The Magic of Christmas

‘We’re in trouble,’ the Chief Elf stated to the Elf Council. ‘This is the last day of applications and we only have one applicant.’

‘Why are we in trouble?’ asked Cedric, the Union Spokes-Elf, ‘the rules quite clearly state, in the event of only one applicant, he should be installed in the position of Santa without formality.’

‘I agree,’ the Chief Elf said shaking his head, ‘but the applicant is only forty-five, married, and he has children of his own still living at home. Both those aspects rule him out of contention. Santa must be over fifty-five and have no dependent children. That is also in the rules.’

‘Does it matter?’ asked Santa John. ‘If he is the wrong one, the Christmas magic won’t work for him, and if he is the right one, then we have little say in the matter as you all know.’

‘With respect Santa John,’ the Chief Elf replied, ‘I fear that something must have gone wrong with the selection process, and the magic has been corrupted.’

‘Chief,’ Santa replied jovially, ‘I think you worry too much for no reason. I feel no disruption or negative influence in the magic. Interview the man, I will come with you and as you know, if he is the right candidate the magic will automatically transfer from me to him. If it does you fret over nothing.’

‘I suppose you’re right Santa, but I don’t like it,’ the Chief Elf said glumly, ‘Is there any other business or questions?’ he asked the meeting.

‘Just one,’ Cedric said jumping to his feet. ‘Where is the proposed new Santa from? My members will require overtime rates if we have to learn a new language.’

‘You say that every time we have a new Santa,’ the Chief Elf retorted, ‘even though all your members can speak English, German, French, Spanish, Portuguese, Finnish, Norse, Swedish, Italian, Hungarian, Russian and Polish fluently.’

‘You forgot Dutch,’ Cedric responded without concealing his disgust at the apparent slight to his members in leaving out this minor detail. ‘I only ask as the new Santa may come from Algeria or Israel and no one knows those languages.’

‘He is English, from the City of Liverpool,’ the Chief Elf said waving his arm in dismissal.

‘I’ve been there.’ The young secretary Elf said with a smile. ‘All the people are nice and friendly so the new Santa should be too.’

‘Liverpool has a terrible reputation.’ The Union Elf said after a moment’s thought. ‘I think my members deserve danger money if they have to work with a Scouser’

‘How do you know that?’ The Chief Elf asked in disgust. ‘You haven’t left this place in over four hundred years.’

‘Yes well I had a nasty experience the last time I was in the human world. Besides I’ve seen the television programs,’ the Union Elf replied seriously, ‘they all talk funny in Liverpool and I have revived my demand for overtime rates, we’re all going to have to learn the Liverpool dialect at least.’

‘Ridiculous,’ the Chief Elf said shaking his head. ‘I find it hard to believe that no one here will be able to understand someone who speaks English.’

‘Wait until you interview your candidate,’ Cedric laughed, ‘then tell me you understand what he says.’

‘Secretary,’ Santa John said turning to the pretty green-haired young Elf girl. ‘Please send the candidate a letter inviting him to interview. If you send it Santa mail he should receive it later today and we can have the interview next Monday. Book rooms in a local hotel for the afternoon. I suggest we leave this matter of a language allowance until after the interview.’

******

The last thing Travis McGee expected after so long, was a letter arriving inviting him for an interview for the stupid job he had applied for when he was in Rosie’s bad books. His look of abject horror had concerned Rosie as she watched him open the letter, and fearing some extremely bad news, she snatched it from him, thus preventing what his immediate thoughts had been, i.e., to burn the letter before she knew anything about it.

‘Macca this is wonderful,’ he heard her say through shocked nerves and senses. ‘I never thought you were serious, you know about turning over a new leaf, oh Macca, thank you.’

‘Erm, no sweat love,’ he muttered as his sense of survival kicked in. ‘I’m just a bit shocked that they even considered me for the job, never mind get as far as the interview stage.’

‘Macca, I’m so proud of you,’ she oozed, as he made hurried plans in his head on how to avoid the interview. He would get himself ready, leave the house and disappear to the other side of town for the day, telling Rosie he had attended but failed the interview. ‘I don’t know what to say,’ she continued, love shining from her eyes as she spoke, ‘I’ll come with you, and after the interview, we’ll go out and celebrate.’

‘You can’t do that,’ he said, panic welling again, ‘How do you think I’m going to get a job if I take me missus to an interview with me? Hell girl, I’ll get laughed at all the way home.’

‘Oh Macca stop being so daft,’ she smiled at him. ‘I won’t come in with you, I’ll wait outside.’

‘OK,’ he said after a moment’s thought realised that all was still not lost, relief washed through him. He would attend the interview, but make a complete fool of himself and fail it. Rosie would still be impressed, and he still wouldn’t have to work. A brilliant plan he thought smiling.

Monday came, and the morning dragged by. Travis swore time had stopped as he nervously made ready for his first job interview since he was sixteen and a half years of age. Dressed in his Sunday best suit, the one that only came out at weddings and funerals, he and Rosie jumped the one o’clock bus into town, and entered the Adelphi Hotel at one forty-five. He parked Rosie in the bar to wait for him, and went to the door of suite 399. Apprehensive and about to knock, the door silently swung open of its own accord to show three people inside, all sitting behind a large table with a chair, presumably for him, opposite.

Nervously and without a word, he strolled to the table noting the people behind it; the door closed softly behind him.

‘Please Mr McGee be seated,’ the old gent in the middle said with a beaming smile, indicating the vacant chair. As he sat, Travis looked again at the people opposite. Something was strange about them. The old gent in the middle was familiar to the point he thought he knew him from somewhere, but he couldn’t quite place him. The other two just looked odd, with the female to the old man’s right especially, having a sickly green hue to her skin, and hair, that made Travis feel decidedly unwell.

‘We are pleased to tell you,’ the old gent said with a beaming smile that heightened the redness in his cheeks, ‘that after careful consideration the job is yours.’

‘What!’ Travis said, his eyes widening with shock. His mouth went bone dry, his heart pounded with horror, and stress made the sweat break out on his brow. The surprise made his mouth hang open, and the disgust of being offered a job swept through him, reducing his reasoning capability to that of a newly hatched budgie.

‘Yes,’ the green haired horror to the right of the old man beamed as she spoke, ‘may I be the first to offer you our congratulations and welcome you to our small but happy family. We all look forward to working with you, and we feel sure our relationship will be a long and fruitful one.’

‘Chief,’ Santa John said before a horrified Travis could respond to the nightmare unfolding before him. ‘Perhaps you could enlighten Mr McGee to his duties while he seems to be so taken aback with the good news we gave him.’

‘With pleasure,’ the Chief Elf beamed. ‘Mr McGee I am delighted to tell….’

‘Just hang on one cotton-picking minute!’ Travis exploded in a thick Scouse accent, the speed and nasal tone making his words almost unintelligible to the confused Chief Elf. ‘Who said I wanted the job? To be honest mate the way you lot have pushed this on me makes me think there’s something wrong with it somewhere, and I’m not working for no dodgy outfit.’

‘What did he say?’ Santa John asked the Chief Elf, both perplexed at the accent.

‘Erm,’ replied the Chief, still recovering from the shock of being interrupted while he was speaking. ‘I’m not totally sure Sir,’

‘He thinks we are trying to compromise him Sir,’ the secretary smiled. ‘You were warned about the accent.’

‘Look mate,’ Macca said getting to his feet. ‘I don’t really want the job, I only applied cos I wanted the missus off me back, and I’m only here now cos she’s sitting downstairs waiting for me. I’ll just say thanks but no thanks and wish you all well.’

‘Please Mr McGee,’ the secretary said stopping Travis in his tracks. ‘Let the Chief explain what the position is before you make any rash decisions. I think you will find the prospect we offer somewhat unusual and very rewarding.’

Two words, very and rewarding cut like a knife through Travis’s resolve to walk out, pound signs flooded his imagination, and against all his natural instincts, he slowly sat down again.

This better be good,’ he said simply, ‘I’m all ears, so gerron with it.’

‘He said go ahead Chief,’ the secretary said trying not to laugh at the Chief’s look of total incomprehension.

‘Perhaps,’ the Chief replied to her, ‘it may expedite matters if you would give Mr McGee a brief resume of what will be required of him. You seem to understand him a bit better than I, although I fail to see how that is.’

‘I’ve spent many a holiday here Chief,’ she smiled sweetly at him. ‘The night life is brilliant, especially around Mathew Street on a Friday and Saturday nights, although some of the taxi drivers leave a lot to be desired. I usually stay on the outskirts of the city in Huyton or over the water in the Wirral, the rail system makes it easy to get into the city and….’

‘The job secretary,’ the Chief Elf said in an exasperated tone. ‘You can give me the story of your holidays later.’

‘Sorry Chief,’ the secretary said suddenly sombre from the Chief’s chastisement. ‘The position Mr McGee requires you to be in overall control of the collection and distribution of, erm, items, erm, mainly at Christmas. You will have a, erm, number of people to help you, but the position requires extensive travel.’

‘Come on girl,’ Macca smiled at her. ‘You’re hedging your bets love, trying to sell me the idea without telling me anything. Out with it, or I’m walking, just what the hell are you people trying to put over on me, and come to that, who the hell are you anyway?’

‘Can you understand him?’ the Chief Elf asked Santa John as he sat bemused by his new Boss.

‘A little if he speaks slowly. Please Mr McGee,’ Santa John asked in response to the Chief. ‘Could you speak a little slower; the Chief is having enormous trouble trying to understand you?’

‘Why, what’s the matter with him, is he deaf?’ Travis asked in reply. ‘Never been asked to speak slower before; are you sure you’re not trying to make me sound like a halfwit?’

‘I give up,’ the Chief said slumping back in his chair.

‘Good,’ the secretary muttered under her breath, but not quite quiet enough that Santa John did not hear her. He turned, about to remonstrate with her, but seeing the cold look in his eyes she hastily blurted to Travis. ‘Mr McGee, the job you successfully applied for was for the vacant position of Santa Claus.’

‘Santa Claus,’ Travis stated with raised eyebrows. ‘Yeah, at which shop? Sorry, but I think you lot are taking the Mick, and it’s gone on long enough. Who put you up to it?’ he asked with a smile, ‘Rosie?’ he replied to his own question, ‘or our Peter? Good one though, you had me going there for a minute.’

‘No Mr McGee,’ the secretary said unsmiling. ‘Not a store Santa, the real one, Santa John sitting next to me retired last Christmas and we have just completed the process of finding his replacement.’

‘It takes some getting used to,’ Santa John smiled at him, ‘but I’m here to help for the next six months so there is nothing to be concerned about.’

‘You people are good,’ Travis smiled. ‘Even when I’ve caught you bang to rights, you still keep a straight face. Come on, games over, who set me up? And where’s the camera?’ he began looking about the room.

‘Camera, what camera?’ the secretary asked puzzled.

‘Let it go girl,’ Travis replied, still smiling ‘You know what camera, that tele program, can’t remember the name off the top of my head; it’s the one that sets you up in funny situations like this. Ha, I bet you don’t show that bit on the tele.’

‘I’m sorry Santa John,’ the secretary said, ‘but he thinks we’re making a fool out of him for a television programme. I don’t know what to do.’

‘Mr McGee,’ Santa snapped at Travis making him lose his smile. ‘I assure you sir that you are now the real deal Santa Claus. The Christmas magic has been transferred to you Sir, and it is now yours to command. If you disbelieve me, try it!’

‘Christmas magic, oh come on!’ Travis sneered jovially. ‘I tell you mate, I’m not falling for it. Are you on a bonus if you get me to believe you because you’re really pushing this for all its worth.’

‘He still thinks we are trying to fool him.’ The secretary interpreted.

‘Try it Santa,’ Santa John said quietly. ‘You wish for anything to do with Christmas, you don’t have to speak if that’s how you think we will make a fool of you, all you have to do is imagine something in your own mind and it will happen. A Christmas tree for example; think of a tree in this room, decorate it as you wish and place it anywhere in this room you feel fit. If it doesn’t appear, then you can walk out without any more questions or argument from us.’

Travis didn’t believe him, but he imagined the fun that a small Christmas tree sitting on the head of the miserable Chief would bring, and despite his reluctance to accept what the so-called Santa John had said, he conjured in his head a small tree, only eighteen inches high with baubles, winking lights and a fairy on the top, all perched on the head of the of the miserable little Chief slumped in his chair.

The Chief shot to his feet screaming, Santa John looked at the outraged Elf and started to snigger. The secretary could not contain herself as she let out a huge belly laugh that wasn’t helped by the antics of the now, almost purple with rage Elf, dancing around the room with a fully decorated Christmas tree stuck to his head while screaming at Travis to get it off.

Travis was struck with utter amazement and disbelief. He still fostered thoughts of being on Candid Camera, but the tree on the outraged Elf was correct to the smallest detail of how he had imagined it. It was at least a minute before the full realisation sunk in, a minute that had the secretary laughing so hard she was doubled over with tears in her eyes. Santa John spent the time laughing too, not as hard as the secretary but enough to keep him from speaking. The Chief, after the initial shock of finding the tree in its most unwelcome position just stood and glared at Travis, while the sight of this comical episode eventually invaded Travis’s mental turmoil, causing him to begin laughing along with the secretary and Santa John.

The Chief Elf was not pleased. An Elf of his position had to command respect from others, and here he was, being laughed at, because the ingrate idiot who was to be the next Santa, was laughing at him along with a subservient secretary Elf, and his former boss and supposed friend. No one in the room it seems could contain themselves at his sorry looking plight, a situation he found far from acceptable as he stood nose in the air trying desperately, despite the flashing lights wrapped around a Christmas tree on his head, to maintain his dignity.

‘I do not find this amusing,’ the Chief Elf stated frostily, his words sending the secretary Elf into another laughing frenzy while Santa John near choked trying to suppress his merriment. ‘Mr McGee, Santa. Will you please remove this from my person; immediately?’ He snapped in frustration, and was heartily relieved when Travis dismissively waved his hand at him removing the weight of the abomination from his head. ‘Thank you,’ he gave a curt nod of his head and sat down again awaiting the return of sanity to his colleagues.

‘My, erm, apologies,’ Travis said still smiling, ‘I truly didn’t mean for that to happen, it just sort of appeared if you know what I mean.’

‘Your apologies might be acceptable if they were delivered with some form of sincerity, and not with a grin on your face,’ the Chief Elf replied moodily. To which the young secretary once more sniggered, placing her in danger of being overcome by another laughing extravaganza at the Chief’s expense. However, her salvation, came when Santa John intervened.

‘Enough,’ he said, scolding her. ‘Mr McGee, perhaps now you believe what we are saying to you?’

‘Well yeah,’ Travis replied as the realisation of what had happened began to sink into his befuddled mind. ‘But you’ve got to understand, I don’t want the job, I’d be the laughing stock of the pub.’

‘I’m sorry you feel that way,’ Santa John replied, ‘because like it or not, you are now the new Santa Claus. The Christmas magic only transfers to the person who is eligible for the position. We, Santa Travis, have no say in the matter.’

‘I’m not doing it,’ Travis stated flatly. ‘You can’t force me to do it, so stuff the magic where the sun doesn’t shine.’

‘Did he say he wasn’t doing it?’ The Chief Elf asked. ‘You have no choice in the matter,’ he said answering his own question, while smiling evilly, seeking retribution for the tree on the head. ‘If you don’t work with the magic, the magic will work against you until you decide to comply with it. You will become ill Santa Travis, very ill. Every day you refuse to accept the duties you have to perform as Santa you will become sicker and sicker until by mid-October you will most certainly die. It is not a nice death.’ he finished with an smile that looked more like a grimace.

The Chief’s words shook Travis to the core. He felt ill as it was, just the thought of having a job was enough to do that, but to be told if he didn’t do it he would die filled him with abject terror, not of dying, but working. Santa John looked at Travis with compassion, after all, he was a Santa and as such compassionate and jolly. To see another Santa in such a distressed frame of mind was unthinkable.

‘Travis,’ he smiled at him. ‘Believe me, once you start work you will love the job.’

‘Yeah, I bet,’ Travis growled as he furiously thought of ways to get out of the predicament he was in. He needed to know more he decided, information might give him the key to figuring a way out of this mess. ‘Tell me what I’ve got to do,’ he said quietly and with a hint of resignation in his voice.

‘The first thing will be for you to move into your new home in the Arctic,’ The Chief Elf said, ‘You and your wife will be extremely comfortable there as the accommodation has all the modern conveniences needed, and what is not there can be provided by the Elves, they will do whatever is needed, that includes all the cooking and cleaning, you have your job to do, the Elves have theirs.’

‘And there’s your first problem,’ Travis smiled. ‘Rosie won’t move from where we are. I’ve tried for years to get her to move, but she refuses to budge because all her mates live close by; and what about my girls? Where are they going live? I can’t see them being happy living with Elves, especially our Sue, she just got engaged.’ He sat back smug thinking he had found his escape route.

‘You forget the Christmas magic Travis,’ Santa John smiled at him. ‘Rosie does not have to physically move home. She will have to help you, especially as Christmas nears, and she will be required, as will you, to sleep in the Christmas Village. Only in work time of course. In the six months of your stand down time, you will only have to sleep in the village about one night a week, but remember, home is only a doorway away. A door in your bedroom will act as a conduit between your present home and your home in the Arctic.’

‘What about the girls?’ Travis countered, panic beginning to set in once more.

‘They can travel back and forth as long as they have you or Mrs Claus with them,’ the Chief’s smile grew even wider as he noted Travis’s quickness to grasp at the smallest of straws attempting to wriggle out of his new position. ‘Your eldest daughters’ fiance however, will be barred until such time as she marries him. One word of caution, neither you nor any of your household who are privy to your new position, will be able to talk about it to any person, not already aware of who you are, that includes family and any person who may overhear your conversation if this matter is raised. The only people you can tell will be your immediate family and they can tell no one else.’

‘OK,’ Travis said shaking his head the feeling of being trapped in a never-ending nightmare growing by the second. ‘What else?’

‘Contractually, you don’t have to start work until the first of July, but ideally, you should begin this year as soon as possible but certainly no later than the beginning of June. You have to get to know the reindeer and how to handle the magic that makes the reindeer and sleigh fly.’

‘Fly!’ Travis nearly shouted. ’Oh no, sorry, I don’t care what the magic will do me, you’re not getting me off the ground. I’ve never flown in my life, never even been inside an ‘airyplane, so you’re definitely not getting me up there on a sledge.’

‘You have no choice.’ The Chief Elf stated with the wicked smile of someone who has just enjoyed the pleasure of a forbidden chocolate bar. ‘You will fly Santa Travis; I shall take great pleasure in making sure you do.’

‘You’re so smug,’ Travis snapped at him, ‘but you’re forgetting one thing mate, Rosie. I told you before she won’t move. She’s has a small job in the kitchens at LIPA, which she won’t give up because she rubs shoulders with all the big stars. Don’t expect me to tell her mate, you can do it; see how far your smile gets you then.’

‘It will be my pleasure Santa Travis,’ the Chief said. ‘When you go home, you will find the doorway to the Christmas Village in your bedroom; when you are ready simply walk through it, and take Mrs Claus with you.’