I knew he had already arrived at the rendezvous point because I could smell him.
Discreet? Fat chance.
Demure? Even fatter.
Secret? None whatsoever.
It was that time of year when everyone makes merry, tipsy, sloshed, you name it, he has to try a sample and it’s not even Christmas yet! Even rum in the babas, buns or pies were fair game and he has scoffed them all. It came as no surprise that the missus made his belt out of elastic this year, but even that was protesting heavily at the latest onslaught of mince pies and brandy nog. It was a wonder he wasn’t sick last year. Now that would be a lovely present to leave under the tree wouldn’t it!
So what happens? It’s left to us, his minion workers and loyal transport to steer him on the right path so as not to disappoint anyone.
Well enough already.
The rosy cheeks and glowing nose will NOT be alcohol induced this year.
Me and the guys are going to tie him up in his jingle bells and gag him for a silent night.
It was so easy to entice him here. The sleigh had to have a refit to match his girth so our rendezvous was slightly south of the North Pole.
Ha! The Santa Sack holds a whole new meaning, and provided we can sober him up enough, we’ll be off delivering toys and goodies on schedule to millions.
Maybe some kids will leave out some carrots for us. I’m rather partial to apples myself.
I knew he had already arrived at the rendezvous point because I could…