Well, another day of madness here at Chez Santa. We took the sleigh out for her last minutes safety checks – big night tomorrow – and after a couple of hours fiddling me and Frosty managed to get my present from the missus fitted. She moaned a bit at first about me opening it early, but in the end agreed it was stupid for the sake of a few hours – especially as I wouldn’t really get another chance to use it until this time next year. So Sat-Nav fitted, off we set for a couple of turns around the block. I’ve got to say, the old girl still handles like a dream even if she does tend to wobble a bit these days (the sleigh, I mean, not the missus, but if the cap fits ;)…). Grease her nipples and clear her pipes occasionally and she goes like a rocket (see previous brackets :))
Anyway, no sooner are we up than I hear this strange moaning noise beside me. At first I thought it was Frosty having another one of his turns (brain-freeze. Goes with the territory for snowmen, I’m afraid; permanent ice-cream headache), but when I looked around I saw this furry green arm wrapped around his neck and a pistol jammed into his lughole. One false move, and the snowman gets it, growled this sharp, nasty little voice, and I realised it was that Grinch fella from the Pitch ‘n’ Putt the other day. Well I tell you, I’m glad I had my old work suit on and not the new one. I’ll let the missus have a go at it before I take it to the dry-cleaners. I almost had a heart attack on the spot. Frosty was bricking it too; his big round irises were shuttling back and forth in his head like he was watching a tennis match. The sweat was pouring off him – which is damned dangerous when you’re 99.9% water. Then I twigged what he was trying to tell me, and relaxed a bit.
I flew the sleigh around for a while, just nodding along in agreement as the green nutter ranted and raved his demands, slowly making my way ever higher up into the really cold atmosphere and watching all the time for Frosty’s signal. Finally he nodded his head, and I threw the wheel hard right and rolled the sleigh over onto her roof. Luckily all the prezzies were strapped in, and so were me and Frosty thanks to the seat belt regulations of 1967, but the Grinch bloke had no such protection. He tried to fire a couple of parting shots as he tumbled away from us, but the gun mechanism was frozen solid. I tell you, Starsky and Hutch could learn a lot from Frosty and me.
We found him half an hour later, his green legs thrashing wildly in the air as he struggled to free himself from the snow drift he had landed in. We took him to the local nick and he’s now safely locked up until Boxing Day. Turns out he’s well known for it in his hometown; causes trouble every Christmas trying to ruin it for everyone. He had decided this year to nobble things at source – i.e. me – but he hadn’t bargained for my quick wits or the inclement weather in this neck of the woods. Still, better watch my back next year; he doesn’t sound the type to let sleeping Santa’s lie…