(From Short Humour Magazine: http://www.shorthumour.org.uk/10writersshowcase/santa.htm )
Dear
World,
Boy,
have things ever changed in the toy-delivery field since I started my
career. Remember when people wrote letters to Santa? You didn't expect to get one from me, but here goes
... I need to give you notice of my imminent retirement. I used to
deliver a sleigh-full of dolls, teddy bears, train sets, roller
skates and pencil sets on every magical Christmas Eve. (Pencils! Can
you imagine?) But no more. Gifts have gone electronic. It's all
game-boxes now, and fit-bits, gift cards and peculiar little digital
devices that fall to the floor and get lost at the bottom of the
sleigh.
I used
to be able to park right beside the chimney I would be slipping down. Now there are few chimneys left, only “smart heating” and roofs
cluttered with solar panels. Last year, one sported a poster saying
“REINDEER SLEIGHS EXPLOIT UNGULATES”.
Some
houses even have notes on theirs roofs warning “mask is mandatory”.
A mask, over a beard like mine?! No one needs a mask if they're
already muffled by a deep thicket of white facial hair.
I used
to find thoughtful treats like cookies and warm milk waiting for me
beside people's hearths, but now everything they leave is stuff I'm
scared to eat, like Guatemalan Keto Shark-free Spice Balls, and
Dirty-Snowman Vegan Nut-free Kumquat Squares. And whatever happened
to a nice cup of tea? Now I find a note advising me there's a
Pomegranate Gingerbread Iced Latte in the fridge, or a
Jagermeister-Curcumin Espresso Shot in the microwave.
And no
one's decently in bed taking their long winter nap while I lurk in
their living rooms; they're all hunkered down with smartphones and laptops. I
see the light from their digital devices glowing at windows and
under doors. Even the kids aren't asleep, dreaming about what might
be in their stockings while visions of sugar plums dance in their
heads. They're texting their friends from under the covers.
No:
Christmas Eve isn't what it was when I started out, apprenticed to
Great-grandfather Claus. Nor is the elf staff! Not one knows how to
wield a hammer and nail. The North Pole is
all immigrants and refugees now and many don't speak English. Some elves are illiterate and can't even
write the lists I need, so I can't check them twice. Luckily every
kid wants the same thing anyway: digital stuff. High-tech robotic
amazon wares. I might as well retire, I'm beginning to feel, and
be replaced by a drone. I'm just not as jolly as I used to be. I
guess drones do go further and move faster than anything a bunch of
reindeer would pull. They're much more efficient ... So,
Tallyho-ho-ho, drones!
Still, I
can't help thinking something magical is being lost.
Yours
truly,
Old
Man in a Red Suit
