Cáigase de la Tablet

In a lovely neighborhood of humble people,

of little houses, families tight as equals,

there stood a white façade with a yellow door~

home to a little girl named María, for sure.

In the middle of a long-lasting pandemic,

from a virus that had the whole world worn and frantic~

María and her mother placed milk and some treats,

on a small table beneath the decorated eaves.

And both went early to bed that same night

to warm themselves under one blanket held tight~

so Santa could come and do what he must,

fulfilling his duty, as God would entrust.

They slept very deeply,

from fullness and delight~

chocolate, tamales, and cookies

that hug you just right.

And right at midnight, a soft noise is heard,

and quietly, without a whisper or word, María stirs~

on tiptoes she runs to the living room floor,

knowing this was her chance to meet Santa for sure.

She hides in the shadows,

right behind a chair.

But what a great heartbreak!

What she sees there—

her father, so drunk,

so wasted, so starved~

ends up devouring all

that for Santa was carved.

Innocent María does not make a sound,

she knows her father and how he comes around~

she stays quiet, afraid of his scold,

keeping her silence, timid and controlled.

Stumbling around, playing out his role~

he went to his wife and chaos took hold.

—“Where is María?”— her mother cried—

—“Where is the girl?”—

Run, María, get back in your bed~

pretend you're asleep, don’t be seen instead.

Her father walked into her little room~

and saw his daughter in silent gloom.

He kissed her forehead and, wasting no breath,

right then and there~

he went to his woman, burning with depth.

María is not foolish—something feels wrong~

she gets out of bed and moves along.

It’s almost the hour, Santa must arrive~

better serve milk and keep hope alive.

The girl goes back quietly into her space,

doing her best not to sleep in that place~

watching and waiting, María stayed still…

… and silence fell …

until another sound filled.

The little girl ran to that same hidden side,

and among the shadows she stayed there to hide~

to her surprise, Santa did not show,

but a thief had entered, moving low.

The drunken father forgot the door~

and that shameless man saw something more.

Standing in silence, observing the room,

looking for value in shadow and gloom~

milk and cookies!

just right on the spot~

he said: “Oh my God, thank you a lot!

Come here, little one.”

The girl, confused, said firmly no~

that all of it was for Santa, you know.

“Calm down, little girl, don’t scream or shout~

we’ll keep Santa’s business running throughout.

Go back to your room and try to sleep~

if you hear something, don’t make a peep.

I’ll help Santa down from his sleigh tonight~

all of his gifts… I’ll set them right.”

“My girl.”

María stared at him carefully,

doubting just briefly~

but her illusion belonged elsewhere, softly.

Street thieves don’t know much of rhyme or dream~

their minds barely work past smoke and scheme.

The girl nodded and told the man:

“Don’t forget my gift, you understand.

It’s the same tablet Tomás has got,

my neighbor—

the one with Roblox, Minecraft, Among Us a lot.”

“Got it, little girl, now go to bed~

I’ll tell Santa what needs to be said.”

“Do you promise?”

“Yeah.”

The girl, content, went back to lie,

fell asleep believing the world was right~

that things made sense, that all was fair,

without questioning who or where.

…

The next morning, with sunlight bright,

the joyful girl ran in delight~

only to find beneath the tree

a quiet, heavy emptiness waiting to be.

For the first time,

something felt off~

she thought: “That guy…

played me soft.”

Worried, she went to her mother near,

to talk about Santa and his “helper” dear~

who forgot her gift and left instead

only glue beneath the tree she had.

Her mother, alarmed, woke up her man:

“Go check the house—

don’t fake a nap.”

No speakers left, no TV screen~

no phones, no computer to be seen~

not even the modem or signal repeater,

everything gone—cleaner than cleaner.

They took it all without a trace~

mom might lose her job from that place.

And María understood…

but not the whole~

this time Santa left quite full,

with things to pawn,

to feed his role.

But the girl kept her hope inside~

her spirit did not break or slide.

She heard that Santa, during those days~

left a Barbie in quiet exchange…

for everything those rats had taken away.

And sweet María chose to believe~

her mother could not make her grieve.

Two months later, by chance or fate,

the thief sat outside, watching, waiting late~

looking up at the little girl’s light,

waiting to show her the tablet that night.

He tapped on the window, made a call:

“Come get your gift—

it’s down below.”

The girl sneaked out of her home so fast,

to grab the tablet at last.

But as she picked it, she loudly said:

“How do I unlock this instead?”

“Don’t make noise, just shut it tight~

press the button and draw a Z right.”

The girl, delighted, ran back to bed,

checked the toy and something she read:

it even had Tomás’s name engraved~

they took the request seriously—behaved.

Such serious people—who would believe?

And all that night, the girl just played

offline games that quietly stayed.

Santa is not a jester from the sky~

just a sad old story we’re sold to buy.

Santa and business—how they’ve changed~

now he runs with vice, his ways deranged~

if you’re a good kid, you’ll ride the wave,

not like the fools of the Three Kings they gave.