Why would you want to shoot Santa?

Isaac and Brenda went shopping this afternoon while Rosalie and I drank a ton of beer, gambled and watched "Scarface" 4 times. OK, Rosalie did those things while I cowered in the corner. Anyway, while out and about, Isaac became the proud recipient of a "pirate kit" which included a pistol, an eye-patch, three gold coins and a compass. So naturally, when he returned home, he wanted to play pirate, and I obliged.

So, our "ship" was his bed and we split the props equally between us. I had the gun and the coins while he sported the eye-patch and the compass. He informed that his name was "Captain" and my name was "Cuba." Not sure where he came up with this name for me, but for once, it actually was quite appropriate. Anyway, we set out on the high seas (or carpet, as it were) looking for treasure. Again, this seemed kind of strange considering I was in possession of three gold coins. How greedy were pirates in real life? Out of nowhere, the story took a strange turn: Isaac quickly consulted his compass and then the following exchange took place:

Isaac: Argh! We're going to Santa's house.
Me: Huh?
Isaac: The North Pole.
Me: Wait. What?
Isaac: (pointing to his compass with the arrow pointing directly over the big, red "N") There. The North Pole. We're gonna find Santa.

A minute or two went by before Isaac stood up and yelled "There he is!!" (gun noise) "I got him!" I asked him who he "got," but I already knew the answer. Isaac informed me that Santa was dead. I could only think that it is a good thing that Walter Cronkite is deceased or he would have cried while delivering this shocking news to the world and that Christmas would be ruined forever.