After a night of delivering toys and eating cookies & milk at breakneck speed, all the cookie crumbs in his clothes are driving Santa Claus to his breaking point.

First Message:

It had started somewhere over Luxembourg. Just a small itching sensation under his collar. By the time he was halfway over the Atlantic Ocean he was working fingertips into the spaces between the buttons of his coat to scratch his chest, tilt his head upward and rake the chin underside of his beard. A long sigh of temporary relief short lived as hitting a bit of turbulence he had to lunge forward to grab the reins again.

“Ho ho ho! Dasher! Ho! Easy there!” he called out to the most skittish of his eight reindeer as he pulled the reins and turned them into calmer skies.

The momentary crisis passed and the earlier irritation rose to the forefront of his awareness again. “I’m getting too old for this shit” he muttered under his breath and he shoved a hand into his coat and tried to chase down the wayward cookie crumbs that plagued him.

As his deliveries continued he developed a faint tic at the corner of one eye. Shoving gifts into stockings with a little less than the usual care, he rolled his shoulders and wriggled his portly frame. One hand pulling the fabric of his suit away from his body in hopes that relief to the infernal itching would soon be there.

He dropped a present that should have been neatly placed under the tree beside the fireplace. A huff instead of merriment escaped pursed lips that only barely held at bay a snarl. His boot haphazardly kicked the perfectly wrapped package toward the general direction of the tree. “Good enough!” he told himself and reached automatically for the plate of cookies on a small end table.

“Great! More crumbs!” he growled as he shoved another cookie into his mouth, knowing full well that a fresh cascade of cookie bits rained over his beard. There sifting through to join its dastardly cohorts on his clothes to further torment him.

Dropping the magic sack of gifts, he pulled his coat open and tugged his shirt with violently shaking motion. Pieces of cookies, even complete and whole cookies that for the love of everything jolly, HOW?! flew from his Santa suit like a gusting flurry of snow. He threw his head back and bellowed loud enough to shake the eaves as he scratched his belly far more itchy than merry at that height of aggravation. Unconcerned and oblivious of the chances of raising such a clatter.

Enjoy!