Blue Bell won the Santa contest. She has her Santa suit, but refuses to wear the beard because it makes her sneeze and she looks silly. Everyone agreed that the beard didn’t matter in the least and the chicklets and guests lined up to tell her what they wanted for Chickmas.
Did you get the Reindeer Newsletter? The one that talks about the Reindeer Strike? Seems Santa started hanging around with some unsavory elves, making bad decisions. Ms. Claus was so disgusted she left, leaving everyone without cookies, hot chocolate and treats. You can imagine how well that went over. She said she was tired of baking and taking care of Santa (his real name is Bob, by the way). She grew weary of keeping his red suit in shape and making sure he checked the naughty and nice lists, which she sometimes changed, after doing a bit of research. Santa had gotten lazy and just followed the list, never looking for errors, which meant that sometimes the wrong kids did, or did not. receive gifts.
She told him she was leaving, but he didn’t believe her. Well, he did, once he realized she was gone. She let the reindeer know where she was going, in case they needed her, but they remained silent when asked where she was. That’s when they decided to go on strike. They didn’t want shorter hours, since they only worked one night a year, and their food was great, as were their accommodations. It’s just that Santa had stopped spending time with them. He no longer came to the barn for chats. He didn’t brush them or tell them they were beautiful. He left that up to others. He was neglecting them in too ways that mattered.
The worker elves tried to talk to him but he struck a pose and let his attitude show. His smoking and drinking had become the norm. He no longer checked the toys and his smelly, smoke filled, jacket and hat, made Dancer sneeze and rub his nose against the sides of his spacious stall.
When the reindeer told Santa they wouldn’t pull the sleigh, unless he cleaned up his act, he told them he would just skip Christmas this year. He said he would find new reindeer for next year. The reindeer and elves were shocked. And just where did he think he would find more flying reindeer?
Prancer called Ms. Claus and told her what Santa said. She didn’t seem surprised. They talked for a long time and came up with a plan. Prancer talked to the others and they agreed that it was an excellent plan, so they left the barn and took to the sky.
This year, the reindeer will be pulling a new vehicle, driven by Ms. Claus. The lists will be correct and the bullies won’t even get coal. Everything in life changes…even Santa.
Photo: hue 12 Photography
Unsplash
The chicklets are getting old Chickmas pictures out to get the ball rolling on Chickmas. They don’t like thanksgiving, or November. They celebrate turkeys, of course, but they know how many birds are slaughtered so that people can eat them. That’s why they usually jump right to Chickmas. So the Halloween guests have left, except for a few stragglers, and Chickmas music can be heard now and then, as the chicklets get together with their committees to plan for the next big event.
The once shinny mall had been closed for decades. People, as well as other things, had long ago set up house inside the decaying shops and restaurants.
But at Christmas time, people worked to clean up the place and make it look a bit more presentable. After all, everyone knows that Christmas is the most wonderful time of the year. Besides, there were still a few children left in the surrounding area. Presents, and I use the word loosely, were made or scavenged, and a chair was set up in the parking garage. Someone painted reindeer on the walls.
Food, such as it was, was laid out on old newspapers and the Christmas countdown began.
The earth had been ravaged by one environmental disaster after another. Insane leadership had made sure of that. So people did the best they could with what they had, which wasn’t much, believe me. They really had no one to blame but themselves, but it was Christmas and blame didn’t do anyone any good.
The volunteer Santa didn’t have the kind of lap anyone would want to sit on, so the children just stood in front of him and told him what they wanted. Clean air, was at the top of almost all of their lists, followed by water. They all wanted to see the sun and they wanted to have better things to eat. They wanted to be able to go out more often and not be poisoned by radiation and they wanted cookies. They wanted everyone to stop coughing and dying and they wanted to live long enough to grow up.
Santa, listened to each request, and tried not to cough until he fell over. He told the children that he wished he could give them each one of the things they asked for but he didn’t know how. He said that he was sorry. Sorry for a lot of things. But he told them that the one thing he could do, was tell them stories. So, the children gathered around Santa’s chair and listened to tales of dogs and cats, beaches and baseball. He old them about books and salad bars, of bottles of pop and water. He told them about birds. He talked about families and doctors, contact lenses, and cars. He told them about a lot of things and then he told the children to dream those things back into reality, if they could. He told them to be better than past generations, more caring and thoughtful. He told them to be kind. He told them what went wrong. He told them it might be too late. He told them to love each other while they still could. Then he smiled and sang Jingle Bells at the top of his damaged lungs. The children joined in, and those who could, danced around, clapping and pounding their feet.
When the small fire burned down, and darkness started eating the light, the party ended, and everyone went back to wherever they were hiding. Another Christmas was over.
It’s kind of strange to see kids get excited to get gifts from a weird guy in a red suit with a matching hat. The above Santa is lacking a bit, when it comes to a bowl full of jelly. If one looks at his levi’s and cowboy boots, one could only think that he actually rode a reindeer to this house. I don’t think Santa had a pony tail either. Still, the baby is hysterically happy and that’s what christmas is all about, right? Personally, I hope he gives the baby the bear he has in his pocket. I mean, it’s the right thing to do. He’s a baby in a diaper, he should have a bear.
Hey, I’m just sayin’.
This is Max. He’s building up his strength on his way to the tryouts, for Santa’s second team. The second team of reindeer exist, in case one of the original reindeer comes down with a cold, or an injury. It’s never happened but Santa thinks it better to be safe than sorry.
The second team shows up around the first of December. They are wild reindeer and come from all over. When they reach the North Pole, they stay in the barn behind Sant’s house and, happily, Ms Claus feeds them cookies everyday. She bakes a lot. You would too, if you lived there.
Meanwhile, the elves are working hard on the sleigh, adding a new GPS system and an insulated cup holder for Santa’s hot chocolate. Everything is being polished and inspected for damage, after last year’s trip.
During the day the new reindeer will practice flying and pulling a sleigh. The Original Team will give them pointers and critique their performance. It’s all done with goodwill and joy.
The elves don’t make as many wooden toys as they used to. Several of them took electronic classes, so they could build the things today’s children want. Once they blew a fuse and the entire North Pole went dark. The elves fixed everything quickly, but they are still laughing about it.
FYI…reindeer love sugar cubes and while they aren’t good for them, please leave a few next to their carrots. I mean it is christmas, after all.
“I don’t like kids,” said the jolly fat man, dressed in the red suit. “They’re always sticky and they look at me as if I can make all their dreams come true.”
“Well, can’t you?” asked his wife, her foot on his stomach, trying to buckle his belt. “You’ve gained a few more pounds.”
“It’s all those cookies everyone puts out for me, not to mention the ones you make for the elves and the reindeer.”
“No one is making you EAT ALL OF THEM,” she said, pushing harder. “Breath in, will you.”
He took a deep breath and she managed to get the belt bucked on the last hole. “If you let go of your breath, the belt might break,” she snickered.
“Not funny. Not funny at all.”
“I’ve been thinking,” she said. “We need to talk.”
“Well, that can’t be good,” he grumbled, looking for his other boot.
“It’s under the chair,” she said, pointing at it.
“Just tell me what you have to say and get it over with.”
“I met someone.”
“How could you possibly have met someone? There isn’t a single person who lives where we do, unless it’s an elf. That was one of the reasons I took this job.”
“We met on line.”
“So, you never actually met him?”
“I have met him. Several times. Dancer took me.”
“DANCER?”
“She felt sorry for me. Locked away in this frozen NOWHERE!”
“Why didn’t you say something?”
“I have said little ELSE for years. Anyway, I won’t be here when you get back from your Christmas run. I’m packed and ready to go. And there’s nothing you can do to stop me. It’s far to late for that.”
“But…”
“Find someone else to get you into the suit. I’ll keep in touch with the reindeer. Be sure you pet them and get someone to sing to them. Give them cookies as well.”
“But…”
“I’m finally going to be happy,” she said, turning in a circle.
“I thought you were happy with me,” he stammered.
“Exactly. You never once noticed how terribly unhappy I’ve been. Now I’ll be able to see other people, go into stores. I’ll even be able to buy bread, go to the theater and spend time in bookstores. And I’ll never wear red again.”
He sat down and put his face in his hands. “I’m sorry.”
“Not as sorry as I am, that I stayed this long.”
“What about the elves?”
“They’ve known for months.”
“Where will you go?”
“Anywhere there’s sun and Brad.”
“That’s his name?”
“It is. And he can buckle his own belt,” she said cheerfully. “I might learn how to surf.”
“I won’t make it without you,” he said, softly.
“Sure you will. Just hire someone to clean up and do your bidding. That way, you won’t even know I’m gone.” And with that, she left the room, humming a Beach Boys song and doing a few dance steps.
Life’s like that. Sometimes even Santa doesn’t have a Merry Christmas.
So, do you think Santa delivers toys to kids whose parents teach them to hate others and kill them? Do you think he drops off nice white sheets, or brown shirts covered with nazi symbols, in small sizes, so the kids can dress like their parents? Does he bring more guns to those who want to shoot the people they don’t think deserve to live, or does he bring coal to all of them instead? Should kids who have been taught to hate by those who surround them, be on the naughty list?
What list are the people they hate on? What list are those who have been harmed, tortured or murdered by the people who hate…on?
I think Santa should skip the houses, where the haters live. But if he does, they’ll probably hate him and start killing the reindeer. I mean, if it’s so easy to hate and destroy, it must be easy to hate Santa too.
Santa doesn’t seem like the kind of guy to give presents to kids who do bad things. I mean, that’s WHY there’s a naught list in the first place, right?
So in the spirit of the season, I’m just going to say that I hope everyone gets exactly what they give out and exactly what they deserve.
Merry, merry.
“Hey, Santa.”
“Go away. I’m busy.”
“Busy doing what?”
“Making toys for good girls and boys,” he said, stirring his hot chocolate.
“Are there any?”
“Any what?” asked Santa, turning to look at the elf, who was dressed in green velvet.
“Any good girls and boys? We were talking about that in the toy room and we think all the good girls and boys are gone. Now there are just children who want things but don’t care about them two minutes later. Kids who just want cash, not toys or presents. We don’t think what we do matters anymore. There are no surprises left and no one is excited, or appreciates our work.”
“Saying that all the good girls and boys are gone is a sweeping generalization but I know what you mean and I understand how you feel. Christmas used to be something special,” he said, staring out the frosty window. “No one knew what was going to be under the tree. Children were so happy with whatever they found there. In those days children did’t get everything they wanted every single day. They had to wait for me to bring them toys and gifts. Nowadays, everyone gets what they want immediately and they don’t even have to leave their house.”
“Amazon is the new Santa,” sighed the Elf.
“They deliver every day of the year. I can’t compete with that,” said Santa, shaking his head. “I fear that we have become obsolete, my friend. Immediate gratification and quick deliveries have replaced us.”
“What will we do, Santa?”
“Care for the reindeer and eat cookies, I suppose. Become icons, symbols of what once was, memories of things past and lost.”
“Shall I tell the others?” asked the elf miserably.
“No, Sandy, wait until after Christmas, no need to break their hearts before then.”
Written
on December 7, 2019