Once upon a time there was a person who ended wars forever by murdering 42 Santa Clauses.

It all began about ten days before Christmas when a Salvation Army Santa Claus was murdered midtown.

A morning newspaper carried the story, but the next day five more Santa Clauses were murdered and it hit the headlines of every paper in the country.

Four of them were killed collecting money for the Salvation Army and the fifth was stabbed in the toy department of Gimbels.

And people were outraged! They were indignant! They thought what a monster, what a ghoul this guy must be, I mean, to spoil the children's Christmas by murdering Santa Claus.

They weren't concerned over the actual lives of the men murdered, it was just what effect it would have on the children that upset everyone.

So the next day the town was filled with city and state police, FBI men, and even some Naval Intelligence officers, Treasury agents, and Department of Justice officials, all of whom found excuses to get in on the case---and ten more Santa Clauses were murdered, and the elusive killer wasn't caught.

So the night all the working Santa Clauses held a secret meeting to decide what to do.

They realized their responsibilities toward the children, but on the other hand it seemed sort of foolish to go out and just get popped off by this maniac. And so one man, who was a brave man, and who had no dependents, volunteered to go out the next day in costume under heavily armed guard.

But his throat was slashed in his bed that night.

And so the next day there were no Santa Clauses in the city.

And people were all sort of irritable and jumpy, and kids were crying, and it just didn't seem like Christmas without the Santa Clauses.

But the next day some daffy Hollywood chick, some actress who wanted some publicity, came out dressed in a Mrs. Santa Claus costume.

And people and kids flocked around her, being the nearest thing to Santa Claus on the street, and she got a lot of publicity, and she wasn't killed.

So the next day several more prominent women came out, all dressed up like Mrs. Santa Claus with white powdered hair and red skirts and pillows in their stomachs and Santa Claus hats, and they weren't killed either.

They decided maybe this maniac had stopped, so they sent out one Mr. Santa Claus as a test, but within an hour his body was being taken to Bellevue in an ambulance. There were three bullets in him.

And so Christmas that year was spent with Mrs. Santa Clauses.

And the next year the same thing started to happen all over again so they sent the women out immediately.

The next year the same thing happened; and the next, and the next --- and year after year this patient and elusive maniac would kill any male dressed as Mr. Santa Claus, until finally, in the newspaper, in advertisements, and in people's minds, Santa Claus sort of dropped into the background and Mrs. Santa Claus became the central figure.

I mean Santa Claus was still there. He made the toys up at the North Pole and he was in charge of the elves, but it was Mrs. Santa Claus who rode the sleigh with the reindeer and slid down the chimney and gave away the presents and led the Christmas parade each year.

And the funny part of it was women really seemed to enjoy being Mrs. Santa Claus. No one had to pay them and it got to be such a fad that the streets around Christmas time were jammed with Mrs. Santa Clauses. And as time went by they began making little alterations in the traditional costume, first changing the shade of red, and then experimenting with entirely different colors, so finally each costume was unique and fantastic, beautifully colored, gorgeous.

It became a real honor to lead the Christmas parade.

And the kids loved it!

Christmas had never been like this before, with all these Mrs. Santa Clauses, and all the excitement, and gee!

But these kids, this new generation of children who grew up believing in Mrs. Santa Claus, were sort of different.

Because you see Santa Claus to very young children is --- a god.

And about the time they stop believing in Santa Claus the start going to Sunday school and learning about a new God. And this new God doesn't just give them presents. He's sort of rough.

But all their lives they yearn for their old childhood god, their Santa Claus god.

Like witness their prayers, their saying --- give me what I want.

But this new generation of kids who grew up believing in Mrs. Santa Claus seemed to have a different attitude toward women.

They began electing women to Congress and they elected a women president and women mayors until pretty soon the country was entirely run by women.

They were mainly concerned with things like food, and there was much debate in Congress about various diets, and pretty soon even the poorest people had a lot to eat; and they were interested in houses, and soon, there was no housing shortage.

But there was one thing they wouldn't stand for.

The just weren't going to do it.

I mean what possible political reason could make these women send their guys out to get killed? It was ridiculous!

So with their political power and their financial power and the prestige of the United States they forced and encouraged other countries to let women run things.

So war was ended forever.

Men went on doing just what they'd always done. They worked in factories, and studied higher mathematics, and gambled on horses, and delivered the ice, and argued about philosophy.

But these arguments about philosophy didn't cause people to starve and kill each other.

And pretty soon all over the world, why --- no one was hungry --- everyone had nice houses --- there was no more war --- people began to be happy.

You know when you stop to think about it, a world revolution had taken place.

And gee, 42 Santa Clauses, that's not many people killed for a world revolution.

But the murderer, or really, the saint to whom humanity owed so much, who planned and carried out this almost bloodless revolution, was never caught and crucified.

Just went on living.

No, no one ever discovered the identity of this saint --- that is --- ahh --- except me.

I know who the saint is.

Oh, I have no proof, but you see that's exactly why I'm so sure I know.

Because there is only one person capable of this, there is only one person with the genius, the daring, the imagination, the courage, the love of people, the blood lust, and patience required to carry out this greatest of all deeds.

That person is my little sister.