By Kenneth Books, Local Niceville Resident and Author
The Plan
It was late November and at the beginning of the workday, Santa called all his elves to a meeting.
“I’ve decided to promote one of you to assistant Santa,” he said. At first, there was complete silence as the elves digested what they were being told. Then, pandemonium broke out as half the elves condemned the idea as ridiculous and the other half volunteered for the job.
Santa had always encouraged his elves to speak their minds, and this they did with passion. But when he held up his hand for quiet, all the noise halted instantly.
“I see many of you want the job,” he said. “The only fair way I can think of, and the only way to avoid hard feelings, is for me to put the names of all the interested elves in my hat and draw one at random.”
The elves who wanted the promotion wrote their names on expired Christmas cards and nervously passed them to Santa, who filled his red fur hat until it bulged. Then he called in Rudolph, who had been polishing his nose in the barn, to draw one name from among the thousands. Santa unfolded the card, looked at the name and did his best not to look shocked.
“It’s Snark,” he said, his voice catching in his throat. “I’ll start training Snark to be assistant Santa tomorrow. “And someday,” he added, his face turning white, “he’ll take my place and be Santa Claus himself.”
It was a long walk back to his house for Santa. He came in and told Mrs. Claus what he had done. She tsk-tsked disapprovingly.
“I don’t know what gets into you,” she said. “First it was the hula hoop, then the pet rock and then those hideous Cabbage Patch Kids. Well, what’s done is done. Who won the drawing?”
Santa looked at his long-suffering wife and smiled sickly.
“Snark,” he said, his voice little more than a gasp.
“Snark!” Mrs. Claus said, her face reddening half in anger and half in amusement. “Why he’s the worst elf we have!”
Training begins
The next day, Santa dragged himself out of bed, struggling to awaken. After thousands of years of toy-making, elf-hiring and the most strenuous delivery schedule in the world, he was beginning to feel his age. He stretched, listening as his bones cracked and creaked, and looked in the mirror to trace the small wrinkles in his face. He wasn’t sure, but he thought there may be a few more than last year. At least, his hair and beard maintained their youthful snow-white sheen. He was as strong as ever, too. That was a good thing – it takes plenty of muscle to carry enough toys in a sack to satisfy all the boys and girls in the world.
“I’m not getting any younger, that’s for sure,” Santa said to himself, chuckling with a soft “ho-ho-ho.” He was shaken from his thoughts by the mind-clearing aroma of bacon and eggs.
Mrs. Claus, as usual, had risen early to make sure Santa started his day with a hearty breakfast.
As Santa ate his breakfast with customary gusto, he noticed Mrs. Claus looking at him oddly.
“What’s wrong, Mama?” he asked, using his pet name for the woman who had stood by his side for century after century.
“I should ask you the same thing,” she said. “Something’s on your mind. I can always tell.”
Santa sighed, his usually huge appetite stilled. “I could never fool you, could I, Mama?” he said. “The truth is, I’ve been feeling as if I’m getting old.”
“Old!” Mrs. Claus said. “Pish and Tosh! “Why, you’re the youngest 2,000-year-old man I’ve ever seen!”
“True enough,” Santa said. “I realize I’m in the prime of life. But how can I be sure I’ll last another 2,000 years?”
He pushed aside his half-eaten bacon and eggs and paced slowly around and around his house, thinking so hard it brought sweat to his brow, even in the 40-below-zero North Pole weather.
“The worst elf in the whole North Pole,” he said to himself. “He can’t even make a simple doll! He always gets a leg where an arm should be or something.”
“You’ve got to tell him it has to be someone else,” Mrs. Claus said.
“I can’t do that,” Santa said. “I gave my word. Snark is the new assistant Santa Claus.”
The next day, the first thing Santa did after he arrived at his workshop was look for Snark. But Snark was nowhere to be found.
“Where is that elf?” Santa said to himself, a little impatiently. “You’d think this time, for once, he’d be on time.”
Santa looked all over the workshop. No Snark. Then he went outside. Still no Snark. Finally, he looked in the barn. There he found Snark caught in Blitzen’s reins, trying with no success at all to free himself.
“Help me, Santa,” Snark yelled, panicking. I can’t seem to figure this out!”
Santa came over, gave the reins a simple flip, and released the elf. He thought about scolding Snark, then sighed and realized it would probably do no good. Why get worked up about something that nobody – apparently even Snark – could help?
Snark was on his best and most careful behavior as he followed Santa back to the workshop. In fact, on the way, he stepped in a reindeer feed bucket only once and even managed not to knock over any of the work tables inside the workshop.
Santa was about as impressed as he could be with an elf the likes of Snark.
“OK, Snark. Let’s start with the simple stuff,” Santa said, leading the elf to a table where a huge computer sat and grabbing him before he could catch his foot in the printer cable and send all the components to the floor. “One of our most important functions will be to monitor all the boys and girls in the world to see if they’ve been naughty or nice. I use this computer to input information sent to me from parents, teachers and all the observant pets and reindeer all over the earth.”
“So that’s a computer,” Snark said. “How does it work? Magic?”
“Never mind, Santa said. “It works and that’s all we need to know about it right now. Here, let me show you how easy it is.”
Santa punched a button and the screen came alive with reports from the United States, Africa, Asia, Europe and all the continents on the globe.
“Now, see here,” he said, cuffing the elf’s shoulder lightly to catch his wandering attention. “Here’s a little boy named Hassan in the Middle East. He helped his neighbor harvest some olives without even being asked. He was nice.” Santa held down the control button and pushed the “1.” The boy’s name disappeared from the screen.
“You killed him! Snark shrieked, starting to cry.
“Quiet!” Santa said, raising his voice for the first time that year. “I just moved his name to the ‘Nice’ file. Here, let me show you.”
Santa pressed the “F1” key and a list of hundreds of thousands of youngsters appeared on the screen. He scrolled down and there was Hassan’s name.
“Did you see how I did all that?” Santa asked, doubting Snark had any idea what was going on.
“Of course, I did,” the elf replied. “I’m not stupid, you know.”
Santa bit his tongue to keep from saying something he may regret later. “OK,” he said. “Let’s see you do it.”
Snark looked at the computer screen and said, “Look — here’s a little girl named Lucy who fed a stray dog, then found him a home. I’ll just put her in the ‘Nice’ file.”
He reached over pushed the control button and hit “F2.”
“No!” Santa yelled, reaching just a little bit too slowly for the keyboard. His face sagged as the screen went blank.
“You’ve erased the entire data base!” he said with horror. “Now I – I mean you – have to punch in all the names of all the boys and girls in the world all over the world all over again.
The Reindeer Revolt
As Christmas approached, Santa got more and more uneasy. One evening, he was sitting in his living room watching his favorite TV show, “Reindeer Review,” on North Pole Box Office, fidgeting and tapping is fingers until Mrs. Claus had had enough.
“Will you sit still?” she asked. “For days now, you’ve been so jumpy I swear if I came up behind you and said ‘Boo,’ you’d go through the roof!”
“I’m sorry, Mama,” Santa said. “It’s Snark. I’ve been working with him for weeks and he has yet to do something – anything! – right. The elf is a walking disaster area. He can’t walk by anything without knocking it down. He can’t touch anything without breaking it. You show him something over and over and over and he just can’t seem to grasp it. I feel sorry for all the boys and girls in the world if he ever becomes Santa Claus. And I’m frightened – truly frightened – about his first Christmas Eve trip with me in four days!”
Mrs. Claus got up, walked to Santa and started massaging his shoulders. As she continued, he began to relax a little bit for the first time in weeks.
“I was afraid of this the first time I heard Snark was to be assistant Santa,” she said, gently. “Maybe you’d better just tell him he doesn’t have what it takes. It’d be an act of kindness, really. Otherwise, he’ll have to live with the knowledge that he failed as Santa Claus. That would ruin his life.”
“I wish I could just replace him, Mama,” Santa said, patting her hand on his shoulder. “But I just can’t do that to him. He’s so proud that he’ll be Santa someday. I overheard him talking to some of the other elves the other day. He said he just hopes he can be half as good a Santa as I’ve always been. He couldn’t bear the shame if I demoted him.”
A knock on the front door interrupted the Clauses’ conversation. Mrs. Claus opened the door and there stood Rudolph.
“Come in, Rudolph,” said. “May I get you some eggnog or a bale of hay?”
“No thanks, Mama,” Rudolph said. (Everyone on the North Pole called Mrs. Claus “Mama.”) “I’m coming as a representative of all the reindeer. We just had a meeting and, well, we don’t want to make our rounds this year with Snark on the sleigh.”
Santa stood up and peered down at his most famous reindeer. “Look, Rudolph, I know Snark is a little different…” he started.
“A little different? Rudolph burst out. “He’s a nut! We’ve known him for 2,000 years and he still can’t remember our names. Every time you ask him to feed us, we end up with something weird in our feed buckets. One time, he put a bag of marbles in my bowl! The elf just doesn’t think! Or maybe he can’t think. Anyway, we all agreed we can’t go up this year with him riding behind us.”
“Well, I’m sorry to hear this,” Santa said. “I guess I could replace all of you with dogs or horses or hippos or something. But where will you go to live then?”
Rudolph backed up as if he were face-to-face with a hunter.
“But Santa,” he said. “We don’t want to quit!”
“Well, if you let me down on my hardest night of the year, I won’t have any choice,” Santa said gently.
“I’ll get back to you,” Rudolph said, and galloped back to the barn.
Needless to say, the reindeer decided to fly no matter who was on the sleigh. But Santa was still worried.
The Big Night with Snark
The day before Christmas, Santa was still concerned, but there was too much work to do to dwell on it. He had to make sure the reindeer were well-rested and well-fed, get the sleigh loaded and make any last-minute corrections to his naughty or nice list.
Snark, of course, was no help at all. He slammed the door of the barn, waking all the reindeer two hours early. He spilled the reindeer feed on his way into the barn. He tossed a bag of toys onto the sleigh too hard, knocking the whole thing onto its side. And he erased the computer data base for the seventh time. Before his annual trip, Santa made it his practice to eat a hearty meal to build up his strength for the long night ahead. He had to be powerful to coax his reindeer to fly fast enough to stay with the changing time zones. Otherwise, some children might wind up getting their presents Christmas afternoon and that would never do.
This time, though, Santa had trouble enjoying his meal. Mrs. Claus bustled about, as always, bringing him pot roast and meat loaf and roasted turkey and homemade bread and cherry pie, all the while casting subtle glances at Santa. Finally, she could hold her tongue no longer.
“Santa, you have to tell Snark he can’t go,” she said. “The whole North Pole is in an uproar. The reindeer are terrified. The elves have started a pool to see how many mistakes Snark makes. And you’re a nervous wreck!”
“It’ll work out, Mama,” Santa said, unconvincingly. “It’ll have to.”
Santa Claus finished his dinner, wiped his mouth, brushed his teeth and kissed Mrs. Claus goodbye. She wondered how long it would be before she saw him again.
On his way to the sleigh, Santa stopped and scratched each reindeer behind his ears, as he always did on Christmas Eve (and plenty of other times, too). This time, though he gave each one a little pep talk.
“It’ll be all right, Donder,” he said. “Don’t worry about a thing, Dasher.” “This will be just fine, Cupid.”
Finally, he could delay no longer. Santa climbed into the sleigh and Snark scurried in on the other side, falling out only once in the process. The elves looked grim. The reindeer looked alarmed.
“On Dasher, on Dancer, on Prancer and Vixen,” Santa called and the sleigh rose two inches off the ground.
Santa’s customary cry was broken by a blood-curling scream. He looked to his right and there was Snark, cowering on the floor of the sleigh and trembling from head to toe.
“Take us down, Santa,” Snark hollered. “Take us down, please!”
The sleigh landed with a thump and Snark leaped off, landing face-first in the snow. It was several minutes before he could speak.
“I’m sorry, Santa,” he said, his eyes filling with tears. “I didn’t realize I’d be so afraid to fly! I guess I can’t be assistant Santa after all.”
He looked crestfallen for his loss and embarrassed for bailing out at the last minute.
“I didn’t mean to let you down, Santa,” he almost whispered.
Santa’s worries had passed, as had those of the elves, the reindeer and even Mrs. Claus. “Ho, ho, ho!” he laughed roundly. “Let me down! Why, Snark, you didn’t let me down! In fact, right now, I can’t think of an elf I’m more grateful to than you!”
With that, Santa jumped back into his sleigh and called his reindeer to action. As they rose into the air, he waved jauntily and said, as he always did, “And a merry Christmas to all and to all a good night!”
