Skipping Christmas

         “Should I even ask?”

         “You could. You won’t like the answer.”

         “Well, that’s a given.”

         “You’re not going to tell, are you? I mean, that would just be distasteful.”

         “Tell? That’s what you’re worried about? The whole blasted Pole is out there waiting. Any minute the entire cavalry will be recruited for the search effort.”

         “We don’t have a cavalry.”

         “Thanks, ma’am, really. It was an expression, a hyperbolic exaggerance on my part. Forgive me.”

         “Yes, I know. Don’t look at me like that. I have my reasons for this, you know.”

         “Well, that’s a relief.”

         “It’s just . . . How should I put it? I didn’t really get the eternal aspect of this position, you know?”

         “You mean that you did not, in fact, fully comprehend the contractually binding agreement that you and your husband made to safeguard the righteous and gravely serious traditions of our ancestors for the rest of time?”

         “Oh save it, pointy ears. We throw toys down chimneys. This is a factory for the whims of snotty children, not the temple of the holy grail.”

         “Fine, whatever. So what are you saying? This latest . . . occurrence is just another manifestation of your growing unhappiness?”

         “Something like that.”

         “Did you hear that?”

         “What? The overly joyous and ridiculous jingle bell alarm? Yeah, the inside of my cranium is still ringing.”

         “He’s over three hours late. The reindeers can’t be happy. What did you do to him, anyway? Tie him up?”

         “Nothing that barbaric, I assure you. I drugged him.”

         “My, that’s comforting.”

         “Oh, give it a rest. You’re supposed to be on my side anyway.”

         “No, I’m not. Wherever did you get that idea? I’m on Santa’s side.”

         “Yeah, but . . . I don’t know. Aren’t I sort of in charge by extension? Like royalty by marriage?”

         “Hey, if this relationship goes south I want to be on the winning side. And sorry, lady, but the odds don’t look to merry for you.”

         “What do you mean? Our relationship is fine!”

         “Okay, first of all, you drugged him. Not good. Secondly, you’ve only been together like – what? Half a century?”

         “Sixty-one years, thank you very much!”

         “Yeah, and the old man’s pushing on three centuries, give or take a few decades. You didn’t think you were the first Mrs. Claus, did you?”

         “Well, I dunno . . . I guess it never really occurred to me.”

         “We were all doing fine before you came along, and I can assure you we’d all be fine without. What’d you expect anyway? You’re purposefully sabotaging Christmas by drugging and hiding Santa! Did you expect a thank you?”

         “No, nothing like that. I just thought we could kind of take a break for awhile, you know? Maybe take a few years off. Go somewhere tropical! Ahh what I’d do to get away from snow!”

         “And you thought we’d all be okay with that?”

         “Whose we?”

         “Santa, the elves, the reindeer – who you’re right, incidentally, don’t like you at all.”

         “Oh come on! What’s the worse you guys could do? Bake me a burnt sugar cookie? Attack me with snowflakes? Sing out of key?”

         “Well, there was grandma and that reindeer . . . “

         “You’re not seriously referencing that terrible song, are you? I thought Prancer petitioned to have it removed from the Holiday Song Canon.”

         “That doesn’t speak at all to its actual validity. If anything, maybe Prancer had some covering up to do.”

         “Oh please be serious! I didn’t mean to disrupt or anger anyone! I just wanted to, you know, send a message.”

         “Message received – by the entire world. You do realize you are completely responsible for every child who wakes up crying tomorrow morning because Santa never delivered their gifts?”

         “It’s a good bracing lesson for children to learn. Life isn’t fair. I put in good time in the entirely thankless role as Santa’s cookie baking wife. I deserve a holiday!

         “HO HO HOOOO! What time is it? Oh NOOOOOOO!”

         “I think the drugs are wearing off . . . “

         “You think? He’s going to be mad at me, isn’t he?”

         “I’d say that’s a definite yes. Do you have a plan?”

         “A plan? I don’t know . . . I kinda just thought we’d skip this Christmas and people would understand. Then we’d jet off for a timeshare in Maui or something and be back in a few years.”

         “Not big on planning are you?”

         “Nope, not at all.”

         “WOULD SOMEONE FIND ME MY BLASTED BOOTS?!  I’M LATEEEEEE!”

         “He doesn’t really sound in the Hawaiian spirit, if you ask me.”

         “You’re not helping.”

         “I’m not trying to.”

         “You’re an annoying little elfin brat, you know that? I tried to reasonably explain to you my position, but all I get is your stupid snarky com – Oh darling! You’re awake! Thank Christmas!”

         “Mrs. Claus, my dear, a most terrible, terrible thing has happened!!!”

         “A terrible, terrible thing? Whatever could you be talking about?”

         “Christmas is ruined! I set my alarm clock, but somehow I slept right through it!”

         “Well that’s unfortunate, indeed!”

         “Indeed, it is!”

         “Can I be of some assistance, Santa Claus, sir?”

         “I would welcome it gladly, my dear elf! I am in a most unhappy state of distress on this most glorious of nights!”

         “The name’s Paul, sir, of the Stuffed Animal Brigade – Larger Mammal Division. There’s been quiet a commotion, sir! You see, we couldn’t find you, being that you . . . somehow managed to fall asleep up here in this abandoned attic. It’s all been quiet the mystery.”

         “Well, my, it certainly is! I don’t recall coming here at all. What an odd place for a nap. Do you know anything about this, Mrs. Claus?”

         “Little old me? Of course not! I’ve been simply grief-stricken with worry!”

         “Well, anyway, sir, I have the reindeer standing by. They’re ready to start the nights deliveries. By my amateur calculations, I did minor in Temporal Cross-Geographical Delivery at the Christmas Elf University, if we cut out the Southern Hemisphere from your route no one else will be effected. It’s a shame, but at least by sacrificing a few we can still make Christmas possible for some.”

         “What a shame, what a shame, but I do see your logic, young master Paul. Call in Rudolph. Have him pick me up immediately. There’s still enough night for us to spread Christmas cheer!”

         “Rudolph? Hello? It’s Paul the Elf! Santa’s here, ready for pick- up! Hello? Rudolph?”

         “Is there a problem? Why is he not answering?”

         “I don’t know. Let me try again.”

         “Look, Santa baby, I was thinking, with everything going wrong and all, maybe we should take a vacation. You know, see the world! It does all get a tad tedious after awhile, doesn’t it? Children, elves, gifts – whewww, get’s a bit much, right? How about we just skip a few Christmases?”

         “SKIP A FEW CHRISTMASES?!?! Are you mad? Mrs. Claus, we are Christmas! There is no ‘skipping’ who we are!”

         “Oh yeah, of course. Forget I mentioned it . . . “

         “Come in, Rudolph, come in! Santa Claus ready and waiting!”

         “Base Camp, this is the R-man, the big shiny, the one and only Rudolph. How may I help ye all?”

         “Here, Paul, let me take it. Rudolph! This is Santa! Where are you?”

         “Currently in Jamaica, mon – see what I did there? Ahaha I crack myself up! I’m all illuminating stuff. There’s clouds here, but I’m like ‘hey clouds, look at my nose! It’s bright, right? Move asideeee!”

         “Rudolph, what in gingerbread’s name are you talking about? I overslept, but we need to get a move on it! Are the boys harnessed up? Haste is needed!”

         “Big boss, chill out! It’s all good, as my Jamaican brethren having been teaching me. We left the Pole a couple hours ago, and are on track for the nights’ deliveries. My nose be doing it again! Yeah, I see you glaring at me Blitzen, don’t think I don’t. Yeah, not so smug about leaving me out of your little game of Monopoly, are you now?”

         “How can that be possible, Rudolph?! You forgot me at the North Pole!”

         “Oh I see the conundrum, boss. See, we couldn’t find you, even with my nose, right? But some dude with big ears came by and said he wouldn’t mind substituting in, so . . . yeah, it’s all good. You okay though, boss?”

         “Yeah, sure I’m okay. Uh just a little confused. Did you know anything about this? Paul? Mrs. Claus?”

         “No, nobody told me, sir!”

         “We could have had substitutes all these years? That’s allowed? Are their substitutes for Mrs. Claus? You know, like substitute cookie bakers? Why was I not told about this? This changes everything!”

         “Boss, I’ll hand you over to the furry guy in your sled. I need a break from all this talking. I need full concentration for being this awesome and magnific - I SAW THAT! No one kicks me or I turn off my nose!!”

         “Okay, thanks Rudolph . . . “

         “Santa, sir, who would have taken over for you?

         “I don’t know, Paul, I don’t know.”

         “Calling Santa, this is the Big Ears! Can you hear me Santa?”

         “Yes, who is this?”

         “It’s me! The Easter Bunny! What a gig, right? I know, I know, it’s just for one night, but holy rabbit fields of hares! These kids leave you cookies!! I’m lucky if I get a moldy carrot on my sweep!”

         “Easter Bunny! Wow, thanks for saving the day! I owe you one, buddy!”

         “Naw, don’t mention it. See you in a few hours, Santa! This is the Big Ears, over and out!”

         “Whew, glad that’s settled! So, darling, what say we take that vacation I was talking about earlier. Looks like the Easter Bunny would love to take over anytime.”

         “Paul?”

         “Yes, Santa, sir?”

         “Can I ask you a question?”

         “Of course, sir!”

         “Did my wife drug me and drag me to this attic?”

         “That would be correct, sir!”

         “What?! I would NEVER do such a thing!”

         “Can you do me a favor, Paul?”

         “Anything, Santa!”

         “Draw me up some divorce papers, will you?”

         “WHATTTT?!?!”

         “You got it, Santa!”

         



Word Count: 1705