In the words of Doug Ten Napel:
This is a fairy tale. By fairy tale, I mean that this is true without being fact. There’s an important distinction we used to believe in that we don’t believe in so much any more, and that is the idea that there are truths outside of facts. The forms of story telling that best house this claim are Myth and Fairy Tale, for they are not about facts, but are about truth.
This is one of my favorite stories about my Grandpa Mosey. Whether or not it happened, I don’t know. It’s possible that I heard the story wrong and supplemented the rest from my imagination, but that is what makes the following tale a fairy tale. So, if you know the true story, don’t bother correcting me. I’ve got my own truth here, and it is pretty good.
Even better, it is short.
It was December, not long before Christmas. In fact, my grandpa had been playing Santa in town for some VFW function. When he got home that night, he carried the rented Santa suit in one arm and his gun in the other. My dad, being just a boy at the time, saw what his father brought in and drew his own conclusions.
Bursting in tears and running to his room, he cried, “Daddy shot Santa Claus!”