Written by Phil Colvin,
Prologue
24th December 1997
London, England
Elizabeth was hiding behind the tree. It was late, really late, her parents were asleep. But Elizabeth couldn’t sleep, not tonight. Tonight she was finally going to see him, Santa Clause. It was a promise she seemed to make herself every year, and every year she failed, But this time was different. She sat behind the tree, watching the moonlight reflect of the fairies in the branches. Elizabeth was twelve seven years old, but her parents had never had the heart to tell her that Santa Claus didn’t really exist (it had taken her two years to get over the shock about the Easter Bunny.) The clock above the mantelpiece began to toll silently, in the distance she could hear church bells. It was two o’ clock, and still nothing happened. Elizabeth was tired in fact she was almost asleep, then suddenly she heard it.
It was a silent noise at first, but getting louder very quickly. On the roof above her,. she could definitely hear it. The sound of ‘clip clopping’ with something large being pulled behind it. Either there were some very ambitious burglars in the street, or Santa’s sleigh was on the roof. Quickly Elizabeth sprang into action, she ducked behind the tree and lay waiting. She could hear that the sleigh had stopped, and there were heavy footsteps trudging in the snow. (Well, what little snow fell in London anyway). He was approaching the chimney. Elizabeth found a small gap to peer through. Then came the descent.
The term ‘trying to get blood out of a stone’ was quite appropriate to the horrible scraping sound that came from the chimney as the figure attempted to get down it. Suddenly there was a smash of falling soot followed by a huge THUMP. Suddenly everything was silent for a few seconds. Then came the voice,
"Ouch! That frickin hurt!".
Elizabeth watched through the tree. The man looked like Santa., he had the customary red clothes on. But that voice was not what she expected, it sounded American. However, any thoughts that this was not Santa were soon dispelled when she saw the size of him. Yes, Santa was huge. She watched him like a spy, observing his mannerisms. She watched him stand up and look around the room. She quickly ducked out of sight.
"Where is it?", he said. He was looking fro something. Elizabeth kept as low as she could. She hoped he wouldn’t see her. "Ah hah!", said Santa in triumph. But he wasn’t looking down at her, she looked up and saw him standing over the bottle of brandy left by her parents with the label ‘For Santa Claus’ attached. "Don’t mind if I do", he sighed and he began to swig heavily from the bottle.
It was then that Elizabeth slipped on something. Santa spun round.
"Who’s there?", he shouted, "I’m armed!"
"What?", said Elizabeth coming round from behind the tree.
"Sorry", he said, calming down, "Force of habit"
"Santa carries a gun?"
"Well, not tonight, obviously. Only when I’m doing drug busts". There was a moment of silence. "I’ll tell you about it when you’re older."
"I’ve never seen you before", smiled Elizabeth, "I’ve always waited for you!"
"Really?", sighed Santa, "How nice."
"You’re fatter then I thought you would be. Maybe you should cut down on the mince pies."
"Watch it, kid!" Santa wasn’t exactly how Elizabeth had hypothesised. There was something really odd about him, but she couldn’t quite put her finger on it...and then she saw it.
"Why are you wearing a fake beard?"
"Ummm.....Mrs. Santa put my other one in the wash, or something". Elizabeth giggled.
"You’re really funny!"
"I’ll do my whole routine some other time. Right now I’m in a real hurry."
"How many other children do you have to visit?"
"About three billion", sighed Santa in a tone of resentment.
"Don’t you like doing it, then?"
"Oh yeah, I love it! But this is my first time.."
"What happened to the old Santa?"
"Umm...he retired. Three billion chimneys really mess up your lungs."
"Oh."
"Look, kid. Can you just let me dump these presents and I’ll be on my merry way."
Elizabeth helped Santa pull several large packages from his sack. He turned back to the chimney. He looked at it for a second and then at Elizabeth.
"Hey, kid, any chance of using your front door?"
Elizabeth led him down the hall to the front door. He walked out slowly trudging down the path. Behind him he heard Elizabeth’s happy voice.
"Goodbye, Santa. And Merry Christmas!"
"Yeah, and a Merry firkin’ Christmas to you, too"
If you have any comments, you can email Phil Colvin at sculder_mully@geocities.com.
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