Sleep Disease

On the other side of the table sits Santa. Unbelievable, but true. He arrived, as promised, and knocked on my door. Thank God he didn't use the window this time. I'm the type of person that doesn't exactly sleep at night, especially if it's winter break, so I have this chance of meeting and having a good talk with Santa every time he plans to visit my house.
The part that surprised me is that Santa wasn't the old man anymore. Apparently he retired and let one of his trusted students to take over. Santa is now, of course, a young man. I wonder if there will ever be a young woman as Santa Clause.
I served him some hot chocolate and sweets. What will he say, I wonder... What story will he tell me?
Apparently, the old man gave him some homework: to decide whether the kids on the list deserve the presents, or not, based on some facts. Because I am such a good girl, I decided to help him.
First kid: he likes punk rock music and he is playing in a band, with a few friends from school who share his interests. He made his neighbors angry a few times because of the excessive noise, but he's not really a bad kid. He doesn't talk too much, but when he does he uses sarcasm as a weapon against who ever was talking to him. He's not using "bad words", but he's not exactly nice to girls. Hiss grades aren't bad at all, and he's not on bad terms with the teachers either. He has lots of friends who he cherishes. He wants a BOSS Md-2 Mega Distortion pedal and a girlfriend.
"This little brat can go fuck himself, he's really on the black list. And how the fuck am I supposed to give him a girlfriend?!" the new Santa said.
"I don't know, but he doesn't seem that bad. He has a dream, he has good grades. As for the girlfriend, give him some porn."
"He doesn't seem bad? Holy ghost, this little brat is listening to PUNK! And he's not nice to girls!"
"Well, your language isn't really adequate for Santa Clause either. You're worse than the old man! And I think you got the wrong house, Santa."
"Why's that?"
"I'm one of those little brats who listen to the mighty Punk which brings all the bad things to the world!"
"Unbelievable! Oh, holy ghost..."
"What?"
"..."
"You just said..."oh, holy ghost.."
"You're the holy ghost?"
"Hello. Nice to meet you. I'm Ghost. Holy Ghost."
"Jesus!"
"That guy lives in the other part of the down. If he didn't already leave."
"Am I even in the right world?"
"Yes you are, and I think you have to move your ass and deliver those presents. Let me see that fucking list...Let's see: punk, brat, killer, psychopath...Ahh, whatever. They're all good kids. I bet you have the address on every damn present. That means you don't even have to look on the list."
"Ah....true.."
"Mr. Santa Clause...you are a little bit stupid."
"Indeed. I'm off. See you next Christmas!"
"Take care! Bye bye!"
And so my meeting with the young Santa ended. I've poured some hot chocolate in my cheap mug, and I am now sipping cheerfully, while waiting for an explanation from the old man. This Christmas is nice after all.