I had to repeat the question in my mind. Do you think santa gets angry. I started to believe that perhaps I was in a bit of a dangerous situation. Who knows what kind of crazy this person was. Maybe she was just "I live in a flashy drug induced haze" crazy, or maybe she was, "I'm going to carve you like thanks giving turkey" crazy. I didn't want to hit the wrong button and end up in more pieces than her mind appread to be in.
"Yeah sure." I replied carefully. "If Santa existed, I bet he'd get angry from time to time. I mean, everyone does right?"
"If he existed?" She repeated, with a hint of frustration in her tone.
Uh oh. Maybe I was sliding too close to that button already.
"Listen fella... hmm. I usually don't say fella, that's a bit off isn't it?"
I wasn't sure what to say, at this point I was afraid that any word out of my mouth could trigger a frenzy.
"You don't think Santa exists?" She asked.
"Well, no. I mean. Not unless you consider your parents being Santa."
"I don't have parents."
"That's kind of sad." I sad quite genuinely."
"I don't think so. But we're gettin' away from the point here fella. Oh hey! I do say that!"
I was afraid of what the point may be, weither it was a figurative statement or if some length of steel would be invovled.
"Do you believe in giant flying squids that puke up crazy girls?"
Now I had to be careful. What if I said no? What if I said yes!? The catch twenty two of the century! I couldn't think, my mind kept racing back and forth. In the midst of the confusion I uncontrollably uttered the only truth that crossed my mind.
"I'm so screwed."