He Who Loved Christmas

There was a boy who loved Christmas very much. He loved it so much that he fancied himself a Who living in his own Whoville. Unfortunately he was surrounded by Grinches. His mother would get a bad case of the hives that would reach its itchy apex on Christmas day as everyone opened their presents. His father pretended to like Christmas, but his imitation smile was always going crooked, haywire. His older brother slept through opening presents and would get his presents at night time and take them to his room to open them there.

This boy's name was Fredrick and he loved Christmas more than he liked his family. In his minds eye the day was very different. Upon waking, a pigeon flew to his little bed, a green velvet ribbon around it's neck. The bird carried a map to the land of elves hidden in a locket. Though he had met the elves around many a corner, and leaping in the way they do in forests and dells behind his house, he had never been invited to their land. Soon he would see their great hall with festive trimmings and a feast of nectars. His heart was like a field full of galloping horses.

Fredrick saw the bird fly out the window, and then in a flash of light his room was no longer a room but a nest of moss and snowflake butterflies and joy. He looked around him and saw lots of tiny little men looking at him, but there was one man who looked different then the rest. He was a fat little man no more than a foot and a half tall. Fredrick knew instantly who he was. He was Santa, his beard was white as snow and went down past his toes.
Santa saw Fredrick's curious look and smiled.
"Oh I bet you re surprised my beard is so long, it does cause trouble some times. With tripping and such." said Santa
"Its not your beard I just thought you were taller!"

Fredrick's mother was still down in the kitchen. In fact, she's always in the kitchen drinking "fuzzy navels" with an unlit cigarette in her mouth. Sometimes she'll slip out onto the porch and smoke her cigarette and then come back to her own nest, the kitchen. She's presently pondering the fascination people have with that little fucker called Santa Claus. Where does he come from? She wonders. She remembers that there is an image she once saw of a German village where a short man with a beard too long to walk with brought gifts house to house like a doctor in the plague times looking for the sick.

The laundry hamper looked full.

She noticed it wiggle and jiggle.Putting her hand to her head she set down her drink and looked again. With a gust of force a little man popped out. A carved pipe he was smoking emitted enormous billowing clouds of cedar scented smoke that sent her swooning to the floor where she swayed on all fours until collapsing flat. Enormous roots and the knotty trunk of trees were taking over her formica kitchen.From what was formerly the kitchen sink a wild waterfall was pouring into a stream that danced around the foot of the kitchen table.

She saw her empty glass that once held her fuzzy navel and filled it with the crisp flowing water. The little man pulled out a glass of his own held it up to cheers and said who is the little fucker now? She was humored at the thought of Santa using that language and held up her glass and said cheers. As she took a sip of the magical Santa water she was overwhelmed with Christmas spirit, years of Christmas hatred melted away. She ran upstairs to find Fredrick who was already awake sitting up in bed, she went over, hugged him and said Merry Christmas!

It was one of many of the Best Christmases ever!
THE END

penned by BD, Alta, Emory & myself