Santa's Sabbatical

Santa’s Sabbatical
8-11-12

Santa decided to go on sabbatical and left his stepdaughter in charge. That’s me, Sarah.

I thought it would be easy, I mean, the elves make all the toys, clean and maintain the sleigh and bath and feed the reindeer and scoop out their poop. All pops does is eat cookies and milk all year round to keep in shape. Occasionally I see him writing something down on scraps of paper, after listening to some sort of radio contraption he had created years ago, which he transfers into a large book, but mainly it’s fireside chats with his feet up and Sunday lunches cooked by my mother. He also got a lot of letters, which always seemed to make him smile.

So that’s what I did all year, except for the eating cookies part – I have a figure to maintain you know. My mother had not gone with pops, because he wanted to centre himself after years of working the same job and getting the same results with the same staff – he was bored, to put it bluntly. So he had shed the red coat and gone on a backpacking tour through Europe.

Life continued as normal for me. Fireside chats, Sunday lunches, the works. Only I never did any writing. I never checked the radio thingy once. Mum would look at it worriedly a couple of times a day, and then look in my direction, but she never said anything. The letters piled up, but I didn’t open a single one – they weren’t addressed to me. I maintain to this day that pops told her not to interfere. I had been moaning for years as to how easy his job was, and I think he went on sabbatical just to prove a point. Besides the fact that he needed a holiday.

Around about the end of November, a group of elves came to fit me for my red suit. As there was no hope that I would fit into pop’s one, they had to make one specially for me. I requested skin-tight leather, none of that fluffy cotton stuff, and I must say that I looked damn sexy when they had finished. Thigh-high black boots, leather pants and zip-up top. I refused the hat though – I wasn’t going to have hat-hair because I’d had to travel all night.

December first the head elf, who had been trying to meet with me since January (I always brushed him off), finally barged into the living room where I was reading by the fire.

“Martin!” I reprimanded. “You knock first!”

“I’m sorry Miss Sarah, but it’s urgent.”

I marked my place in my book and then put it down on the pouf beside me. Sighing, I turned to face the elf, who was pale and sweating. “What is it Martin?”

“When are we supposed to start making the toys? We could probably manage about a third of them in a month, but how are we supposed to make enough toys for all the children?”

“What do you...”

“And when are you going to tell us what to make? And for whom? Are we making for the naughty as well this year? And how do we know what each child wants?” He was speaking so fast his mouth was a blur. “You haven’t told us!”

“How am I supposed to...”

“And when are you going to take the sleigh out for a test run to see if it needs any repairs? The reindeer also need to practice their flying, or else they will fall from the sky. Rudolf needs his nose polished with that special polish in the jar on the shelf above the fireplace, and Dasher needs his Prozac renewed or he won’t be flying anywhere anyway.”

“Prozac? What are you...”

“Well Miss Sarah, what are we going to do?”

I sat in stunned silence for a while. “What do you mean when are you supposed to make the toys and for whom,” I whispered. Don’t you just make them?”

“No Miss Sarah. Santa gets letters from the children telling him what they want. He then checks his radio to see if they are being naughty or nice. Then he brings the list to us and tells us to make a dolly with red hair for Suzie Green or a fire-truck for Johnny Brown.”

“You mean I was supposed to read the letters and check the radio.”

There was silence in the room. Awkward silence. “You mean you haven’t?”

“No...I...well...I thought...oh shit!”

“Lucky for you I have.” I turned around startled. Mother was standing in the open doorway, a large book in her hands. “In this book is the list of all the nice children, as well as what they asked for. If the elves work overtime, and we pay them extra wages, we should manage to get all the toys done by Christmas Eve. “

“But you never said!”

“Your father always told you that his job wasn’t easy. You just never believed him.” She handed the book to Martin. “Get ready for a load of work, and tell the elves we will pay them double. Meanwhile,” she looked in my direction, “you need to test the sleigh, polish Rudolf’s nose and give this box of Prozac to the head reindeer-elf.” She pulled a box from her apron pocket. Heading over to the fireplace, she took down a gold-ish coloured jar. “Go polish the nose for starters. And don’t forget to take the Prozac with you.”

Embarrassed I headed out the room. As I walked past the elves I couldn’t look them in the eye, but I knew that each one was staring at me with a combination of pity and anger. Reaching the stables, I handed the box to the elf in charge and then went to Rudolf’s quarters. Opening the jar I pulled out what looked to be a powder puff from the inside, and then dipped it into the clear polish. As I rubbed his nose, an act which seemed to soothe him, I began to cry. I had ruined Christmas. If the children didn’t get their presents they would stop believing in Santa, and then pops would be out of work, the reindeer would lose their magic and the north pole would melt. The elves would have to seek employment as Munchkins in Wizard of Oz productions, or else stand at street corners begging for handouts. The tears flowed, and I stifled a sob.

“Here miss, have a tissue.” Robert the head stable elf handed me a packet. “Don’t be so sad, it isn’t ruined yet. We still have lots of time, and now that Dasher has his Prozac he will be fit for flying in no time, and Rudolf’s nose will shine just as brightly as it’s supposed to. The other elves will be able to handle the toys. It was like this in the beginning, when Santa had just begun. He didn’t know what to do either. It’s only through practice and mistakes that he was able to establish such a great routine. Why, I remember the Christmas of 1809, when we were still delivering toys as the Children were waking up.”

I took the tissues, opened the packet, pulled one out and blew my nose. Shoving that tissue into my pocked, I pulled out another and wiped my eyes. I sniffed. “You mean I haven’t ruined Christmas?”

“Oh no miss. It will be fine, I promise. Now, that nose is polished enough, so you go inside and warm yourself. Maybe have a nice hot cup of cocoa and let the elves do the work they were born to do. Later tonight we will test the sleigh, or maybe tomorrow, whenever Dasher is ready to fly again. Don’t you worry about a thing.”

I put the puff back into the jar and screwed on the lid. Trundling inside, I made my way to the living room where I placed the jar back on the mantle. Then I sat down and put my head in my hands.

We made it though. The last toy was completed five minutes before I was due to fly out, and Christmas was saved through the hard work of elves, who spent their extra wages in the tavern getting sloshed on eggnog. It was a Christmas to remember. And I never complained that pop’s job was so easy again. In fact, the following year I helped him out a little bit.

And my red suit? It stayed in my closet until I had outgrown it. Boots and all.