Local toddler Albert Cameron, age five, was shocked this past week to learn that Santa Claus is not a real person. After overhearing his mother discussing where to hide the empty costume, Cameron locked himself in his room for 12 days and only recently came out of seclusion, with the new view that life within the bounds of social construction is meaningless.
Cameron’s mother Nancy Cameron expressed her deep sadness for letting the secret slip. “We feel so bad for traumatizing young Albert.” Mrs. Cameron said. “We never meant for him to find out this way. We had wanted him to figure it out himself at the age of 13, just like how he would end up learning about the birds and the bees.”
Albert has reportedly been extremely despondent after coming out of seclusion, saying things like “If Santa doesn’t exist, how can I be sure I or other aspects of the world around me exist?” and “Life is merely one’s desperate scramble to attach meaning to a perception of chaotic stimuli.” He also began to refer to possible delusions, when he explained to one reporter, “Mother died today. Or maybe it was yesterday. I can’t be sure.”
John Biner, the local elementary bully, was very confused after speaking with Cameron. After telling Cameron that he “better give him his lunch money” or Biner would “hurt him real bad,” Cameron replied, “Pain is a figment of the mind, as one tries to find some proof that one exists. Hurt me, and the pain will fade and I will go on my way. Or take this worthless paper that we try to assign value to, and go on thinking that life is logical. Either way, just like Santa, your identity as a large, socially dominant male isn’t real and it doesn’t matter.” Biner was reportedly seen running away, crying.
“We are all the living manifestation of Sisyphus,” Cameron stated. “We push our boulder of this search for happiness up the hill that is mundane life, only for it to roll back down for us to start over. One can only find peace when they accept that it is useless to push the boulder, useless to pursue such imaginary dreams, and useless to believe that Santa knows when you are naughty or nice.”
Cameron’s father, Fred Cameron, was adamant that his son would give up his “crazy voodoo nihilistic ways” once he showed him how great life could be.
“I took him to Toys R Us and told him he could pick out any toy he wanted,” Mr. Cameron said, “and he walked over to a shelf and picked up a Nerf gun. I was really excited that he was going to change his ways, till he started squinting and commenting on how ‘piercing the light was,’ saying he could ‘shoot or not shoot’ and then shot me with the gun five times in the chest and walked away as if nothing had occurred. I fear that he may be too far gone for me to help him.”
For the time being, Cameron has no intention of changing his new life view, spending his time writing prose on the subject, while also staring dead-eyed at a blank wall. Cameron commented on his post-Santa life, saying “While life is meaningless and existence is futile, I hold out on a sliver of lightness. I can’t wait to reach the day when I am met by the one incorruptible, joyful figure that transcends all social constructs and cannot be touched or denied existence by the minds of others: the Easter Bunny.”