Santa Story- "A Pile of Eggs"

“A Pile of Eggs”

Santa was trying to hatch four Easter eggs and rested on the colorful bunch for God knows how long.  It seemed as if the Easter Bunny was more than preoccupied on this day in which he got sick and Santa worked up for him as a substitute, although Saint Nick had eaten enough cookies last year before going into hibernation mode.  Let’s say all those desserts left behind for the Christmas present-maker were refused by naughty children because of their special colors.  A fact such as that indicated in the narrator’s last sentence caused Santa so much grief as he realized that 327 jack-in-the-boxes were broken and about 2,000 teddy bears had the same malfunctioning springs.  Still, the Easter Bunny needed somebody to guard his precious eggs before the winter allowed for more vacating vampires; the Sun was stronger in the middle of the year without the nasty effects of a mummy’s sleeping past, and yet half of those Easter eggs probably contained the cuckoos who leveled up with maniacal elves.

The hood-wearing elf was a giant, perhaps over five feet in more centimeters than inches, when Mrs. Claus entered the fictional shed and laughed at the little room’s soggy mess.

“Honey, you’re so stupid.”  She was reluctant in anger.  “I’ve been feeling sweet for the holidays and continuing to approve of the toys you can’t handle.  Why are you in here in so much gloom?”

“I’m a substitute for the Easter Bunny, my dear, and I expect you to go to the best gym in the North Pole!  Yelp has given me the basics, but you need to get in shape for the baking marathon three elves are holding by this year’s Christmas week.  Besides,” Santa exasperated with a burning fever, “you’ve been here long enough to know Jack the Reaper and Uncle Sam.  The Easter Bunny is trying to recover so he can bring them together at a Southern bar in Miami.”

Eyes glittered between husband and wife as only time permitted their existence.  Both Clauses knew, against their holy belief for victims recovering from Florida’s recent hurricanes, the Easter Bunny wasn’t out to make a statement or act professional within the extremes of American politics.  In fact, at least half a million sleighs had been repaired by elves who broke their backs for the holidays and Macy’s was on fire.

“We’ve had good food from that place in glory, darling, but what has the general southern direction toward Old Bill Murray’s anything to do with special days for celebration?  I might be in the South right now depending on how my head is screwed on.”

Santa laughed, putting his cig on a piece of old glass and pouting in exaggeration.

“Naughty children don’t know us, my lady.  Christmas can freeze up as we set our minds to it and I’ve stopped by gas stations from time to time to buy candy for Rudolph, the red-nosed reindeer.  He has some sweet teeth in his talk about Dasher and Blitzen, yet I agree with all three that Philosophy doesn’t work so well on flying animals since we’re up in the air around Christmas time at the speed of light.”

“You’re as fast as light, honey?”

“I’m exaggerating.”  Santa lit up a cig which lost its mint flavor some three weeks ago.

“Oh, I may see your point as a great wife toward your adventures with gifts, honey, but I’ve work to do on the green video games.  When should the elves open up for such high-end technology?  Why, they’ve built for Microsoft as of late to meet demands, however late children are to their Christmas trees.  You must be irritated when candy canes are eaten before the video games arrive in strange bows and gift tags; however, more than enough elves have been at command while holidays roll by.  Darling!  Eternity is practically passing us by and we’re late on our toy production for the first time since 1987, a year when cinnamon was out of stock at some markets and Thanksgiving led to a Friday with more black to it.  Where do you want me to lay your… baskets, was it?… so I can get sleep day after day until my baking process begins?”

Santa told her to leave all five, multicolored baskets by the chimney and to return to the deer stables, all 28 stalls by the wooden shed, in preparation for the wintry spectacles that follow in about 180 days.  Mrs. Claus obliged, setting the baskets and leaving the shed, and hoped Santa wouldn’t barge in on her when the Easter eggs hatched and took the first breaths of holiday life.

https://gameuniverso.deviantart.com/art/A-Pile-of-Eggs-716934473