Christmas is almost upon us, and if you haven't yet read my SHANTA CLAUS short story, this would be as good a time as any, before it goes back into storage for another year...

Shanta is a story on my website that first appeared more than 20 years ago, and is set just after the end of Tunnels Of Blood. I update it every year, and it's the only place in the official Darren Shan universe where you'll find Lord Loss rubbing shoulder with Mr Crepsley and B Smith! Just don't take it TOO seriously!!! I'm going to include the first section just below, and a link to the rest of the story just beneath that. I hope you enjoy your travels with Shanta!!!!

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"Move your backside, you hairy slacker!" Mrs Claus snapped, giving her husband a sharp dig in the ribs. "It's Christmas Eve!"

"Already?" Shanta groaned. "It barely seems like five minutes since I laid my head down." It was Shanta's custom, once he finished delivering toys to all the girls and boys of the world each Christmas, to hit the sack and stay in bed until the next December 24th rolled round. He had a smart TV in the right-hand corner of his gigantic bed -- on which he could monitor the behaviour of every child, as well as stream shows such as the bone-chilling The Last of Us -- and an in-built bidet-toilet in the left. As far as Shanta was concerned, those were all the mod cons anyone needed. If you had those premier pieces of kit installed in your bed, why bother leaving it?!?

"Get moving, tubby!" Mrs Claus growled, poking him again with a thick finger. "The elves have finished packing all the toys. The reindeer are fed and ready for action -- it's foggy out, so Rudolph's leading again this year. The clock's ticking, so get your huge, hairy, pimply..."

"OK!" Shanta barked before she finished the insult. He swung his legs out (he didn't take his boots or suit off in bed) and yawned.

"And don't forget your face mask," Mrs Claus said.

"Face mask?" Shanta blinked.

"You'll be slipping backwards and forwards through time," she said. "Best to have one on you, in case you pop up in 2020 or 2021."

Shanta shivered. "They were horrible years, weren't they?"

"They certainly weren't a bundle of laughs for anyone," Mrs Claus agreed, "except for the wealthy friends of certain politicians, who made plenty of hay while a sinister sun shined. Anyway, don't forget that mask."

"Bloody masks," Shanta sniffed. Then he tried his most winning smile on her. "Couldn't you do it this year?" he asked, more in vain hope than any real expectation.

"I will if you're too tired, darling," Mrs Claus cooed sweetly, causing her bearded better half to blink with a mixture of surprise and suspicion. "Of course," she said, her voice hardening, "you'll have to handle the cooking and cleaning for the next twelve months -- those elves don't feed themselves -- and you'll also have to shovel the snow off the front porch every morning..."

"Bloody elves!" Shanta grumbled. "Bloody North Pole! Bloody Christmas!" He paused, sniffed the air -- there was a strong, unpleasant stench -- then had a quick look under the covers, at the corner where the toilet was situated. "Bloody cowboy plumbers!"

https://darrenshan.com/extras/feature/short-stories-shanta-claus-only-available-at-christmas-yuletide-favourite2