Photo by Lynda Hinton on Unsplash
Dear Mrs Santa,
You must be quite surprised to receive a letter one day after Christmas’ Eve. Usually, at home, it’s usually the father who is overwhelmed by letters and cards of all kinds.
Don’t get too excited, I don’t want to make you a list of unlikely gifts that you’d have to deliver to me, I’m saving it for the fat man who shares your daily life.
On the other hand, aren’t you surprised this morning not to find the old bearded man next to you under the sheets? Maybe you’re already worried?
Don’t be, he’s with me, always so happy and animated with kindness. But for pity’s sake, come and get him.
How did he get there?
I will tell you.I spent Christmas’ Eve quietly on a terrace facing the river, it was warm and clear (well, sorry but I wanted to show off). And suddenly, like a meteorite in a terrible crash, Santa’s sleigh crashed.
What happened?
The new anti-covid security measures are not to the taste of reindeer. Rodolf, the head reindeer breathed too hard, the mask got stuck in his windpipe, destabilized the reindeer that was following him and ended up with the mask over his eyes.
Santa tried to guide them but his hands soaked in hydroalcoholic gel let the reindeer escape.
And Bim, the sleigh crashed. Bad luck, but it hadn’t fallen badly, we have a few handymen in the group ready to fix it. But Santa Claus refused.
He was fascinated by the freedom of this preserved territory. No masks, no confinement, Australia seemed to float above international unrest.
I told him that at the North Pole, he didn’t seem to be very bothered.
And while wet with sweat, he began to take off his heavy coat, boots, and even his pants, he began his long lament. But the North Pole, girl, is confinement every day! He only leaves the house to go to work, he is stuck with his good wife (sorry Mrs Santa, those are his own words) every night. No theater, no cinema, no bar, nothing to entertain himself.
Yes, yes he could make an effort and make friends with the elves, but let’s be serious, elves… Pffff except the conversations around the toys…
In short, if everyone wanted to escape the lockdown why not him?!
And then, I think you know him, he became whimsical. Finished the North Pole, he moved to Australia. No more leprechauns, the backpackers will take care of toys prodution. Reindeer will be put in the closet, he still hesitates between kangaroos (it’s funny their little jumps, but can be tricky to keep the gifts in the sleigh) or sharks to replace them.
Ah yes because Monsieur is thinking of delivering by sea… I tempted to explain to him that by the sea the delivery times…
But he is stubborn, and he is now planning to revolutionize Christmas. It is not for a day, but for a month that everyone would celebrate it.
Well, then we hardly listened, he would chain together the unspoken dreams, the fantasies, and the dark elucubrations.
He was in his underpants, on our couch that he chatted alone and enthusiastically.
It’s not that I don’t want to welcome him, but… He had a good appetite and emptied all our beer stock!
So, for pity’s sake, Mrs Santa, come and get him. I promise you, I will find sweet souls for you to set up cafes, shows, and activities in your cold country.
I’m really counting on you.
Bring back the cinnamon cookies he loves, he talks about it with passion, it will undoubtedly convince him.
I hope you’ll be able to move quickly, I couldn’t keep him on my couch forever.
Thanks to you.
Have a good trip.
Merry Christmas,
Mylene
Merry Christmas my little friends! I hope you enjoy this year’s tale 