The Nefarious God Father

Once upon a time there was little poor orphan girl who, through the bribery of the corrupt owner of an orphanage, was adopted by a wealthy but cruel woman and her three ugly daughters just to be used as a servant.

And not only was the girl made to be a servant, cleaning the woman’s large house from top to bottom, but she was treated very harshly, without one ounce of love or affection; made to wear dirty rags while the woman’s daughters were given pretty dresses to wear and beaten while the woman’s daughters were given hugs and kisses.

And even at Christmas time, when the woman would buy expensive toys for her daughters, all she would ever give the little girl was a lump of coal.

“You’ll get that and tears for Christmas”, her wicked foster mother would say, smiling cruelly,“And nothing else from me”.

But the little girl didn’t really care about toys or fine things, all she really wanted was to be with a loving family that would not be cruel to her and every night she would look up to the evening star and wish,

“Oh please”, she wished, tears spilling upon her cheeks, “Please. All I want is a mothers and a father’s love. That’s all I wish for”.

But then, one Christmas eve, her foster mother took her two daughters out shopping.

“Our mothers going to buy us toys and sweets and other nice things”, the two daughters said, taunting her as they left, “And you won’t have anything this year but a lump of coal and tears”.

And as they shut the door behind them the little girl ran off to cry.

But then, after an hour had passed, suddenly, the girl heard a strange noise coming from the chimney in her foster mothers living room, as if someone was struggling to climb down it.

“Perhaps it is Santa Clause”, she thought, hopefully running to the fireplace.

But as she waited and hoped; instead of an old man with a bushy beard and a bright red costume; a burglar came down the chimney with a stripy shirt and a mask.

“Who are you?”, she asked.

The burglar put his finger to his lips.

“Shhh”, he said, looking furtively about, “Are you the only person here?”.

“Yes”, said the girl, “My foster mother and sisters have gone out Christmas shopping”.

The burglar reached into his pocket and took out a small doll.

“Be a good girl and play with that”, he said.

The little girl took the doll and smiled, she’d never been given anything before except lumps of coal and so to be given a doll, even by a burglar was a wonderful thing.

“Oh thank you”, she said.

“You’re welcome”, said the burglar, looking around, “Now did you say your foster mother owns this house”.

“Yes”, said the little girl.

The burglar looked at the little girl’s ragged dress and how thin she was,

“But how can the daughter of someone who owns this big house be so thin and dress in rags?”, he asked.

The girl told the burglar about how her foster mother treated her, making her work like a slave.

Then the burglar, not sure that he believed her, asked to see her hands and saw that the little girls hands, though her face was as soft and sweet as an angels, were all rough and calloused like someone who had been forced to work terribly hard.

“Your foster mother is a terrible woman”, said the burglar, sympathetically, “And as soon as I get my hands on her money, you’re coming home with me instead”.

“Her money?”, asked the little girl.

“Yes, I’m a burglar; a robber; a thief”, said the burglar, “Didn’t you know?”.

“Oh”, said the little girl, becoming frightened, “But you can’t steal from my mother, it wouldn’t be right. Please don’t steal from her”.

“Why not?”, said the burglar, “She’s obviously a cruel and horrible woman. Doesn’t she deserve to be burgled? I mean, I may be a burglar but there are some things that even I wouldn’t do and one of them is to treat a little child so cruelly”.

Hearing this, the little girl became less frightened because the burglar didn’t seem such a bad person.

“But isn’t it wrong to steal?”, asked the little girl.

“In a perfect world I could give you a simple answer”, said the burglar, “But in this world there are many kinds of crime, some of which are not thought of as crimes at all. Have you never wondered whether it was right, at this hallowed time of year, that in spite of all the fine speeches of rich people, there are children who are terribly poor while other children live in lives of luxury?  Don’t you think it’s a crime that all little children can’t have the same happy Christmas? Why does one little girl deserve less happiness than another, just because her parents happen to be poor. If we really loved children, as much as we say we do; we would love them all the same, wouldn’t we?”.

“I suppose so”, said the little girl.

“But is the system that keeps that division between rich and poor going and forces some little kids to have miserable, rotten Christmases thought of as a criminal system?”, said the burglar, “No, it is not and yet a loving father who breaks into a shop and steals toys for his children to give them a happier Christmas because he can’t afford to buy them; he’s called a criminal. That is the wicked kind of world we live in, little girl”.

But then the burglar rubbed and kissed the little girls head,

“But once you show me where your foster mother keeps her money and her jewels, well then we can both have a jolly good Christmas. No more rags for you and no more lumps of coal”.

And so the little girl showed the burglar where her foster mother kept all her valuable possessions and then the burglar took the girl home to live with him.

Now there are probably some who will say this is not a proper and moral end to a tale written for children; that a burglar is not a suitable parent for a child and so instead of dressing him in a stripy jumper and mask, I will dress the burglar in Lincoln green and put a bow in his hand and say that his name was Robin Hood and that the little girl went off to join the merry band of thieves that live in a  mythical and evergreen Sherwood forest; robbed from the rich and gave to the poor.

Whatever ending you prefer, though it was not what the little girl had wished for and even though the thief was idle and greedy he was a kind and gentle man and the little girl was not unhappy living with him especially since, thanks to all the money that her miserly foster mother had hoarded in her wall safe and a couple of fake passports, the burglar and the little girl were able to fly to South America where they both lived, in a big South American villa richly and happily ever after.

And the wicked foster mother? When she got home from her shopping trip, she saw that her house had been burgled; she had no money left at all and had to sell her big house and her and her daughters were reduced to scrubbing floors to make money but the burglar and the little girl had left something for her in her safe; a big, black lump of coal.