So when Santa finally agreed to roll up his sleeves—and, in one case, significantly more than that—to explain the ink, it wasn’t a flex. It was a reckoning. Love, loss, vengeance, and at least one inter-holiday beef that absolutely never made it into the carols. Here, in his own hoarse, cocoa-stained words, Santa gives the 411 on the tattoos he can’t outlive—and wouldn’t laser off even if he could.