The Christmas Bet

Santa and Krampus were playing their regular Friday night poker game. Santa was down a couple of thousand dollars. He couldn’t figure out how he was losing when he had some pretty good hands, but Krampus would win with a slightly better hand each time. Just this last hand, Santa had 3 Queens and was sure he’d win, but no, Krampus won that hand with four deuces. Santa was broke and out of a bankroll but still wanted to gamble. So, knowing better, he still suggested a final hand.

Krampus thought about it some, rubbing his hairy chin. After a bit, he said, “You have nothing worth to bet…”

Santa interrupted him, “What about the good little boys and girls?” He was sure his luck had changed, and he’d win back his losings.

Krampus smiled a sly smile and rubbed his beard some more. This bet was just what he wanted. Santa had walked right into Krampus’s well-laid plan. “ALL the good boys and girls for ALL this cash and jewels. Is that the bet, brother?” Krampus gloated

“Not quite. ALL the good boys and girls, for ALL this cash and jewels PLUS the ALL naughty boys and girls, that’s the bet, brother,” Santa reiterated.

Krampus rubbed his chin. He got up, and he paced back and forth for a moment. Krampus cleared his throat, started to speak, stopped, and walked a few steps more. Finally, he sat back down and said, “You’re on.”

They decided on Seven Card Draw and agreed the deuces would be wild. Santa shuffled. Krampus cut the cards. Santa dealt.

Santa was sweating buckets. Krampus commented that the room was starting to smell like peppermint—everyone knew Santa’s sweat smelled like peppermint. Santa growled at Krampus. Santa wiped his brow.

Suddenly, Santa smiled so big. He chuckled a little ho ho ho. He was ready to lay his cards.

Little did Santa know that Krampus was ready to lay his cards almost as soon as the cards had been dealt. So when Santa said he was ready, Krampus just waited for Santa to lay his cards.

Santa laid out his cards one by one. Ace of clubs. Deuce of clubs. Three of the clubs. Four of the clubs. A wheel straight. Santa looked up. Santa smiled his sickly, sweet smile. “Ho HO HO, bet that, brother!” He challenged Krampus.

“I don’t know if I can. Let’s see what I got,” Krampus began laying his cards down individually. First, he laid down an ace of diamonds. Then, another ace of spades. Then he laid down the last ace.

Santa laughed, for he knew he had one ace and three twos. Krampus had no hope of beating him and knew it just as well as Santa.

Krampus laid down the ten and Jack of hearts. Santa felt a little uneasy. He was no longer chuckling.

Krampus laid down the queen of hearts. Santa felt sick. There was no possible way. Statistics were against luck like this. Krampus was just screwing with him.

Krampus flipped over the last card. It was the King of hearts. A Broadway Straight.

Santa’s scream could be heard across the world. An earthquake happened that year at the North Pole, with a Richter scale score of 8. Krampus laughed loud and long, and as the clock struck midnight, he left, and Santa stayed behind. Only one had a job to do that year. That was the year all the good and naughty children were taken by Krampus. Since then, Santa has refused to bet more than he had the funds.