by Bob'n Around
How Santa and his elves hooked up.
|First place win for January's "The Prompt Me Contest"
“But Santa, sweetie. They have nowhere else to go.”
Missus Claus knew she hadn’t won over Kris Krinkle, yet. Living in a sleigh since getting outed for not paying rent had them both living at their wits end. All they had money for was a wasteland property at the North Pole, of all places.
“They’d be willing to help us,” she promised, one fingertip playing with the curls of her husband’s beard.
“I didn’t even know they exist. Where did you find them?” Santa whispered into a kiss. He never could resist this woman. Somehow, whatever she wanted had a way of working out. Santa was a firm believer in women’s intuition.
“I didn’t. They found me when I went searching for places to live. There aren’t’ that many elf descendents of Middle Earth left. These had to abandon the tunnel they were in, when it caved in. Construction zone. You know that new high rise? Gentrification is making it so poor creatures have no place left.” Missus Claus had run out of words.
Santa hadn’t. She let him bluster, make excuses and make what she knew to be idle threats. It was a relief to see the old softy required proof before giving in. “Here they come now.”
More than Santa’s beard was white. A snowstorm blurred the village square. Dragging his sleigh here had been hard work. The help being offered weakened his resolve. “You say they are willing to pull their share?”
“They’ve taken care of that. See? When I told them of our plight, they went out and lassoed reindeer before they took flight.” Missus Claus stood up in the sleigh and waved
“Flying reindeer? This I must see.” Some of Santa’s beta versions of his latest toy creations tumbled with him from his sleigh.
“My goodness, It is getting slippery. You’re getting wet. You will catch a cold. Go ahead. I’ll pick things up.” Missus Claus wished she had a bag big enough to hold them all. It was something she’d have to work on.
“Ho, ho, ho!” Chuckled Santa in amazement as the elves came into view. Each one rode a flying reindeer. They urged them on with sweet smelling tasty Christmas wreaths dangling in front of their noses. Whatever they were made of, just a nibble made the reindeer float off the ground. Whatever way the elves pointed, the reindeer were happy to go.
“Land ‘em in two rows. I’ll get the halters and we’ll be off quick as Saint Nick. That was one of Santa’s brothers, away on a task of his own. All the men in the family had a knack for getting projects done unusually fast.
Missus Claus fit herself along with the toys back in the sleigh. She felt a little magic in the sparkle shining in Santa’s eyes. The elves worked well together with him. They were a joy to watch. It harbored well for joining lives together in this unusual band. An itinerant toy maker, lost band of elves, wild reindeer, and a wife with the gift of knowing how prayers were asked and answered. “It’s a miracle.”
And so it was. One that reoccurs every year, when Santa keeps the tradition of taking his sleigh on a round-the-world trip with flying reindeer. His beta toys proved themselves. They remade copies as soon as it was wished, with new features, shapes and sizes built in.
The secret of Santa’s location is well kept by his elves, who have all they can do to manage the toys, the reindeer and the growing number of their merry band, in Santa’s happy expanding underground homestead.
Missus Claus job is keeping count (by women's intuition) of which children have been good or bad. Somehow, once again, things worked out better than anyone could have planned, for the reindeer, elves, Santa and Missus Claus, and the kids of the world.