Uh Oh—A Greeting Card From The North Pole?

 

Ordinarily, I’d love this festive time of year. Twinkling lights hanging from all the trees on a cold, breezy, winter night.

Never mind that you can’t see their reflection on the wet streets below because of all the bumper-to-bumper holiday traffic, butI expect that sort of thing at Christmas time.

epa03970663 Christmas lights on Regent Street in London, Britain, 29 November 2013. EPA/ANDY RAIN ** Usable by LA, CT and MoD ONLY **

epa03970663 Christmas lights on Regent Street in London, Britain, 29 November 2013. EPA/ANDY RAIN ** Usable by LA, CT and MoD ONLY **

Along with all the holiday shoppers in the malls. Pushing, shoving, jockeying for position creating those long lines I always seem to get stuck in.

But, like I said, it’s Christmas time and I expect it—ATCHOO! Uh…I tink I’ve caught anutter nasty code in my dose. (Honk!)

Yet, I’ve come to expect that sort of thing too, during the season of…of…of—ATCHOO!—giving.

Honk, Pfft, and Sniffle. Speaking of which, I’d sure love to find out who gave me this miserable code—SO I COULD GIVE IT BACK TO THEM!

All I do know is, is I better get a stocking full of NyQuil this year—you know, the nighttime cold and flu medicine—along with lots of chicken soup too.

Wanna know what didn’t I expect, though? A Christmas card from the North Pole.

My wife and I arrived home from a pleasant evening out at a little Christmas soiree. She went to check the mailbox and came back with a pile of mail that even Santa Claus would find overwhelming.

“Hey…there’s a Christmas card in here for you dear” my wife said, “and it’s from the North Pole! Who do you know at the North Pole?” she asked.

Poor woman. Guess she never heard of Mr. Narwhal.

All the same, I dropped my Airborne tablet—completely missing my glass of water in the process—and exclaimed, “Silly girl, don’t you know I have connections everywhere?”

Oh I make no secret of the fact I’d hoped Santa Claus would write me again. But in my wildest dreams I never truly believed he would. I mean, not after the infamous blowtorch incident. But we won’t go there… I was only nine at the time, anyway.

Besides, I think there should be an expiration date on that kind of thing, don’t you?

Back to the card. Naturally I was excited. I’d felt my massive letter write-in campaign to Santa over the past year, called—PROTEST 2014—helped the ‘Big Guy’ to see the error of his ways.

This, for not giving me my Christmas wish last year. Or any other year for that matter.

Oh, the wish?

For one million dollars in unmarked bills—to be dropped down a chimney of my own choosing on Christmas Eve.

I could have asked for two million dollars, but I felt why push it and have him think me greedy. So I told him I’d settle for ONE. After all, I’m not the extortionist Mrs. Claus and all those horribly pathetic, itsy bitsy, teenie weenie, tiny, little minded elves have made me out to be. I’m just an ordinary guy whose name is etched in stone on the naughty list, trying to get what’s coming to me.

Who do those elves think they are anyway? His legal counsel!

So, what did fatso send me last year? A buck, that’s what! Oh no, not a full grown deer, but a WHOLE ONE DOLLAR BILL! I found it at the bottom of my Christmas stocking along with a note stating “Son, you made the list again. Love; Santa.” And he wants me to love him for that?

And at the bottom of the page—IN VERY FINE PRINT—it said…

THE NAUGHTY LIST!

Well that was the last straw. I just knew this year was gonna be different. So I lunged for the card my wife was holding— practically knocking her onto our corner table. Fortunately,  her incredible sense of balance helped her find the floor, instead.

Now, with envelope in hand, I eagerly read…

“Greetings from the North POLL!”

(A side note here. One of my friends, Sarah Ferguson (no, not the Duchess of York), she caught this misspelling. Check out her funny response in the comment section below. Though, I’m sure it was because someone spiked my eggnog—which by the way, I don’t drink.)

It card continued…

“You know Dasher and Dancer and Prancer and Vixen. Comet and Cupid, Donner, and Blitzen. But do you recall… the most famous reindeer of all?”

I looked up and thought, “Where’s the old fart going with this?”

“Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer, he has a very shiny nose, tells me there’s a guy impersonating him, also has A RED SHINY NOSE. Now all of the other reindeer, tend to laugh and shout out a name. And it isn’t Rudolph the Red-Nose Reindeer, care to play the guessing game?—Hint, hint…his picture is on your blog, and he has a Red Nose, too! Fancy that—MAYBE IT EVEN GROWS!”

Then he asked, “Do you know who he might be—donkey brain? WELL… DO YOU PUNK?”

I looked at my wife… still seated on the carpet.

Slowly, she came to her feet, “Honey, what is it?” she asked “You look as white as snow!” I turned towards her with my eyes, as wide as saucers. My words barely escaped my lips…

“I’m not sure, but I think it’s just possible Santa Claus is, CLINT EASTWOOD!”

I dropped the card in shock, and continued.

“And you know what else?” I think Santa and Rudolph are out to get me!”

Laughing (skeptically), my wife nervously replied “Oh… that’s nonsense, honey.”

I picked up the card and asked “Really? Well feast your eyes on this! She stared at the card for a moment. Then I asked, “Whad’ya say now?”

“They take a nice picture?” she responded.

But what really concerns me is; I can’t shake this nasty feeling that I might not get my million dollars—AGAIN! I just pray none of you ever make THE NAUGHTY LIST like I have.

You might never make parole! (ATCHOO!)

“Honey! Can I have another cup of NyQuil! On second thought—JUST BRING THE WHOLE BOTTLE!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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107 comments on “Uh Oh—A Greeting Card From The North Pole?

  1. You have to wonder — do all those other reindeer ever get resentful at being relegated to the background? I mean, sure, we’ve *heard* of them all, but as the unfair saying goes: “Who is the most famous reindeer of all?”

    That’s why we need Clint Eastwood to establish some much-needed equilibrium among the reindeer. Comet, Cupid, Donner, Blitzen … they’re tired of that red-nosed blowhard stealing all the thunder. As Clint would no doubt say: “Go ahead, Rudolph — guide my sleigh.”

    • LOL!!! I’m putty in your hands, Allen! LOLOLOLOL!!! I’m so jealous. Okay, if this one ever gets made into an annual holiday classic, it’ll be because I insisted that the studio put you in charge of adapting the screenplay. I swear, this has got to be the most fun we can have for free! 😀

      • I could see it playing every year, right after the Charlie Brown Christmas special.
        Or, better yet, they could run it for 24 straight hours, like TBS did with “A Christmas Story.” Hollywood really CAN make dreams come true! 🙂

      • That’s what I keep saying! What are these rich Hollywood moguls thinking?

        Just to spite them, I think we should live in relative obscurity and earn nothing on our writing. That’ll show those smug show-biz buffoons!

      • Yeah! And if that’s what it’s going to take to show these big time smug studio mucky mucks with big wigs (Hey Allen, ever wonder why they wear those things? I know I do.), then I think I’m already on the right track. And you know, how they’re always saying ‘Everything has already been done before, and that no one ever writes anything new anymore.’ well I’ll show em. From now on, I’m only going to write a different slant on original stories—you know, stories others have already wrote. No more original stuff from me like my…”Uh Oh—A Greeting From The North Pole?” We just can’t go around GIVING them original material like that. Writings like that should command at least a four figure income, like say… $10.00!

      • Hollywood specializes at producing bland, run-of-the-mill, mediocre slop — which, when I think about it, seems to suit my skills perfectly. Yet those big-wigged studio execs still won’t accept my scripts. (Unless it’s to toss into the fireplace to keep their drafty office warm.)

        Its pool of talent is more like a cesspool … or at least like a neglected swimming pool with algae growing along the sides and a dead squirrel floating upside-down along the surface. And then your spouse proclaims, “See, I knew we shouldn’t have bought a house with a pool! You told me you’d keep it clean!”

      • I don’t feel these Hollywood moguls understand the damage they do when they hire people without the talent to write crap like we can. Look at how many swimming pools develop algae, resulting in dead squirrels able to do the backstroke on the pools surface while being dead. And why is that? Because, some Hollywood mogul advocates the building of a cesspool full of hacks who only know how to write bad crap—not the good crap like you and I—who then unknowingly put husband’s everywhere into harms way with their wives, and all because they are ill-equipped to clean the cesspool out. Obviously, our previous septic tank experience gives us a boot up! 😀

  2. Lol…I’m still laughing at this. Maybe I’ll make this the new ‘Twas The Night Before Christmas story I read to my grandchildren on Christmas Eve. I know there’s the possibility of scarring them for life but if I do it every year, at some point, (maybe when they’re 30 or so), they’ll come to understand and appreciate the message behind story.

    And You😀

    • I swear it’s the truth, George—every last word! Well, maybe not every last word, but some last words, well no maybe every third or fourth word, but certainly the first words…they’re true. I mean the bits about my wife, the pushy shoppers, and the backed up holiday traffic—THOSE WERE LIES! But, the parts about me on the naughty list, Rudolph telling Santa that I was copying him, oh… and Santa actually being Clint Eastwood—THAT WAS ALL TRUE! George… can you wait a minute? Seems my nose is experiencing some kind of growth spurt. I can’t explain it, but, I’m here in the Sierra Foothills, and for some reason, the tip of my nose is in…HAWAII!!! I’ll have to get back to you later. That is, if I can get my nose back. 😀

  3. Though I found your tale very funny as I was reading it, thinking about it now, I can’t help but feel a certain amount of disquiet. I wonder if there might be something to what you say about Santa’s true identity. Santa Claus — or Saint Nicholas as he once liked to be known — was born in the third century AD, so he’s approximately the same age as Clint Eastwood.

    Then there’s the fact that he can really hold a grudge in a suspiciously Dirty Harry-esque way. I mean, that blowtorch incident was years ago and the school has been completely rebuilt, so what’s the problem?

    Finally, there’s the highly significant detail that I’ve never seen Santa Clause and Clint Eastwood in the same chimney at the same time. If we can just find some video footage of Santa having a conversation with an empty chair, the evidence will be incontrovertible.

    • Yes, but now that you mention it that concerns me too. I was only nine at the time…how was I to know the thing worked with fire? I mean, when I was goofing around with the lighter, I wasn’t so much trying to lite the blowtorch as I was trying to set the grass on fire. But, I gave up being a pyromaniac as a career, just one year later, when they told me there was no money in it. That really does make me wonder why Santa, I mean Clint, didn’t cross me off the naughty list? And until you pointed out all those peculiarities, concerning Clint and Santa, I never gave it a second thought. Oh sure, a third, fourth, or a fifth maybe, but never a second thought. But, I doubt they have any video of Santa having a conversation with an empty chair—he’d have to be a Republican! And Mrs. Claus wouldn’t stand for it, because she’s a Democrat! 😀

    • Thank you eths. And I think he’s a pretty funny sit-down comedian too. But you mean, he’s also a writer? How did I miss that one? Obviously, I’ve underestimated his abilities. Apparently, a more thorough examination of his work is required on my part. But seriously, thank you for the kind words, I do appreciate them. :o)

    • Oh eths, this is a P.S. which is not to be confused with B.S. which would just cheapen what I’m about to say to you. But, I just wanted to add a thank you for following me here in”The Attic.” And rest assured, once you’ve come inside, you needn’t worry about me locking the doors behind you. I tried that once on some new followers several months back, and they repaid that hospitality, by breaking down The Doors for me—by singing all their songs with one of them impersonating Jim Morrison. I was so ill prepared for that one, that I said… no more doors. Anyway, forgive my silliness, and know you are always welcome in here as one of my guest. As I’ve since given up using the word…captive. ;o)

  4. So much better than Dickens, Paul…it will become a classic in my book: “Who do you know on the North Pole?” A masterpiece and I bow and thank you! Wishing you still that million bucks, Johanna

      • By the way, Sarah, I think you’re the only person who caught that one! And yes, my latest POLL numbers are down—this being election year eve. They show me slightly trailing Rudolph in the race for which one of us has the shinier Red-Nose, making it a toss-up. But, I’m not too worried about the North POLE Chad, as I think I’m going to win it by a nose! Naughty list indeed. Why come next year, it’s an almost certainty that I’ll be guiding Santa’s sleigh. You wait and see, those flying lessons I took last summer are going to come in real handy. 😀

      • Do you get overtime pay if you win this election/race? Because it appears that you’re going to be working Christmas Eve. And based on what I hear, it’s a very long day that requires a lot, lot, lot of travel. Plus, they’re only serving carrots as snacks for the flight.

      • I’m not quite sure, I know there had been some talk out on the floor among the elves, that there was a pool going around that said the winner would only get minimum wage for working that night. However, if I win there will be some changes in that policy, let me tell ya. As for the hours in the air? Well, I’m used to having sleigh-lag, though not as bad a jet-lag, it can leave you out of it for a few days. Carrots! Are you sure? I swore—in the memo to Mrs. Claus that I’d never work for peanuts again! Guess I should have included carrots in that memo too. Of all the underhanded, sneaky, low-down, conniving, pranks to play on someone—and on Christmas Eve too!

  5. How do you know he never delivered a cold million down the wrong chimney? Or just not the one you had in mind.

    Besides, they don’t make money. Silly boy…he has elves working in Santa’s workshop, making toys. hello?

    I hate to say this…but there’s another “list” a lot of us don’t know about… the “dumb” list. I only know this because I’ve made it a couple of times with dumb requests:

    Hey, Santa can you bring me an awesome car? (got a hot wheels car in my stocking)

    Yo, St. Nick, how ’bout I ride shotgun with you, I’ll hang with the reindeer while you deliver toys? And you can bring me some cookies? (I got my mom’s car that we prayed it didn’t run out of gas because the gage stopped working…and having to drop off gifts door-to-door, and if I tried to eat any treat, my hand was slapped)

    Santa, at the risk of making the naughty list, can you please deliver a broken doll (head falls off) to that idiot Tammy West who embarrassed me in front of the entire 2nd grade class? – nope, of course, she got the best doll ever. I got a bean-bag doll.

    I eventually stopped asking for gifts. He gave me a sense-of-humor.

    Sandi

    • Sandi, I fear one day, my family will walk in on me after I’ve just finished reading one of your responses to my posts—and they’ll see me on the floor rolling around in hysterics—and feel I’m going into convulsions and call the paramedics! This was so damn funny, I was dying with laughter. The hand slapping sent me over the edge!!! YOU HAVE A MAGNIFICENT SENSE OF HUMOR! OMG, I fear you understand me all too well. What a scary thought. 😀

      • I think we already came to the conclusion we are distant cousins. Santa must slap his forehead every time he hears from us. Oh, gawd, it’s these two knuckleheads again. Hey, Blitzen, Donner…if you come across these two, just bit e ’em in the assets, will ya? Ha! That’s better than coal. A reindeer bite, that’s good. Pass it on to the team.

      • I’ll never turn my back on those reindeer ever again. Its funny, but I’ve never had to worry about Max doing something like that when I’ve gone up on the rooftop to help The Grinch out. I think Santa and the reindeer could stand a few lessons in proper etiquette.

      • I think Santa needs to tighten those reigns a little bit more. Undisciplined, unhinged, and unavailable for comment at recent holiday press conferences, his reindeer have been allowed to run amok. Why just the other day, I heard this report on the radio about how a grandmother got ran over by one of them. I’ll bet she was in the crosswalk too. Disgraceful.

      • Rudolph’s nose must have not worked properly to light the way. Quality Assurance Department needs to be contacted and a SCAR issued (Santa Corrective Action Report) – the Elf Engineers need to find out the root cause, and a corrective action on how they will avoid this issue in the future. Report is due tomorrow…

  6. Sigh… I’m on the naughty list EVERY YEAR! Which is why I never win the lottery. Also why I’m so into drinking juices with charcoal added. It’s like prepping for Christmas morning. Santa’s all like “You horrible monster you get COAL IN YOUR STOCKING!” and I’m like “FINE I LOVE COAL, I’LL JUST JUICE IT AND ADD A LITTLE LIME SO THANK YOU SANTA!” and then Santa gets all pissy because I’ve thwarted his one and only power- to make you feel terrible for being a bad person. Hah! Santa has no power over me! Nothing can stop me now!!

    Also would you like my boyfriend to look at that nasty code? He’s a pretty good programmer so he could really help!

    • Well, if he knows what it takes to break a code, then yes, I could use the services of a good code breaker—this runny dose is driving me nuts! You know, in my scanning of the list I thought I saw your name on there. But, fortunately for you, you weren’t in the top ten like I was—probably why your profile wasn’t up at the post office. But, you’re right about Santa having this power to make people feel terrible. Before he merged with the banks and credit card companies, and that big eastern syndicate, he was forced to share that power. Way to stand up to him and use your stocking for good, instead of a tennis shoe. Besides, you would have looked silly walking around with just one stocking on anyway. 😀

  7. Pingback: The Big Reveal and WINNERS! | Susie Lindau's Wild Ride

  8. You had me as soon as you posted a picture from Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer, but kept me for the whole story! Nice work. And I do kind of see the resemblance between you and Rudolph now that Santa mentioned it.

    • Thank you, Sean. But, you can see why I feel that silly reindeer is copying me, don’t you? Why, he even tried to go me one better by fixing his nose to light up—that’s how he got the job guiding that sleigh. No wonder Santa hired him over me. I could of done it too, but I didn’t know any electricians who worked on noses. 😀

  9. Lol! You surely made me laugh out loud! Rudolph’s my all tym favourite but sometimes I feel pity …that’s for Dasher, Dancer, Prancer , Vixen, Comet, Cupid, Donner, and Blitzen of course!! The poor things are pushed away in the background even though they’re fit and fine !
    And trust me ….I wish even I could give back my cold to those who gave it to me in the first place …!!! *Warm wishes and sympathy to people with “nasty codes’s”*
    *giggle*

  10. Santa Claus might be Clint Eastwood… keeping aside the weight, the costume and the beard… just to mention a few ones…
    I am wondering is Sarah Palin could have been behind that strange letter… ha
    Merry Christmas and all my best wishes to you. Aquileana 🎄

    • Oh, that would be so like her! Ever since I sent her packing back to Alaska, I’ve always felt she wouldn’t stop running until she reached the North Pole. You know, now there’s a scary thought. What if she’s posing as Mrs. Claus? Nah, couldn’t be. Merry Christmas, Aquileana! I hope you and your family have the most wonderful holiday ever, Aquileana. :O)

  11. NO!! Say it isn’t so!! Clint Eastwood?? Okay, that’s it, I’m done with Santa. Why the nerve. Who does he think he is accusing you of imitating Rudolf? Thank you Paul for bringing this to my attention. Now if you’ll excuse me I gotta go tear up my Santa’s fan club membership card.

    • Stephanae, this makes me wish I had a Santa Fan Club card to tear up with you. Unfortunately, my application was denied stamped, “TOO BAD!” I don’t know if the elves were trying to say, too bad I didn’t qualify, or “Too Bad” meaning I’m so bad I’m off the charts bad! Merry Christmas, Stephanae! :O)

      • Thank you, Steph. I promise I’ll work harder to be less naughty next year. Especially since I didn’t work on that problem at all last year. I must have forgot to do it. My wife say’s I have the attention span of a nat. Although, I don’t know how she was able to scientifically come to that conclusion. I fear she may have a small laboratory out back, where she conducts tiny medical experiments with microscopic tools on these nats. Naturally she would never perform such experiments on me. She’d have to do it while I was asleep. But, I keep waking up, and that’s how I know she hasn’t. 😀

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