After Christmas Blues
by Margaret Fieland
Mrs. Claus is up in arms. Even with a full day to deliver the presents, Santa didn’t finish until 2PM on Christmas Day, and he’s so exhausted he’s in bed for a week.
“It’s outrageous,” Donner snorts when Mrs Claus asks for help. “We need a new plan.”
“Oh, it’s not so bad,” Rudolph murmurs. “After all, it’s only once a year.” His nose flashes a couple of times.
Donner tosses his antlers. “Just wait until you’re my age, youngster. That sleigh gets heavier every year, and every year when I get back I’m too stiff to fly again for at least a month.”
“Well, what do you suggest,” Vixen pipes up. “We’re already limiting our deliveries to good children between five and ten who celebrate Christmas.” She tosses her antlers and smiles.
“Yes,” Blixen adds, “and we’ve got a stack of complaints from the parents of the under-fives.”
“There’s that new North Pole Federal Express office,” Prancer offers, shifting from hoof to hoof. “We could offload the excess, just leave enough so Santa doesn’t feel useless.” The reindeer all nod.
And that, boys and girls, is why most Christmas gifts come in the mail.