The Trial Of Santa Clause
Christmas was late. St Nick was to blame. Now, lawyers are circling...
Alfred the Lawyer kicked the snow from his boots. The entrance to this hidey hole was well camouflaged, but St Nick couldn’t escape from justice. It had been a long search. Christmas had been late, delayed, and the children of the world wanted to find out why.
He knocked on the door.
It was a nice door, he mused. It had holy and ivy, and there was a faint scent of Christmas pudding in the air. When the door opened, he saw a elf looking up at him. The reports were correct. He wore green, and had long, pointy ears. Just like the witness photo fits. What was unexpected was the big cigarette hanging out of his mouth.
“Is St Nick about?” Alfred asked.
“Who wants to know?”
I brought out my ID. It even had the court seal on it, to make it look nice and proper. The elf picked it up, sighed. “I’ll show you in.”
The movies always show it as a miraculous place, Santa Clauses grotto. But the reality is quite different. Long, concrete corridors, with intermittent doors. I peered through one. It looked like a sweat shop, there were so many sweating elves working away with little green hammers. It made me feel kind of queasy.
“He’s in here.”
Santa Clause looked like a medical malpractice suite in potential. He had an inch of fat on his nose, and a mile everywhere else. But he was dressed in a red suit. And he was also busy drinking a glass of port.
“Who are you?” he asked me.
“We... Alfred Redburn.” I said, “I’m here to...”
“Alfred Redburn? Aren’t you the kid that used to put their hamster down the toilet, just to see what happened?”
I could feel the heat on my face. It had been a mistake. St Nick glared at me, his eyebrows meeting in the middle of his face. Then he leaned back and took another swig of the red liquid.
“I’m here to serve you notice...”
“You know, Santa Clause can be nasty or nice,” he said to me. He picked up the paper. “What’s this? Breach of Contract?”
“You were late,” Alfred said, breathing through his nose, “You didn’t deliver on Christmas eve.”
“But what contract?” Santa Clause asked.
That was the tricky part of the law suit, but Alfred was pretty sure I would be able to swing it with the jury. After all, they had kids too. Alfred shrugged. “See you in court,” he said.
“You know the sad thing about this?” St Nick said, his eyes firmly fixed on Alfred’s ear, “I never did fulfil my promise to you.”
“You want me to keep the contract. It’s only fair I keep my contract with you.”
Alfred felt his ears. They were soft, and furry. “Squeak?” he said, “Squeak?”
St nick picked him up, “You know, I wonder what DOES happen,” and walked to the bathroom.
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