My little red-nosed buddy stopped off for a visit on his way back up to the North Pole. I was glad to see him again. We had a few cocktails, told a few stories. I asked where he’d been.

“Down in old Mexico,“ he said. “Catchin’ some rays and resting up for the big night. I hated flying back across the Mexico/US border, though. Not gonna be a merry Christmas for those kids in cages.”

He got kind of quiet, so I changed the subject. “How’s Santa? Everything ready to go? The other reindeer in shape?”

“Santa’s doing better. He was in rehab for a couple months. Got hooked on the magic dust, if you get me. I don’t know about the other reindeer. I don’t hang with those guys.”

I ordered us another round. G and T for me. Eggnog for him. I guess the alcohol was making me kind of philosophical because I said, “I was thinking about you and Santa recently. You two kind of fit the archetypes of most world mythologies. You know, the hero and the Saint. Real Joseph Campbell stuff.”

“Sounds like polar bear poop to me.”

“No, really. Think about it. Santa lives a life of service, giving to others. And you’re the hero who saved Christmas.”

“That’s not the way I see it.”

“What do you mean?”

He knocked back his second eggnog and waggled an antler at the bartender, signaling for another. “You know the song. The other reindeer wouldn’t have anything to do with me.” He tapped a hoof to his glowing nose. “I’m different. Reindeer are tribal. Just like you humans, they’re biased against the unfamiliar. Otherness freaks them out.”

“But you won them over.”

“That’s the point. I shouldn’t have had to. I proved I was useful; that’s all. Those guys aren’t my friends. They accept me because I have utility. Real friends look past your flaws.”

I had to admit, he had a point.

“Besides,” he went on, “all this seasonal fuss is just a way to avoid thinking about the absurd nature of existence. It’s as pointless as…shopping.”

“But we can give our lives meaning. What about selflessness? Isn’t that what Christmas is supposed to be all about?”

The bartender brought him his eggnog. He took a long drink and smiled at me. At least I think it was a smile.

“Yes. That’s what Christmas is supposed to be about, but what’s the other big message? ‘Be good, and you’ll get stuff.’ It’s basic operant conditioning, the same way you’d train a dog. It relieves one of the necessity to thimpk.”

“To what?”

“Think. I meant think. Sorry. This is some gooood eggnog.”

I paid the tab and we went outside. I was hoping the fresh air would sober him up. We walked in silence for a bit, looking at the twinkling Christmas lights.

“Sorry to be a downer,” he said. “I know you humans like your holidays.”

“That’s all right. It’s good to look at things from someone else’s perspective once in a while. And you’ve got a lot of cred when it comes to Christmas.”

He looked up, past the lights, to the stars beyond. “You know that other song? ‘Santa Claus Is Coming To Town’? There’s one line in that song that rings true.” He hiccuped and leaned against a lamppost.

“What’s that?”

He took a stumbling run, leapt into the air, and caught an updraft.

“The line,” I yelled. “What is it?”

He looped back around and shouted, “Be good, for goodness’ sake.”

Then he flew off into the night.

I was lucky to have met a very gracious and encouraging Stan Lee when my father took me (a star struck and goofy youngster) to the Marvel offices in NYC. I was even luckier to have grown up reading Stan’s amazing body of work. I am constantly aware of his influence on my writing and my philosophy. Thank you, Stan. Excelsior!

I finally finished the novel, Hades, I’ve been working on for the last two years. Man, I’m a slow writer. An earthquake collapses a twelve-story office building, trapping three people in the underground parking garage. Weirdness ensues. I asked a few writer friends to read the first draft. Very helpful. Based on their feedback, I tore the story apart, reworked it, fleshed out the characters, etc. Whew. Now, I’m looking for representation, so if you know an agent who’s looking for a literary thriller…

And I just started adapting my story, “Stigmata,” to a screenplay.

In a blatant attempt to get people interested in The Blue Silence: Murder New Orleans Style, I’m posting forensic scientist Sean McKinney’s first adventure, A Trace of Gold, on Wattpad.

In a blatant attempt to get people interested in The Blue Silence: Murder New Orleans Style, I’m posting forensic scientist Sean McKinney’s first adventure, A Trace of Gold, on Wattpad.

More chapters are up. I’ll post the rest, three at a time, over the coming weeks. You can read them at
www.wattpad.com/user/ChicagoTimChapman

And, to sweeten the deal, I’m putting the audiobook version of Kiddieland and other misfortunes up on Soundcloud.

The first Sean McKinney story is up. You can listen to it at
www.soundcloud.com/ChicagoTimChapman

In a blatant attempt to get people interested in The Blue Silence: Murder New Orleans Style, I’m posting forensic scientist Sean McKinney’s first adventure, A Trace of Gold, on Wattpad. The first six chapters are up. I’ll post the rest, three at a time, over the coming weeks. You can read them at
www.wattpad.com/user/ChicagoTimChapman

And, to sweeten the deal, I’m putting the audiobook version of Kiddieland and other misfortunes up on Soundcloud. The first two stories are up. You can listen to them at
www.soundcloud.com/ChicagoTimChapman

To quote my favorite promoter, Stan Lee, “Excelsior!”

Join authors TIM CHAPMAN and DIANE PIRON-GELMAN (D.M. Pirrone) in discussing Writing Historical Crime Fiction. This event celebrates the release of The Blue Silence: Murder New Orleans Style. Both authors will have books available.

Friday, Nov. 10 at 6:30 pm City Lit Books 2523 N. Kedzie, Chicago 773-235-2523 www.citylitbooks.com