Okay.
So we’re just going to tell you right off the bat… we didn’t write this story.
With all of the stuff going on out there with the AI, we wanted to take a look at it. So we played around with one of the AI generators for writing, mostly because we said, “How can the computer come up with a coherent story?”
Well, you be the judge here. Being the holiday season, we went for a Christmas theme. We wrote the very first line, typing into the generator (NovelAI is what it was called) only, “Santa didn’t eat the cookies”. The generator came up with the rest of it a few lines at a time.
The results, we think, are a little frightening (in more ways than one).
This is not something we’re going to try again as we do like creating our own stories. But this was just something we needed to look at, and wanted to share with you. So, enjoy the madness that we decided to title, “The Best Christmas Ever.”
PS - Other than the title we added to the picture, the image was created by AI too.
Santa didn't eat the cookies.
He just stood there, looking at them with that strange look on his face again—like he was trying to work something out in his mind. I think it got me a little scared.
I thought about the gun and wondered if my dad really would shoot Santa Claus. Then I started worrying about all those presents under our tree. If they were gone...what then?
It was strange to think about presents when my dad literally had his shotgun pointed at the back of Santa's head. But for some reason, it made sense to me right now: The whole world could be coming apart around us but we still needed Christmas presents from Santa or else everything might as well have ended already!
Dad couldn't afford much this year anyway. That's why he came up with this plan.
"What do you want?" Dad finally asked me without taking his eyes off the big man who looked ready to bolt up the chimney anytime now. He sounded kind of mad. Like maybe he felt cheated somehow by not knowing what I wanted for Christmas. Or worse—that I wouldn't ask for anything special because I figured no matter what I told him, it wasn't going to happen. "Just tell the fat man here."
The thing is, though, I hadn't given any real thought yet to what I'd like most. And even after seeing all these cool things here tonight (though mostly just toys). So I said nothing. Not sure how long we waited before my dad cocked his shotgun once more.
That seemed to make Santa nervous. His mouth moved faster than ever as he tried to say something, but his lips kept moving too fast and none of the words actually formed properly so instead he sort of grunted and huffed through gritted teeth. It must've been hard for him to talk while Dad held that gun to his skull.
But then suddenly Santa turned toward Mom. She stood beside the couch with her hands clasped together behind her back and she smiled nervously; almost like she expected something bad to happen. When he spoke, his voice was soft, barely above a whisper.
"Help me."
For a moment, I watched my mom try to decide what to do. Her expression changed quickly between confusion and worry. She gave a sidelong glance at dad. Finally she took one step forward, put both arms around Santa's shoulders and gave him an awkward hug.
"I'm sorry, she whispered back, as she backed away.
Dad chuckled and pressed the barrel of his shotgun deeper into the back of the old man's head. I thought I saw a tear run down Santa's cheek.
"My boy here is going to tell you what he wants," Dad told him. "And you're going to pull it out of that magic sack of yours. And if he doesn't get it...well, let's just say there'll be a lot more disappointed children in the morning."
For a minute, nobody did anything except stare at each other across the room. My mother glanced over at me.
"You don't understand, I can't just pull anything I want out of my sack," Santa desperately tried to explain. He went into this long explanation about the magic of his sack, but Dad cut him off.
"I'm sure that with millions of kids in the world, someone else asked for the same thing my boy is about to tell you he wants. Just grab theirs!" Then he turned in my direction again, making sure to keep his gun level with Santa's head. "Go on, son, tell him what you want."
I didn't want to say anything. I was sure that no matter how this ended, it wouldn't end well for me.
So I simply shook my head slowly.
Dad frowned. He stared at me for a second longer, then lowered his weapon slightly. "No need to waste your breath, kid. You know you won't get whatever you want anyway. This guy's a fake!"
When I hesitated another couple seconds, Dad raised his shotgun again. "You're going to get everything you want for Christmas, boy! I'm going to make sure of it!"
Then suddenly I remembered something I knew Santa had brought me last year. A baseball glove. I used it all summer long and loved playing catch with my friends. I bet Santa could find me one exactly like it. Maybe better. Because I never played much ball until then.
With a deep sigh, I nodded my head. I guess I should thank Santa for bringing me such a wonderful gift. At least I had that.
Dad was getting nervous now. He'd expected this to go quickly, and my silence was making this last much too long. He poked Santa in the back of the head with the barrel and said, "Pull something out of the sack. Anything."
Slowly, Santa reached inside his bag, grabbed a toy car and threw it onto the floor at my dad's feet. He jumped back, startled by the toy's sudden appearance. I noticed the smile fade from his face instantly.
As soon as he recovered, Dad snatched the tiny vehicle and examined it closely. Then he waved it in the air in front of my face. "Is this what you want?"
Still, I didn't answer.
My dad tossed the car aside and smacked Santa with the barrel of the gun. "He doesn't like it. Pull out something else!"
After a few moments of searching, Santa pulled out two dolls. One was a baby doll wearing pink pajamas. Another was a blond-haired girl dressed like Barbie.
"My boy look like a little girl to you? Try again!"
Santa set the dolls aside and reached into the sack a third time.
Finally, he produced a small box. With great care, he lifted out its contents—a gold watch. He showed it to my father first, and then handed the prize over to me himself.
Mom gasped. For a second, I forgot where we were and just stared at the shiny new clock hanging on my wrist.
She leaned close to me and whispered in my ear, "It looks wonderful."
I smiled.
"That's more like it," Dad told Santa. "What else you got in there?"
Dad made Santa pull many more objects out of the sack, until our living room was full of gifts. Kayaks, TVs, Games, Toys, Jewelry--anything we could possibly want.
I stepped up to Santa now and in a shy voice, I said, "Thank you, Santa."
This caused my dad to lower the shotgun as he smiled down at me.
As soon as he did, Santa moved like a flash and disappeared before anyone could blink.
We searched the house high and low. We ran upstairs and checked every bedroom. Even the closets. Nothing. There was no sign of Santa anywhere.
So, we spent the morning going through all the stuff that the big man left behind during his escape.
It was the best Christmas ever.
As I said, this is the only time we’re going to mess with one of these generators. But we really couldn’t believe the results. It’s kinda frightening how coherent that story is. We’re also not sure how a story that starts with “Santa didn’t eat the cookies” ends up with Santa being held hostage by an angry and desperate parent.
Anyway, we hope the story entertained you. Feel free to comment about what you think of it.
As always, we will continue to publish free content, but we will also have premium content for you guys as well. If you want to take a look at the premium content, you can sign up or a 7-day trial just by clicking that subscribe button.
We will have one more post for you guys on Friday, and that is going to be all for this year. But we will be back in 2023 with a wealth of new content for you.
So, Happy Holidays all! Thanks for joining us for our first official year on this platform!!!!
STAY AWESOME!!!
It's a scary world indeed that a computer could "write" this....