Taking Santa's Suit

An elf wants to be Santa

When I zip around the cherry red suit, it’s a happy holiday.

At Christmas time, an elf should be merry.

But I’m not.

You see―I don’t want to be an elf. I want to wear red and deliver the presents so I can be someone important.

My name? That would be Enchilada Elf. My dear mother loved enchiladas.

Santa and the Mrs. went to pick up the hot water bottles (for Santa’s Christmas Eve ride).

So I dash into Santa’s room, waltzing past the big guy’s guard walrus.

I close the door. My eyes see the prize.

I slip over and give the suit a YANK.

Something’s wrong. I wiggle and wriggle. Horrors. I’ve hit a snag.

Santa locks it? I grab the pliers out of my green (not red) suit and pick the lock.

“FLIBBERMEJIBBIT!”

BANG!

WHAM!

THWACK!

You hear a noise? Someone’s coming? I dive behind the toy box.

“I know I heard banging coming from in here, Jume.”

“Well, I don’t see anything, Mack.”

SLAM!

I crawl over to the suit, stand up and attempt to break the lock.

Couldn’t.

But I did a good job of smushing it.

I’ve got it!

I snatch the tool box.

CLICK.

CLINK.

TAP.

Only two bolts left when . . .

Rrrringggggg.

Should I answer it?

“Er, hello?

Yes, sir. How are you?

Me? I’m preparing the suit for tonight.

Thank you, sir.

Okay, sir.”

I set the phone down. Santa’s leaving early.

Guilt rises to my eyes.

SNIFF.

I use my arm to dry the wet spots.

To the sleigh.

What?

Don’t you think I should?

Why not?

I buckle the belt (looking fabulous in red), but I think on how much I’ll miss building toys.

As I tiptoe past the toymaker shop. I peek in.

My table.

Empty.

The suit comes off, and I rev up the sleigh.

Brum-rum-rum.

I send it off to get Santa.

Br-r-r-r-r-r
Whirrrrr.

ZOOM.

No one can replace him.

No one can replace me.

Being an elf is important.

Santa needs me.