Moving and Dreadful Little Story Captures Crimson Literary Award

Once upon a time in the never never land where there are no section men and Yale does not subsidize athletes there lived a jolly old man called by one and all "Santa Claus." That's all, merely "Santa Claus."

He was a fine upstanding old man who loved dogs and children and an occasional nip. He had a beard that was white and hoary with age and he made his living as a manufacturer of men's souls. In a way, he was very proud of his job because the souls that he made were very good souls, some of them were almost flawless.

After years of this work he was making enough money to give away the souls he manufactured as Christmas gifts. It was a very satisfying way of life and he was quite happy until one day a Christian came to him for a Christmas gift.

The Christian said "I do not want a soul, give me hope for Christmas." Despite much hemming and hawing Santa Claus had to admit that he had no hope.

Shortly thereafter the New York State Appelate Court ruled that there was no Santa Claus. And that is the way the ball bounces.