Disclaimer: No, I do not own The Outsiders and never will.

Darry, Ponyboy, and Sodapop climbed into bed as their father stood in the doorway watching them.

"But Daddy, I'm not sleepy," Ponyboy, at age 5, said sleepily rubbing his eyes.

His father laughed as he walked to their bedside, "Go to sleep kiddo. If you don't, Santa won't come to bring you presents and your mother would never let me live another day if you don't."

He ruffled Pony's hair and walked out the door closing it in the process. "Who's Santa?" Ponyboy asked curiously.

"You don't know who Santa is?" Sodapop, at age 8, sat up almost yelling in disbelief.

"No, why? Is he a important person?" Ponyboy asked sitting up scratching his head.

"He's, like, the importantest person ever!" Sodapop exclaimed as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

"But who is he?" Pony asked. "Darry, you know everything, who is Santa?"

Darry, at age 12, sat up in the bed and sighed, "He's that fat guy that eats too much."

"Liar Liar pants for hire!" Soda said sticking out his tongue.

"It's 'pants on fire' genius," Darry said calmly sighing.

"Whatever, same thing gi-ge-genoises!" Soda replied angrily attempting to say the word genius right.

"Nobody answered my question!" Pony whined pouting impatiently.

Darry smiled evilly, "You wanna know the story of Santa? Well I'll tell ya what he's like. He's mean and fat and forces people to work for him like his personal slaves. And on Christmas night, he breaks into peoples' homes, uninvited, through the most unprotected opening of a family's home, their chimney. And do you know why he goes into peoples' homes?"

Ponyboy shook his head as he clung to Soda's arm scared but wanted Darry to continue anyway.

"It's because once the house falls silent and everyone has fallen asleep, he goes into the kid's room and EATS the youngest child!" Darry exclaimed.

Ponyboy screamed clenching onto Soda's arm, "Darry! That wasn't nice!" Soda scolded his brother as he stroked Ponyboy's head shushing him.

"Well what do you expect from a guy whose last name is claws? He probably has those really sharp claws like bears and tigers which he uses to cut up those little brats and eat them!" Darry exclaimed getting kicks out of his version of the story.

Ponyboy began to cry as he clutched onto Soda's nightshirt, "Stop it Darry, you know those things ain't true! Stop bein' such a meanie! Pony, all that stuff ain't true, Santa's really good. He brings toys to good boys and girls all over the world and gives bad kids like DARRY rocks." Soda said proudly.

Darry rolled his eyes at his brother and stated, "Where do you think he gets the money for all them toys? He probably gets his "elves" to break into banks and steal the money."

"Santa doesn't need money! He has magic!" Soda exclaimed angrily.

"Whatever, your "Santa" is just too good to be true. I mean, come on, what freak would go around, once a year, with a huge sack of toys, on a sled, carried by flying reindeer, into strangers' homes bringing presents into every home in the world within one night?"

"Santa can! He's magical!" Soda exclaimed happily.

"Whatever, go to sleep already, Ponyboy already beat us to it." Darry said lying down as he pulled the blanket over himself.

For a moment, as Soda tucked Ponyboy into bed, he thought he heard ringing bells in the distance. He shook the thought out of his head. "Probably imagining things," he thought and fell asleep.