How did I get a name like Horsethief? My last name is really 'Dziokonski.'  It’s pronounced Ja-coin-ski. The middle syllable (coin) means 'horse' in Polish. My brother used to tell me that our family name meant 'horse thief.'  Then a man very dear to me (who also happens to be the creator of Verse-Virtual) suggested that I use 'Horsethief' as my pen name. I’ve been 'Brian Horsethief' ever since.  

I love to create! It’s my passion. It seems like I went from drawing dinosaurs to playing the guitar in a flash. Suddenly, I was writing songs. I began converting the stories that I made up for my kids into songs. Three of my children’s songs were recognized in various contests. I also received three Honorable Mentions from the International Billboard Songwriting Contest. 

Making my kids laugh seems to have spilled over into my poetry and short stories these days. I’ve created a Zombie advice columnist named Hideous Hilda who counsels needy zombies. I’ve also created a character called Anxietyman who always seems to save the day even though he’s a nervous wreck. (Anxietyman was easy to come up with. I just based him on my own quirkiness and spiced it up a bit.) The bottom line is this: if creating is my passion then humor is its fuel.  What can I say?  I love to laugh!  I love making people laugh.   

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At the end of the therapy session, Anxietyman’s psychiatrist Dr. Shrinkstein says, “One more thing Anxietyman! Since it is the Christmas season, why don’t you volunteer as a Salvation Army Santa? I think it would be a great cognitive behavioral solution to your ongoing social anxiety problem (which happens to be one of your more severe disorders I might add.) So how about getting into the Christmas spirit by giving it a try?” The distraught Anxietyman replies, “But what if I have a panic attack? What are people going to say if I’m freaking out on some street corner dressed as Santa Claus? What if I trip over the Salvation Army money collection pot?” Dr Shrinkstein cries, “There you go again with the what ifs! What if, what if, what if! What if volunteering as a Salvation Army Santa turns out to be a positive experience for you?” Anxietyman timorously replies, “I can’t take the pressure, Dr. Shrinkstein. How am I supposed to make a big decision like this when I can’t even make a little decision. I mean this morning I couldn’t even decide if I should part my hair to the left or to the right. That’s why it’s parted in the middle. I’ll have to think about volunteering to be Santa -- I’m pretty sure I’ll be able to decide in a couple of weeks or so.” Dr. Shrinkstein quips, “Christmas will be over by then, Anxietyman!”

Three days later Dr. Shrinkstein and his son Elvin are standing in front of a New York City department store. Elvin asks, “When’s mom coming out of the store, Dad? It seems like she’s been in there forever.” Dr. Shrinkstein sighs, “Tell me about it!” Suddenly, Elvin shouts, “Hey Dad! Why is Santa Claus standing on the corner?” Dr. Shrinkstein replies, “Santa collects money for the poor during the Christmas season.” Elvin says, “I’d really like to go over and talk to him but I’m afraid.” Dr. Shrinkstein says, “It’s okay to be afraid, son, but don’t let it get the best of you. Take a couple of deep breaths and make up your mind to march right on over to Santa. I know you can do it!” Elvin mumbles under his breath, “I’m really nervous, Dad. How about if you come with me?” Dr. Shrinkstein replies, “Your mother should be out of the store soon and I promised I’d wait here for her. You go ahead without me and we can wave to each other while you’re visiting with Santa.”

After a moment of hesitation, Elvin apprehensively walks up to Santa Claus and says, “Here’s some money for the poor Santa.” As Elvin drops the money into the collection pot, Santa cries, “Thank you for your generous gift young fella -- Ho! Ho! Ho! and Merry Christmas!” Elvin swallows hard as he musters up the courage to say, “Excuse me, Santa, but did you really fly all the way down here from the North Pole in your sleigh?” Santa Claus quickly replies without thinking, “No way! I’m deathly afraid of flying -- I mean -- oops!” Elvin asks with wide-eyed anticipation, “What did you mean Santa?” Santa replies, “Well young fella, I have to admit that flying makes me very nervous. “But how did you get to New York City from the North Pole?” cries Elvin. The discombobulated Santa thinks for a moment and anxiously replies, “Well -- ah -- you see -- ah -- I had my reindeer pull my sleigh through the snow.” Elvin shouts, “Wow! It must have taken you a real long time to get here.” Santa (who feels the pressure of trying to come up with an explanation) replies, “Ho! Ho! Ho! My trusty reindeer, Rudolf, got us here in record time. I don’t know how the red-nosed rascal did it, but somehow he managed to find a shortcut through Canada.”

Elvin shrugs his shoulders and remarks, “Hey Santa! One of my friends told me that you don’t really climb down people’s chimneys to deliver presents. You do go down people’s chimneys don’t you?” Santa blurts, “Not with my claustrophobia!” Elvin asks, “Is that your wife’s name?” Santa cries, “No! no! my dear lad. Claustrophobia simply means that I get anxious and panicky when I’m in small closed-in places like chimneys. That’s why I don’t go down them.” Elvin cries, “But the milk and cookies we put out for you are right at the bottom of the chimney.” Santa explains, “I’m also lactose intolerant which means that drinking milk gives me gas. And I’m afraid to eat the cookies because the sugar in them makes me too hyper.” Elvin says with concern, “But when I woke up on Christmas morning last year all the milk and cookies were gone!” Santa (who’s flustered and beginning to panic) says shakily, “That’s because I gave the m-m-m-milk and c-c-c-cookies to my hungry reindeer.” Suddenly, Elvin says, “I got to go now, Santa. My dad’s waving for me to come back. It was nice meeting you and Merry Christmas!” 

Elvin runs over and gives his dad a big holiday hug. Dr. Shrinkstein remarks. “It appears that your talk with Santa Claus went rather well.” Elvin replies, “I do feel quite a bit better about myself.” Dr. Shrinkstein asks, “What do you mean son?” Elvin says, “I was kinda nervous and afraid to talk to Santa -- but he’s kinda nervous and afraid of everything! I mean Santa had his reindeer pull him here through the snow because he’s afraid to fly. He said he was too anxious to climb down chimneys because he has some kind of trophobia.” Dr. Shrinkstein inquires, “Some kind of what?” Elvin replies, “Some kind of trophobia! It has another word in front of it that sounds like Santa’s last name. He’s even afraid to eat the milk and cookies we leave out because the milk gives him gas and the cookies make him hyper.” 

Dr. Shrinkstein cracks a smile of acknowledgement and says, “Well it looks like Santa saved the day in his own way by giving you a very special Christmas gift.” Elvin shouts excitedly,”What’s that, Dad?” Dr. Shrinkstein replies, “It’s called confidence, son. Oh look! Here comes your mom! Be a good boy and explain everything to her. I’ll be right back!” 

Dr. Shrinkstein walks up to Santa and whispers, “Merry Christmas, Anxietyman. I’m very pleased that you took my advice. You’re a terrific looking Santa by the way.” Anxietyman nervously replies, “M-M-M-Merry Christmas, Dr. Shrinkstein. But how did you kn-kn-kn-know it was me? Dr. Shrinkstein whispers again, “Lets just say that one of your little Elvin’s told me.” Anxietyman anxiously asks, “One of my little w-w-w-what?” Dr. Shrinkstein slips some money in the collection pot and utters, “I meant to say one of your little Elves.”