with Timmy. That’s how Timmy’s fur got all messed up.”

Almost unable to speak, the police officer forced himself to continue. “Uh, what exactly happened to Timmy? I mean how did he die?”

“I hit him.”

“So let me get this straight...you killed Santa Claus for not bringing the dead puppy back to life that you yourself killed?”

“Yes.”

“And why did you kill Timmy?”

“I dunno, I guess I was having a bad day.”