The Doctor Of War ³

Last Christmas

It is the day before Christmas in Clara's new home, with a staircase and front door. All the decorations are up and snow can be seen through the windows. A crash and a sudden heavy fall of snow past the bedroom window wakes Clara.

"Argh! Moron! Numbskull! Elf!"

"That's racist!"

"Of course it's not racist, you are an elf" Clara gets out of bed, puts on a dressing gown and opens the door onto the flat roof. There are wrapped presents and small orange fruit scattered all around. Three figures are looking at a sleigh standing on its end "chimneys?"

"I'm sorry!"

"I'm just checking that you can see these massive chimneys."

"I, er, they, they're hard to miss."

"Well, as you've clearly demonstrated, Ian."

"Donner! Donner and Blitzen. Come on down. Down here, boys" the three are flying around, bells jingling on their harness, and one has a glowing red nose "good boys, good boys. Good boy. Rudolph?"

"Just, just clear all the tangerines up. Pick 'em up. All of them, Ian."

"You know no one really likes the tangerines, don't you?" Ian asks.

"How dare you! That's my signature gift. That and the walnut."

"Down here, boys, come on. Come. Rudolph?" Wolf has his name embroidered on the back of his jacket. Ian looks up from gathering tangerines.

"Er, sir? We've been seen" Ian says.

"Hello."

"Hello" Clara replies with a raised eyebrow.

"Hello, ha ha!" Wolf laughs.

"Hello, human" Ian says.

"You can't call her human" Wolf whisper-shouts.

"It's not racist. They don't mind."

"Hush up, both of you. Oh, sorry about this, girl. We are just three passing, perfectly ordinary roof people, doing some emergency roof things. Carry on. Merry Christmas. If, if it is Christmas, I mean. Heh, heh. I don't much care for things like that, myself. Pfft. I mean, Christmas."

"Are you Santa Claus?" Clara asks.

"Me? No. Oh, no. It's ridiculous. Heh, heh. No, no, no" Santa says, just as the reindeer fly past behind him.

"Rudolph! Rudolph! Down here now!" Wolf shouts.

"All right, fine, yes. Yes, it's me. Ha! Guilty. How did you recognise me?" Santa asks.

"You know how you grew that beard as a bit of a disguise? People have picked up on it" Wolf replies.

"Ok. No. Hang on. Stop. Shut up. What? Seriously, you, you're Father Christmas. You're real" Clara says.

"Of course, I'm real."

"How could he not be real?" Wolf asks.

"Huh? How do you think those presents got under the tree every year? By magic?" Santa asks.

"Well, I thought it was my mum and..." Clara gets cut off by the two elves.

"Mum and Dad?"

"Ho, ho!"

"Well, of course, it was" Ian replies.

"I mean, it makes perfect sense" Wolf adds.

"Yeah, your mum and dad, one day a year, for no particular reason, just out of the blue, suddenly decide to give you a great, big pile of presents," Ian says.