Here’s a fact: Santa Claus isn’t one person. He was, once, as far as we can tell, but now, he’s five, and they go by S.A.N.T.A.
Sven, Antonio, Nielson, Tantony, and Archibald—Five, because expecting one man to do all they do in one night is ridiculous, even if he did have magic to help.
Every January, for one week, the North Pole sleeps. Elf families tuck in with enough firewood to last, the kitchen elves pass out reheatable frozen meals prepared before the break, and if an elf so desires, he doesn’t have to see another soul for seven blissful days.
This is my favorite week…
“The wax man’s face is melting off!” Another one for the list of weird things that I say with surprising regularity.
“Melting how?” James Prothero asks.
I scowl at him over my shoulder. “How many ways can I mean melting?”
“Are we talking Wicked Witch of the West or Ark of the Covenant?”
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