Mrs. Claus’ Cure for Homicidal Ideation
sheena d.
Because you’re not the only one who saw Mommy kissing Santa Claus
Mrs. Claus dreams of a future where no sleigh bells ring and no goddamn iPhones ding. This is the only night clumsy loud-ass Saint Nick keeps the fuck out of her sight. The only night she feels delight. Mrs. Claus screams at the moon. The crescent thing knows this bitch has cracked and will probably kill spy-cam-addicted Santa soon. It’s the night to do what’s right—sharpen the knife and prepare for a changed life. She sits and thinks over a drink. After just two sips her rage loses grip. Why not just get in bed, have a few more swigs instead? Chugging until that literal and figurative motherfucker vanishes from her head. When Santa returns tomorrow she’ll have tucked away her sorrow. She’ll forget the sharpened knife and, like a good wife, keep shit merry and bright.
We recommend this nightcap for people who live in cold places, have cold faces, or need help avoiding court cases.
Ingredients
water
all the bourbon in the world
lemon
korphiunaja or another artic honey
splash of sherry, bitters, or hot tears
a sprig of pine* (if you skip this, fine)
a mug
santa’s nicest suit, to wipe up ‘accidents’
Preparation
Change into your négligé. Grab a hand mirror. Flip to Jodi Arias: An American Murder Mystery. Turn the volume up until the house shakes.
Directions
Boil water, preferably over a fire fueled by broken sleighs and twice checked lists, until it is hot enough to scald anyone who betrays you
Stab the lemons in the chest, listen to the county prosecutor tell Jodi to imagine how much it must have hurt the guy she killed when she stuck that knife in his chest, don’t imagine how good it felt—that was a bad thing to do
Beat other ingredients in a mug
Stir while pouring in water; stabbing someone is bad
Marvel at yourself in your hand mirror, how could he cheat on you???
Add more bourbon
… more!
Take a sip and add more stuff until the drink tastes as perfect as you do
Look in the mirror and say, with conviction, I am NOT like Jodi, I will not waste my freedom on a man
Have 1-2 drinks every hour or until all homicidal ideation subsides
About the author:
sheena d. is an essayist, humorist, and doodler based in NYC. Her stories and essays have been published in Autostraddle, Taco Bell Quarterly, Split Lip Magazine, and elsewhere, and featured on Longreads Best of 2022 list. Find her on IG @bookofsheena.
