by Jace D. Albao (b. 1969)
Tears of sulking gloom stained his frown. He flinched at the quiet knowledge that he was being watched, day and night, all his actions known, whether disorderly or charitable.
He got up from his favorite chair and walked across the dark empty living room to open the front door. On the cusp of confusion and paranoia, he stepped out to the cold unlit porch in his underwear to see the army of well-wishers standing on the sidewalk, bundled in gay apparel. Young and old, male and female, they held candles and printed music.
And with yulish enthusiasm, they sang:
You better watch out,
You better not cry,
You better not pout,
I’m telling you why:
Santa Claus is coming to town…