Slay

Don't Count your Santas Before Takeoff. Oh, Wait, Maybe You Should...

Some say there is no sight more magnificent than Santa's sleigh in flight. It would make for a lovely Christmas card, rising majestically into the air against a dark backdrop scattered with glimmering stars or a constellation of city lights. The general consensus is that it stops on every rooftop, touching down on gold runners, as light as a snowflake and silent as a dream...

"SEVENTY-TWO! THIS IS FIFTY-THREE TO SEVENTY-TWO, DO YOU READ ME?"

The two other elves in the sleigh winced. "No need to yell, Berry," said one. "We're not even airborne."

His superior, standing at the front of the sleigh, looked momentarily taken aback but ploughed on like a champion. "DURING MISSIONS YOU WILL REFER TO ME AS 'FIFTY-THREE' OR 'CAPTAIN'!"

He pushed his glasses up and gave an exaggerated sigh. "Yeah, sure."

"THAT'S 'YEAH, SURE, CAPTAIN!'"

"Yeah, sure, Captain, Your Royal Highness, Supreme Ruler of the Sleigh, Mister Overlord, Sir. Now can we just get going?"

"REINDEER SECURE?"

Elf Seventy-two leaned back in his seat. "You ought to know, sir, you're the one driving this thing."

"PRESENTS LOCKED AND LOADED?"

He yawned. "Locked and loaded, sir."

Hooves crunched lightly against concrete. Bells tinkled as reindeer huffed and shifted, backing up in preparation for launch. Elf Seventy-two, or, as he was usually known, Noel, peered over the ruby enamel side of the sleigh, not admiring the view as much as thinking what a long way down it was from the top of this apartment.

"You really ought to check, you know," said the third elf, sitting beside him.

At Berry's shouted command, the sleigh began to glide forwards.

"Check what? The presents? They're always there," said Noel. "No need for me to check at every damn rooftop. Why can't Mr. Bossy up and check it himself, huh?"

The captain either did not hear or chose to develop strategic deafness. "LIFTOFF IN THREE... TWO... ONE..."

The sleigh sprang into the air with suspicious lightness. Elves were thrown back against their seats by the resulting jolt. Above the rising rush of air, an observer could have heard the muttered comment "They ought to get the suspension checked, they really should..."

Houses dwindled below them as they left the city of Durban, South Africa, behind. A scintillating tapestry of city lights lay to one side of them; the dark, featureless sea stretched away on the other. The captain yelled into the salty wind, "ON, DASHER! ON, DANCER! ON, PRANCER..."

Noel propped his pointy-toed feet up on the back of the captain's chair. "You'd think he'd name them stuff that didn't rhyme, for once..."

His companion sighed. "I still think we ought to have checked. I just have the feeling that we've forgotten something, y'know?"

"Ah, don't worry," said Noel. "Old Santa won't let anything go wrong."

The terrain sped by underneath them as the light of comprehension dawned.

The elves gasped in unison and began a frantic search of the sleigh. The captain glanced over the side. The third elf peered into the glove box. Noel sprang to his feet, declaring in a tone of incredulous horror:

"We've lost the Fat Man!"