The Elf Goblin in... Saving Santa

It was a cold December morning. I opened the front door of my suburban New York home from the inside and the cool Winter breeze hit my hairy ankles. I grabbed my balls to make sure I didn't forget my bathrobe again. Thankfully, I didn't -- otherwise the cops would be called again. I took a deep, powerful smell of the chilly air and proceeded to walk toward my front lawn. The morning paper was laying in the grass. Good thing it hasn't snowed yet, or else the paper would've been soggy. I picked up the paper, which was wrapped in a rubber band. Next door I could hear, see, and smell our neighbor Harold mowing his front lawn. He waved to me as I stepped back inside. I sat at the kitchen table, took a sip of hot chocolate and began reading the morning paper. That's when I immediately noticed the error.
"DATE: DECEMBER 26TH" 
It's the 14th, so obviously this date is incorrect. How would the printing press mess up this badly? The content within the paper itself were complete nonsense. "2ND DAY OF CHRISTMAS: Rogan Way Jr. dies from laughing fit on podcast!" Yeah, right. RJ is still alive and well. This paper is a total nothing burger. I ploy by the media to make us believe whatever garbage they pump out. The last straw was when I flipped to the last page and saw "12TH DAY OF CHRISTMAS: Santa Claus dies after sleigh slams into Empire State Building!" Yeah, forget this crap. I crumbled up the paper and threw it in the trash. "Santa dying? Give me a break." I said to my wife who was in the living room fixing a broken strand of lights on the Christmas tree. 
"I can't wait until this damn holiday is over so we can take down this hideous thing!" she scoffed. "So joyless. Where's the Christmas spirit? See, this is why our marriage is falling apart." "Or maybe because you keep blowing all our money on putting stock in weird devices that never see the light of day? Being in a marriage with you is like being on a sinking ship. And I want out." "Dear, please. It's my job. One of these days those devices will come to market and we'll make bank!"
The next day I repeated the same routine as always. Walk outside in my robe, grab the paper, wave to Harold, step inside, sit at the kitchen table, get nagged by my wife, then read the paper. Thankfully, the paper I got this time wasn't complete rubbish. After that I tuned in to the latest episode of the Rogan Way Jr. podcast. This was a special Christmas episode that was broadcasting live, with the option for viewers to call in. I dialed the number and the operator said I was next in line to talk to Rogan. I couldn't tell if I was shaking in excitement or from the coffee caffeine rush. "Dear, I'm getting ready to talk to Rogan Jr.!" "Of course you are. You love his bald-ass more than you do me." "Hey, at least I have more hair on my balls than he does his entire body. You gotta give me that, right?"
A caller was talking to Rogan about his favorite topics: monkeys and space. "You know what would be funny? If a chimpanzee smoked weed in the same shuttle Neil Armstrong went to the flipping moon with." This sent Rogan into an uncontrollable laughing fit. He laughed so hard that he accidentally he hit his palm on the keyboard and hung up on the caller, meaning I was now on the line. "HA HA... We.. we-- I'm sorry folks - we now have a- HA HA, a new caller on the line!" "Hi, yes, this is Dickly Burns." "WAIT, y-you're serious?" Rogan looked at the caller ID, and yes, that is my actual name. Rogan's laughing fit turned worse. He slapped his knees several times and even his co-hosts were laughing along with him. I was gonna ask him about the upcoming Christmas space project, but he kept -- "HA HA HA DICKLY BURNS, DOES-- does it b-burn when you take a piss, M-Mr. Burns?" 
Rogan gripped his chest tightly and literally fell back in his seat. His chair fell to the ground and his co-hosts rushed over to lift him. He may have hit his head really hard, because he stopped laughing and was unresponsive. They thought Rogan was playing an innocent Christmas prank, but after five minutes of Rogan lifelessly sitting in his chair, they called the podcast off and hung up my call. I was mad. because I really wanted to know what Rogan thought about the Christmas space project. Hours later, it was revealed by the media that Rogan Way Jr. - podcaster, failed astronaut, former zookeeper, and cabbage activist, was dead at 52. He was 52 years old. I tried sending an email to Rogan's publicist to see if he could give me an answer on what Rogan thought of the Christmas space project, but I never got an answer. Well, consider me an ex-fan! 
"What a load of crap. He laughs to death at my name on a live show and he doesn't answer my question!" I ranted to my wife as she put the trash bag in the garbage can outside. "Richly, if I have to take out the garbage one more time I'm filing for divorce!" "it's funny, I remember the paper yesterday said... WAIT, THE PAPER!" I sprung from the kitchen table and accidentally spilled hot coffee on my crotch area. "OW! MY DICKLY BURNS!" ignoring the pain, I rushed outside and began rummaging through the garbage like a starving raccoon on Christmas night. I dumped the whole trash bag on the side of the road, looking for yesterday's paper. "Rich?" Harold said from next door. "Harold! Come over here and help!" Harold adjusted his bathrobe so his junk wasn't exposed and came over to help me dig for trash. "Did your wife throw out your Family Guy Season 10 DVD again?" "Yes, but it doesn't matter! Help me find the newspaper!"
After 30 minutes of digging, I finally found it underneath the trash bag. "Look! Here it is!" I said to Harold. He set down last week's pizza leftovers in the trash and huddled over to see what I've been raving about. "Look at this! Second day of Christmas... Rogan Way Jr. dies from laughing fit." "Yeah, so what? The paper is supposed to report on the news." "No no no, look at the date! December 26th? Hello!" "Rich, are you saying that this is a paper from the future?" "I... I don't know. I guess? Wait what does tomorrow say..." I scanned my finger to the third day of Christmas section. "3RD DAY OF CHRISTMAS: Aset Dildar wins Kazakhstan election!" "Rich, this is very boring. I'm going to take a nap. That garbage pizza's got me feelin' all weird..." I ran back inside with the paper and I was greeted with a note on the kitchen table. "Dickly, if you dig the Family Guy DVD out of the trash one more time I'm getting a di--" you know what the rest says.
The next day, I turn on C-SPAN and see that Aset Dildar -- the underdog of the Kazakhstan election -- had won the race. I.. really do have a newspaper from the future. This is incredible. I wonder how much I can get for it on eBay? I flipped to the next page to see what tomorrow has in store. "4TH DAY OF CHRISTMAS: M.C.D prototype showcase shocks investors!" Hey... That's the device I helped supply parts to and own stock in. If that's true, then I'm gonna be a millionaire! I then flipped to the last page and read the twelfth day of Christmas passage again. "Santa found dead during rare Winter snowstorm in New York City. His sleigh slammed into the 40th floor on Side 1 of the Empire State Building at 5:55 AM, killing him and his reindeer instantly. Mass rioting and looting have taken place, as Santa's death ruins the Christmas of millions. Officials call it the worst American disaster since 9/11. It's safe to say that the spirit of Christmas is dead forever." 
I can't believe this... Imagine living in a world where Santa no longer exists. The world would fall to pieces! I'm the only one who knows about his death too. And I must prevent it. "Dear, I'm gonna save Christmas!" I yelled out, but no response. There was a present with my name on it on the kitchen table. I tore the wrapping paper off, revealing a shirt that said. "MY WIFE LEFT ME." I would usually make a phone call right now, but there are more important things besides me and my wife. 
RING RING! 
Ah, speak of the devil. It's my wife! I pulled my phone out of my pocket and it... wasn't my wife. It was my boss, Dr. Kellen McKeller. "I know you're on Christmas break, Mr. Burns, but you need to come into work tomorrow morning. The Magnetic Claw Device prototype is working like a charm. I've done several testings this week and I think it's ready to be shown!" The paper... it was true once more. "That's great, Dr. McKeller, but can we do it over video call instead? There's something far more important than our little claw device going on." "It must be pretty damn important then, Mr. Dickly, because the potential this prototype has for military and industrial use is limitless!" I paused for a moment. If I want to save Santa and Christmas as we know it, then I need to be at the Empire State Building and somehow prevent Santa from crashing. If the claw is in a functional state, then maybe it could assist me? "You know what Dr. McKeller, I will show up tomorrow. I'll be there early too."
"On the fourth day of Christmas, Santa gave to me--CESH 30 year old Neil McGrath escapes prison for the fourth ti--CESH" I turned off the radio as I pulled in the parking lot of McKeller Industries. After stepping over sludge puddles, I made my way into the building and took an elevator to the demonstration room. "Morning, Mr. Burn Dick." "Morning, Dr. Asshole." I said. "Where's the joke?" McKeller asked. "There is no joke, it's the truth." I replied. McKeller laughed. His mustache looks even grayer with the overcast sky reflecting on his balding head. Standing in the middle of the room was the M.C.D. It was so shiny and pristine looking that it hardly resembled a prototype. I took a seat and bit my tongue -- not wanting to reveal my plan just yet. The room eventually filled up with a dozen-and-a-half investors eager to sit back and watch a revolutionary demonstration. Thanks to the newspaper, I know exactly what is going to happen. 
"Ladies and gentlemen, meet the M.C.D -- a powerful tool that will change the military and industrial industries forever." Dr. McKeller said before showing off the device. The showing went off without a hitch. The claw is attached to a gun with various levers and switches on it to control the length the claw can be fired and held. It's retractable and can even propel you forward to where the claw is latched on at. The claw is a sleek metal in the shape of those seen on claw machines, except more bulky and flexible. It can latch on to metal and steel like a magnet, and the metal rope attached to the claw has microbial produced fibers inside it that can latch on to weights exceeding over 900 lbs. without breaking (you can thank me for supplying that). As soon as everyone left the room, I threw the newspaper on the table. "What's this?" "It's the future." 
Dr. McKeller picked up the paper and began flipping through it. "What is this, some kind of gag?" "No, doctor. I received it on my front lawn a few days ago. Just look! There's a passage detailing what went on in the demonstration even though it just finished minutes ago!" McKeller examined the paper even more. "Alright, you got a newspaper from the future, so what?" "So what?! Look on the last page. Christmas will be no more if we don't prevent Santa's death!" "Well what do you want me to do about it? I stopped celebrating Christmas ages ago. Bah humbug!" "The claw, doctor. We can use it to reach the fortieth floor of the Empire State Building. From there we can... I dunno... Put up a blinking sign that will let Santa know not to ram into the building?" 
"That is the dumbest idea I ever heard of." "Now that I say it aloud... Yeah, kind of. But anything to save Santa!" "Listen Mr. 'My Wife Left Me' -- I'm not gonna risk damaging my only prototype to save some jolly-old fat geezer flying in a reindeer sleigh." "This isn't about you, doctor, this is about American and the world at large. Now stop being a greedy CEO crumblord for two seconds and come to your senses!" "I'll come to my senses when you stop breathing down my ass for two seconds. Now get out of my office!"
I went home and watched my Family Guy DVD (which I dug out of the trash) while eating a tub of ice cream in my underwear. I've accepted that there's no discernible way I can save Santa. Face it, Christmas is ruined. I think I'll let someone else deal with this mess. I took a photo of the newspaper pages and posted them to various social media and online message boards. Within days the "Christmas Newspaper Prophecy" spread like wildfire as each revelation came true as the days went by.
I woke up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat on the 23rd, knowing that Santa is just days away from dying. Thousands of people online say they're gonna show up at the Empire State Building to help prevent Santa's death, but who knows if they can actually prevent it. In fact, Santa might get distracted by all the people huddled around the ESB and that will mark his demise. By posting the newspaper online -- Gosh! What if I'm the one who causes Santa to die? Maybe I can't rely on other people to save Santa. That newspaper showed up on my lawn and not online for a reason. I'm the chosen one here. It is I who needs to save Christmas, not the people. I went to the bank, took out all the money from my wife's savings, and called an Uber for NYC. Six hours later I arrived at Trump Towers.
RING RING!
Oh boy, my wife is gonna blow up in my ear over me draining her savings. "If you'd shave off that upper-lip hair then maybe our marriage wouldn't be so down the gutter!" "Dr. Burns, is all this animosity really over my mustache? Why didn't you say anything years ago!" "Oh shiii-- Dr. McKeller! I'm.. sooo sorry, I thought you were my wife and--" "Enough blabbering Dr. Diddly Dick 5ukka, I just wanted to call and tell you I would've invited you to the investors meeting tomorrow if you weren't being such an egghead about Christmas!" "Santa is going to die tomorrow and you're gonna make this about me?!" 
"I don't care if it the Queen was dying tomorrow, you're not using my one and only M.C.D to go on some little boy adventure to save a fat man that doesn't exist!" "WHY ARE YOU CALLING THEN?!" "To tell you you're gonna miss out on the big bucks tomorrow thanks to your egregious elfness. The M.C.D and the Needle Drone are being showed off!" "I don't care. I have my wife's savings. I'm good on cheddar for a loooong time. So suck me. Sincerely, Dickly!"
I slammed the phone on the bed and peered out the window that overlooked the snowy New York City skyline. In the reflection I could see my poor, poor self and lights illuminating from a Christmas tree in the room. Saving Santa may risk me going to jail, so I'm going to need a disguise to conceal my identity. I took a trip to a local flea market and picked out the perfect outfit: an evil, rubber green elf Halloween mask, a green coat with white stripes on it, a Christmas hat, and metal boot extensions with spikes on them. All I'm missing now is the claw. I picked up my phone and dialed my boss' number through FaceTime. 
"Hello, McDicky? Can't you see I'm stuck in traffic? These kids by Empire State think they're gonna save Christmas because of your little tomfoolery!" "Which street are you on?" "33rd Street. I've been here for 15 minutes but at this rate, it will be 15 hours. I'm just about ready to take out this claw and start manhandling these Christmas goons out of my way!" I hung up the phone and took a subway train toward 33rd Street. 
Dozens of people holding up signs that read "SAVE SANTA!" crowded the street, putting a fork in the already hectic Christmas-time traffic. I scanned around the area for several minutes until I finally came across McKeller's silver Ford mustang in the sea of traffic. Sandwiched between another car, I put on my evil elf mask and kicked in the passenger-side window with my metal spiky boot. I unlocked the door from inside and swung the door open. "Holy Toledo, if supervillains are real then I guess Santa is too!" Dr. McKeller cried. I snatched the metal box containing the claw gun and pried it open, revealing the uber shiny Magnetic Claw Device. The power of the future was in my hands. The future that will save Christmas. 
A few NYPD officers on the sidewalk took notice of my crime and began rushing over toward me. These cops would be crazy to shoot me out here in all this crowded traffic, yet here they are. Out of self-defense, I shot the grappler claw at the officer ready to draw his weapon. The claw shot out with great force and grabbed the officer by the neck. He dropped his gun and put his hands around his neck, trying to free himself from choking to death. But this chump didn't see the presentation. He doesn't know what this death grip is capable of -- that I invested in! I gripped the gun tightly and shoved it to the left, then quickly to the right. This created a violent whiplash that swung the cop into the side of a taxi cab. I was gonna let go of him, until I saw three other officers drawing their weapons in close proximity. 
I took the officer I had in the grip and swung him into the other officers. They all flung back into the windows of a coffee shop, causing the glass to shatter. I didn't want to pity this little piggy anymore, so I unlatched the grip with a lever and retracted the claw back in the gun. At this point people were running out of their cars in fear and the anti-Santa-death protesters scurried away. "This elf cretin has my claw! Someone call the navy and order a drone strike to take out this psycho!" My boss cried. "Not in your wildest dreams, McKeller!" I bellowed in a low, grumbly voice. I aimed the gun at a lamp post and pulled the trigger, latching the claw on the neck of the lamp post. I pressed a button that made the gun propel me to the claw. Since the claw can sustain incredible weight, I traveled in the air by the metal rope and made it to the lamp post. 
Below me were dozens of terrified civilians. I may be acting like a mad man, but I told my pastor on a video call on the way here that God can forgive me later. I'll save Christmas even if it takes terrorizing the city that never sleeps. I pointed the claw and ejected it at a large apartment building, followed by me swinging to the building by the rope. With this device I can scale the entire city as the Christmas Gremlin. Catch me if you can suckers, but Mr. Dickly's gonna save Santa from a tragic death and there's nothing you fools can do to stop me!
"BREAKING NEWS: 'Christmas Cretin' Elf Goblin Terrorizes NYC With Stolen Revolutionary Device!"
On the eleventh day of Christmas was me. Me broadcasted on television channels and videos all over the internet. The Christmas Gremlin is currently the most trending topic in the world right now and I couldn't be more proud. My wife left me and I have no kids, so I have nothing to lose. I've been spending the rest of the day swinging from building to building with the M.C.D. to get the practice in before the big 5'o -- 5:55 AM. The time I prevent Mr. Claus from imminent death. Helicopters have been searching all over the city for me, which is just hilarious. Imagine trying to criminalize someone who's going to save the world. I'll save Christmas and continue stealing the spotlight where ever I go. They hate me now, but one day they will love me. You'll see. 
By 5 AM hundreds of New York City donkers gathered around the Empire State Building in massive droves. Some were protesting the death of Santa, but many of them were protesting me. "ARREST THE CHRISTMAS GOBLIN!" one of the signs read. I pulled out my phone to see what was going on in the news before I save Santa. First thing I see? News report on Fox News demanding that Santa not come to New York City in fears that "The Christmas Goblin will gobble him up." What a joke. "Christmas scrooge Liam McGrath last seen at Trader Joe stealing bag of coal!" Meh, who cares. "Dr. Kellen McKeller vows to take out 'Christmas Goblin' with permission from the city." Take me out with what? I have his grappler gun!
Big spotlights were pointed upwards at the Empire State so Santa could see and know not to hit the building. It's nice to see an American government step in when it's right for once. I checked my phone one last time. 10 minutes remain. I stood on the ledge of a building near the ESB. A helicopter with a bright searchlight was about to pass over me. I took a deep breath, inhaling the freezing NYC air, then quickly exhaling it. I slipped on my elf goblin mask and jumped off the building. I aimed the M.C.D at a helicopter from above, latching on to it's stabilizer bars. I swung by the rope of the gun and landed on a piece of scaffolding on the fortieth floor outside of the ESB. The helicopter traveled down to my level, shining the spotlight on me. "Move out the way! I need to save Santa!" I tried yelling over the loud spinning helicopter blades. Moments later it flew away, probably due to an order from the city. 
As I stood there perched upon this extremely cold metal platform, I began to wonder. How on Earth did Santa slam into this building by mistake? The man managed to stay alive for hundreds if not thousands of years, so why would a massive building that's so easy to see be his demise? Sounds like an inside job if you ask me. "CIA..." I muttered. As soon as I said this, I heard a cough from nearby. I scanned my eyes around from where I was perched and quickly found the answer to my question. On the building opposite from the ESB was a man standing at an open window with a rifle. He was loading it in what appeared to be black rocks. "Oh no you aren't! You aren't gonna JFK Santa!" 
I pointed the M.C.D at the Lee Harvey Oswald wannabe and fire it straight at his throat. I pressed the retracting lever, which pulled the rope back toward me with great force. I had the metal rope with the claw dangle the assassin from the Empire State. "WHO SENT YOU TO KILL SANTA?!" I shouted, but the man wasn't responding because he was choking to death. So I raised him up and unlatched the claw from him, followed by him frantically gasping for air. "WHO. SENT. YOU?!" I demanded again. I gave him a moment to breathe before he answered. "Santa ruined all my Christmases. Gave me coal every year. Now I'm returning the favor." "How about you try staying off the naughty list, you little punk!" "Naughty? Do you know hard it is to stay nice in an abusive household, Mr. Dick Burns?" That's when I realized who it was. It was Liam McGrath. 
I grabbed my mask and ripped it off my face. "Liam I... Why? Why would you want to ruin Christmas for billions of people?" "If Santa's so great and full of kindness, then why doesn't his fat-ass want help kids out like me? He doesn't know the struggle. And he made all of his feel worse because of it. Do you know how many New Years we got bullied at school because we got coal for Christmas? The white upper-class assholes got all the attention. But folks like us? We have enough coal to run a train for centuries. It's about time that fat-ass in red got his punishment due." 
I stopped looking at Liam and glanced at the other building. I saw that his coal sniper was over there. I looked back at Liam and began weeping. "What's wrong, Dick Face?" Liam asked. I sniffled for a second, then answered. "I saved Christmas." Santa didn't ram into the building by mistake. He was hit in the head with coal and it caused him to crash. And I prevented it. Now I'm a free man, free to roam this city with my M.C.D and make it my kingdom.
Thousands of people from below could be heard cheering and making noise. I looked toward the sun-rising morning sky and saw a glimmer of gold glitter fade into view, followed by heartwarming jingling bells of joy. Santa was here. "Ho ho ho! Merrrry Christmas, New York!" his jolly-old voice echoed across the city. Santa was getting ready to fly by where I was standing. "See ya, Liam. It's time for me to have some fun." I said before putting my goblin mask back on. As Santa and his reindeer flew by me, I fired the grappler gun and latched onto the edge of Santa's sleigh. "Oh my gosh! The Elf Goblin is trying to kill Santa!" I heard someone gasp from below. Fools, I'm just going for a ride. Annnd I might climb up and say hi to Santa and tell him I saved his life. So what? 
The golden glitter of the Christmas spirit from Santa's sleigh kept hitting my face, but I didn't mind. It made me feel jolly and full of Christmas, which is the opposite of what my wife felt. But my joy was cut off when I felt something grope my balls. I looked down and saw that Liam was holding on to my leg! No wonder I felt heavier. "You aren't saving Santa this time, McDickly!" I kicked Liam's hand with my left spiky boot, which caused him to slip down, holding on only to my right boot. "Merry Christmas, Liam!" I shouted before stomping my left foot on Liam's hands. He yelped in pain as he let go of his grip and fell below in the New Jersey waters.
I spent the next few minutes gliding across the New York landscape hanging by Santa's sleigh. I'm the only person in the world besides Santa to experience this feeling. I've truly made it in life. But my joy was interrupted once again when I felt a sharp pain in the back of my neck. Moving my left hand to the back of my neck, I pulled out a sharp needle. I looked behind me and saw an incredibly large, fast-moving drone with fancy needle guns attached to it. Wait a sec, that's McKeller's prototype Needle Drone! I pushed a button on the M.C.D that rose me up to the claw and I began climbing my way up Santa's sleigh. I climbed on top of his toy sack, took my mask off, and tapped him on the shoulder. 
"Listen Nick, I hate to bother you right now but my boss' drone is trying to kill me because the entire city thinks I'm a bad guy when I was just trying to save you from being snipped by a lump of coal." Santa looked over his shoulder and gave me the most confused look an old man could give. That's when the Needle Drone rose up and twisted its needle gun canons. "Santa look out!" I dove on top of Santa and shielded him from the barrage of needles. Thankfully I padded the hell out of this ugly Christmas coat, so I didn't feel much pain. "Ho! Here, take control of the reindeer while I fend off this mechanical beast!" Santa said. "But I-- I don't know how to pilot reind--" "Do it, Dick! I believe in you!" Wow... Santa remembers who I am even though he hasn't given me a gift since I was 13 years old. That's incredible.
We were flying high in the clouds as the morning sun rose, creating an orangey landscape with the occasional snow beads flying through the air. I sat in Santa's seat as he climbed on top of his sack and began pelting the Needle Drone with presents from the sack. "He hove!" I shouted as I whipped the deer with the jocky straps. The reindeer did a weird twisty turn at a bizarre angle, which caused Santa to slip off the toy sack. "Huh-ho, huh-HOOO!" Santa cried as he held on to the edge of his sleigh by both hands. "Hang on, Santa!" I picked up the M.C.D and tried aiming it at the Needle Drone, but it was hard to since the reindeer were not sailing smoothly at all. 
The drone began firing dozens of needles at me and the reindeer. I shielded some with my padded forearm, but the reindeer let out whimpers as the needles struck them in the back. Desperate, I pulled the trigger. The claw opened wide and launched forward at the drone, gripping the metal bars sticking out from the bottom. I tried propelling the drone toward me, but the bumpy ride made me press the wrong button -- propelling me toward the drone instead! Realizing my mistake, I pressed the stop button. I was now dangling from the rope beneath the drone. 
"A little help, Santa!" I cried. Santa pulled himself up back onto his sleigh and began sifting through a small brown bag. "Ho! Take this!" Santa pulled out lumps of coal and began assaulting the Needle Drone with them, causing it to sink in the further down in the air. I pulled myself closer to the bottom of the drone, hanging on to the bottom bars with my left hand now. With my right hand, I shot the claw at Santa's sleigh and propelled myself forward, freeing myself from the drone. Santa attacked it with more lumps of coal until it finally spun out of control and crashed into the ocean below. 
I climbed back up on the sleigh, completely out of breath and my heart pounding up in my throat. "Thanks, Big Nick, you saved my life." I said patting Santa on the back. But he didn't respond right away. I noticed he had a bunch of needles piercing his jolly red get-up. He was slumped over, trying to control the reindeer, but he was clearly out of it. "Santa, you okay?" "Blood... Blood sugar low..." "What?! You're diabetic?" I questioned, but he didn't respond. Santa let go of the jocky straps and the reindeer began to lose control. If it stays like this we'll be hurdling into the ocean! 
A big bump in the sleigh caused a black pouch to slip out of Santa's pocket. The sleigh slightly tilted sideways, causing the pouch to slide down the sleigh's seat and hit the corner. The sleigh began tilting even more. I could see the black pouch was about to slip off the corner and land in the ocean. I dove for the pouch. I grabbed it in my hand, but another bump made it slip away from my fingertips. The pouch fumbled against the sleigh and tumbled into the air. Out of pure reaction, I aimed the M.C.D and pulled the trigger. In the nick of time, the claw lunged forward and grabbed the black pouch in a tight grip. 
I pulled the claw toward me and unlatched the pouch. I unzipped it and pulled out a stick of insulin. I lifted Santa's suit up and stabbed him in the side of his belly with it. I sat there for a good minute with my already pounding heart feeling like it was about to explode. PLEASE don't tell me in my quest to save Santa, I inadvertently get him killed. Suddenly, Santa let out a cough and he sprung up, eyes open. He regained controlled the reindeer and he turned the sleigh away from the ocean. "Thanks, Dickly. You saved me. But most importantly... You saved Christmas!" Tears welling in my eyes, I gave Santa the biggest hug imaginable.
We spent the rest of the morning traveling United States, delivering gifts to children all over America. We returned to the North Pole at sunset. "Say Dickly, do you wanna become Santa's number one helper?" I paused for a moment, then nodded. "I've got nothin' to lose. Sure!" "That magnetic claw device there will be a big help. And ho! How could I forget?" That's when Santa pulled out a Family Guy DVD box set from his toy sack.
Best. Christmas. Ever.
Category:Santa Claus
Category:Christmas
Category:Snow/Winter
Category:NYC