Santa's Vacation

“Hello, Santa,” the deep voice boomed. “Martha, how’ve you been?” It was Cletus, who came out to fetch their bags out of the Magic Cadillac. The ride was so much smoother than the sleigh; plus the reindeer were in more need of a rest this year than ever before. The people blamed the wicked winter weather on global warming. Santa didn’t know if this was true. It was just as cold at the South Pole as he remembered it in years past when they visited Mrs. Claus’ relatives after Christmas. The North Pole was plenty cold, too, but nothing like this place. He figured it had something to do with the fact that his in-laws, Beatrice and Jethro Grinchelbacher ran the place. He thought the cold generated from the couple themselves. He thanked his lucky stars every day that his Mrs. Had been sent off to school and she’s dropped her cold, snotty tendencies. Santa followed Cletus and Mrs. Claus to the house. The door almost slammed in his face. He reopened it himself and entered, cautious that Damien and Death would attack at any time. The Doberman pair didn’t care for him any more than his in-laws did.

Cletus brought their bags up to the attic room, where they always stayed when they vacationed there. When Cletus left, Santa cracked open the window.

“They must keep this place at least sixty degrees, Mrs. C,” Santa scoffed. “Who needs it that hot in the house?”

“Oh, Santa,” Mrs. Clause smiled as she unpacked their bags. “You know my mother’s rheumatism is acting up again. She needs it a little warmer.”

Santa flicked on the TV, his one and only salvation for the duration of their stay. “Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho,” he exclaimed, his belly shaking. “Can you believe this? People think we vacation at some beach in Hawaii! I just saw it on a commercial. Ho, ho, ho, ho, ho!”

“Well, Santa, I guess the people just normally prefer warmer weather. The cold suits us just fine. But, I guess they don’t care for it much.”

“That’s ridiculous!” his voice boomed, louder than even he had expected. He made an effort to lower his tone, “Why would anyone want hot weather? It if weren’t for that magical suit you got me, I couldn’t even stand to deliver presents around the equator!”

A knock came at the door. “Dinner is in fifteen minutes.” It was Cletus. All of Mrs. Claus’ family was very tall, each over seven foot. Their features were very angular. They reminded Santa of the toys in his shop made of metal or wood. There was no softness to them. They were not at all like the dolls his elves made to resemble people.

“Tell the huge people I’m sick,” Santa moaned, stretching out on the bed. He always called them the huge people. Mrs. Claus didn’t mind. She knew her family could be hard to swallow at times.

“Oh, Santa, please. Let’s have a good vacation this year.”

“A good vacation?” Santa’s eyes widened. “With your beanpole family? How many fat jokes must I endure, Dear? You know your father hates me. Your mother cries every year when we come because we are not giving her grandchildren. She doesn’t understand that all the children of the world are ours. Your family just doesn’t understand, Dear.”

“Please?” Mrs. Santa begged, her brown eyes as soft as melted chocolate.

Santa got up from the feather bed, “Yes, Dear. I’ll do my best. I’ll try to get along with all of them. But, let’s make it a short night, shall we?”

“Of course,” Mrs. Santa’s face lit up. “I knew you would do it, Santa! Every year I worry that you’ll give up on my family, but I know they’re good people. To show I’m a sport, we’ll leave the day after tomorrow, okay? I’ll make up some excuse for us to leave early… some emergency.”

“Merry Christmas, My Love,” Santa wrapped his arms around his bride and kissed her. For her, he would endure anything the world had to throw at him, including his in-laws.

“Merry Christmas, Santa.”

Word Count: 690