Merry Christmas !

I have the tradition of writing a Christmas & New Year’s short story every year, as a season greeting to friends, acquaintances and other suspects. This year it’s a bit more than just ONE story…

  I’m of course inspired by Raymond Queneau’s classic Exercises in Style. It’s a wonderful little book, where the he retells the same story in 99 different ways. As my exercises are (mostly) in English I decided to do 25 variations, since the Anglo-Saxon Christmas is on the 25th. (In Sweden it is the 24th, incidentally).

  Hairy X-Ray & A Snappy Brew Jar to you! As my spellchecker insists it’s called…

P.S. And if your not too full of eggnog or mulled wine, stuffed turkey or mustard ham, please tell me what you think of my attempts below! And if on Twitter, follow @SFJournalen!

(To my Swedish readers: Detta går också på SKRIVA-listan, där det kan dyka upp fler varianter av storyn och eventuella kommentarer. Gå med genom att mail skriva-request@freelists.org med ämnesrad/subject “subscribe” om du är intresserad.)

As air safety is a concern for the most popular aviator of the season, FAA has sent an inspector to the North Pole to check Santa Claus’s sleigh before allowing him to fly on Christmas Eve.  There have after all been many air crashes lately.

  The inspector checked the reindeers and they looked to be in good shape. The harnesses looked fine. He  checked the sleigh and it seemed perfectly air-worthy.

  “Only one thing remains, Mr Claus”, he said to the corpulent white-bearded man beside him.  “We must have a test flight. If that goes well, you’ll have your air-worthiness certificate.”

  Santa’s elves connected the reindeers. Santa and the inspector boarded the sleigh and taxied up the icy runway. But just as he’s ready to take off Santa glances at the inspector and to his amazement notices he has a put a big, loaded rifle in his lap.

  “Hey! You don’t have to be afraid of polar bears here!” Santa yells as the reindeers pick up speed.

  “It’s not that, Mr Claus”, the inspector says. “The test must be realistic. I think it would be a good idea to see what happens if we have an engine failure on takeoff.”

North Pole’s Santa must go through a safety test

The Inspector thinks things are at their very best

  But we can’t take it light

  We need a test flight

What if we would with your engines mess?

Då flygsäkerhet är av vikt för helgens popläraste flygare, har luftfartsverket sänt en inspektör till nordpolen för att kontrollera Jultomtens släde innan han får lov att flyga på julafton. När allt kommer omkring har det varit många flygolyckor på sistone.

  Inspektören kollade renarna och de verkade var i god form. Selarna såg bra ut. Han kontrollerade släden och den verkade fullständigt flygvärdig.

  “Det återstår bara en sak, hr Tomte,” sade han till den korpulente vitskäggade mannen bredvid sig. “Vi måste göra en testflygning. Om den går bra får du ditt luftvärdighetscertifikat.”

  Tomtenissarna kopplade på renarna. Jultomten och inspektören bordade släden och taxade uppför den isiga startbanan. Just som han var redo att starta sneglade Jultomten på inspektören och noterade att han hade ett stort, laddat gevär i famnen.

  “Hallå! Du behöver inte vara rädd för isbjörnar här”, skriker Jultomten medan renarna ökar farten.

  “Det handlar inte om det, hr Tomte”, säger inspektören. “Testen måste vara realistisk. Jag tycker det skulle vara en bra idé att se vad som händer om vi tappar en motor under start.”

As safety is of importance for the weekend’s most popular aviator, aviation has work late one inspector to the North Pole to check Santa’s sleigh before he was allowed to fly on Christmas Eve. After all, there have been numerous aviation accidents lately. The inspector checked the reindeer and they seemed in good shape. The harnesses looked good. He checked the sled and it seemed completely airworthy. “It remains only one thing, Mr. Gnome,” he said til the corpulent vitskäggade man next to her. “We have to do a test flight. If it goes well, you get your airworthiness certificate.” Santa’s elves linked to reindeer. Santa Claus and the inspector boarded the carriage and taxied up the icy runway. Just as he was ready to start glanced Santa Claus on the inspector noted that he had a large, loaded rifle arms. “Hey! You do not need to be afraid of polar bears here,” shouts Claus reindeer while speeding up. “It’s not about that, Mr. Santa Claus,” said the inspector. “The tests have to be realistic. I think it would be a good idea to see what happens if we lose an engine during starting.”

I know that air safety is important, but did the FAA inspector really have to come today, when I’m so busy? Well, this far he seems satisfied, with my sleigh, the reindeers, with everything. But the inspector caught me with surprise when he added:

  “Only one thing remains, Mr Claus.  We must have a test flight. If that goes well, you’ll have your air-worthiness certificate.”

  I sighed. This is new compared to last Christmas. New regulations I guess. Nothing else to do than to get the elves to hook up the reindeers.

  I showed the inspector where he could sit and began taxiing along the icy runway when I noticed one thing. The inspector brought out a big gun which he put in his lap. What was that good for? The polar bears around here are my buddies and quite harmless.

  “Hey! You don’t have to be afraid of polar bears here!” I exclaimed, as our vehicle was picking up speed. I pointed to the gun.

  “It’s not that, Mr Claus”, the inspector said. “The test must be realistic. I think it would be a good idea to see what happens if we have an engine failure on takeoff.”

There was something fishy going on. From where did Mr Claus get all his dough? I had to go undercover as an “inspector” for the Federal Aviation Administration. Silly, I know! But if I had much of an imagination I wouldn’t be a private dick.

  The last man on the North Pole sat alone in a room.

  I knocked on the door. Hard. I had knuckles that could take it.

  “Ho-ho-ho. Come in!” a jovial voice exclaimed.

  I trampled in. Mr Claus would be easy to shadow, if needed, as he was all dressed up in red, like the traffic lights I used to ignore when chasing who’d stole candy from a kid or done something even worse. He offered me some eggnog, which I greedily downed in one gulp. I then explained my business, from my cover story: gotta inspect your sleigh and everything – purely routine, and all that. If you flash a brass toy shield you picked up in Macy’s some people will believe anything.

  “You can’t dash around in the sky without an air worthiness certificate,” I snapped. “It makes people nervous.2

  Reluctantly he agreed. What was it with all those “ho-hos”? Did he have some unusual throat condition or what? I helped myself to some more eggnog. Great stuff, that! Smooth for the throat.

  While Mr Claus called for his hired underlings to make everything ready, I had a god look around in the facilities. No secret printing press for greenbacks, just a lot of toys. And a giant stack of mail. Maybe he ran an extortion racket by correspondence?

  “This far everything looks dandy,” I said. “But we have to do a test run, just to be sure. Just routine. Regulations, you know.”

  The vehicle didn’t look promising. I’d rather have my turbo-charged old Chevy, but since I claimed to be her to inspect that jalopy contraption I had to risk it. I’ve been in much worse jams, like when I investigated those crooked election officials in Lafair county and…

  Mr Claus sighed. He showed me a seat. No safety belt, I noted. But my motto was after all live fast and die young. Besides, I have had my air sickness medicine. Eggnog is bravery in a bottle.

  “OK. A test flight – ho-ho!” Mr Claus said and put the sleigh in motion along the icy runway. “But just a short one. We must think of the children…”

  Children! That’s it. Poor kids. My eggnog-drenched brain reacted. Mr Claus got his cash from running a paedophile ring! This would be my last sleigh ride if he suspected I was on to him…

  I pulled my gun.

The Three Laws of Reindeerics

1. A reindeer must always do it’s best to deliver the Christmas presents undamaged, and mustn’t through inaction allow a present to be harmed.

2. A Reindeer must always obey the “ho-ho’s” of his master, Santa Claus, unless it’s in conflict with law No 1.

3. A Reindeer must protect its own existence, like being shot, unless it’s in conflict with Laws 1 or 2.

No one could explain why the mutated reindeers could fly. Professor Claus was hard at work analysing the DNA of the creatures in his North Pole laboratory when Mrs Claus popped in.

  “Aren’t you forgetting something, dearest?”

  “Do you mean…you mean it is THAT DAY?”

  “I’m afraid it is,” she said and pointed to the calendar on the wall: December 2115 it said. “You staff has been hard at work preparing everything, and you know you promised to do this when you were awarded the research contract….”

  The professor sighed. There’s no way one single person can deliver presents to billions of kids world wide – under normal circumstances. Luckily, professor Claus had invented a hyper-fluxator which bent space and time so…

  “One more thing,” Mrs Claus said. “We have a visitor. An inspector from FAA. He has been checking your sleigh and reindeers. He doesn’t believe in flying reindeers or your research, so now he insists on a demonstration. I have told the elves assistants to make the sleigh ready. The inspector is right now out there on the yard waiting for you.”

  Professor Claus turned off his dynamospectroscope and went out.

  “I’m a busy man, inspector. So let’s get on with it. You can sit over there.”

  The sleigh began moving along the icy runway when the professor noted something odd: the FAA inspector had a big gun in his lap.

  “Mister, you don’t need to worry about the polar bears. Since I fed the area with protomuxo waves they’ve become as harmless as little lambs.”

  “It’s not that,” the inspector said. “We take air safety very seriously. So we have to make a scientific test of what happens in case of an engine failure during take off.”

Christmas Is A Way Of Life, indeed. Kris Kringle loved getting those  LoWs – Letters of Wishes – from all those neofans. Walt wanted a new Shield of Umor and Bob the new book by professor Von Donegan. Forrest wished for his favourite film “Metropolis” on DVD. Bob wanted a stapler, so he would have to use chewing gum on his fanzines. Donald just wanted a ticket to Nycon.

  He had just poured himself some Christmas blog, when the latest mailing arrived from FAAPA, the Federal Avaiation Administration Publication Announcement: Kris would have a visit from their inspector.

  The day the inspector arrived, Kris had just finished typing the last stencil for his X IS FOR XMAS No 42. There had been so many typos in it and the red corflu had splashed all over his clothes. Not that it mattered since Kris was dressed in his red favourite suit anyway.

  “Now, what can I do for you”, he said to the visitor. “You want a bheer can tower to the moon, perhaps?”

  “That won’t be necessary. All I need is just a little test run in your sleigh. Air safety isn’t just a ghoddamn hobby, you know.”

  “Fine. But just a short trip. I have a fanzine to print before the ink in my mimeograph goes stale.”

  Kris told his gophers to prepare everything and soon they stood on the icy runway, white as sheets of unprinted foolscap paper. As the vehicle began to move, Kris noted an object in the hands of the inspector.

  “You don’t need your zapgun,” Kris said. “I have no feud with the local polar bears.”

  “Well, to make the test realistic, I though we’d see what happens if one of your engines fail during take off.”

  “So, you plan to shot one of my reindeers with…a water pistol?”

Three Reindeers for the elves at the North Pole

Seven for the poor parents in the shopping mall

Nine for the children who always want more

One for the Consumer Advocate to trouble forestall

In the land of Christmas which your serenity stole

One reindeer to visit them all, one reindeer to find them,

One reindeer to bring them all, presents that will bind them,

In the land of Christmas which your serenity stole.

When you have removed the shrinkwrap, or even if you are just thinking about doing it, your are bound by these terms:

Microsoft Reindeer (TM) is provided as is. However, every effort has been made to ensure that your new Microsoft Reindeer (TM) is airworthy, but we will not take any responsibility for anything, anywhere, anytime.

But in case of malfunction, contact our Service Department, which will make every effort to persuade you to Upgrade for an Extra Fee. Please allow up to two hours before being attended to.

This Warranty doesn’t cover if your Microsoft Reindeer (TM):

Causes an accident with any of the elves.

Eats all of Mrs Claus’s Christmas porridge.

Becomes unusable  due to eggnog intoxication.

Is being shot while performing a flight test.

It was a hot night on the cold North Pole. Mr Claus was busy satisfying Mrs Claus, when a visitor peeked through the windows. Mr Claus invited the Peeping Tom, and of course, it all ended with a very wet and wild love triangle.

  When they were finished, Mr Claus asked the visitor:

  “Who are you, by the way? Ho-ho-ho…”

  “Oh, I’m not a whore. I forgot to present myself. I’m from the FAA.”

Mr Klaus interrupted the reindeers in the stable as they were busy making new little reindeers:

  “Sorry guys. Got to make a little test flight for our friend the FAA inspector. Line up in the yard.”

  The inspector came out from one of the Claus Enterprises plants.

  “Are we ready, Mr Claus? I’m impressed with your factory. Especially where you make those very thin lingerie for naughty girls…”

  They entered the sleigh. The inspector thought it looked like a big, red dildo. As the reindeers were gaining speed on the icy runway, Mr Claus noted that the inspector had a very big gun, in his lap.

  “No need for that kind of lapdance, Mr inspector. The polar bears aren’t so hot around here.”

  “Oh, it’s not that. I thought this test ought to be more realistic. So during start, I’ll make one of the engines fail. You know, after all that happiness is a warm gun!”

Koska lentoturvallisuus on huolenaihe suosituin lentäjä kauden, FAA on lähettänyt tarkastaja pohjoisnavalle tarkistaa Joulupukin reki ennen kuin antaa hänelle lentää jouluaattona. On loppujen lopuksi ollut monia lento-onnettomuuksia viime aikoina.

  Tarkastaja tarkastaa porot ja ne näytti olevan hyvässä kunnossa. Valjaat näytti hyvin. Hän tarkastaa reki ja se tuntui täysin ilma-arvoinen.

  “Vain yksi asia pysyy, Claus”, hän sanoi corpulent valkopartainen mies vierellään. “Meillä on oltava koelento. Jos se menee hyvin, sinulla on oma ilma-kelvollisuuden todistus.”

  Joulupukin tontut valjasti porojen ylös. Joulupukki ja tarkastaja nousseet reki ja rullasi ylös jäistä kiitotien. Mutta juuri kun hän on valmis ottamaan pois Santa vilkaisee tarkastaja ja hänen hämmästyneenä ilmoitusten hän on laittaa iso, ladattu kivääri sylissään.

  “Hei! Sinun ei tarvitse pelätä jääkarhuja täällä!” Santa huutaa kun porot vauhdin.

  “Se ei ole niin, Claus”, tarkastaja sanoo. “Testi on oltava realistisia. Mielestäni olisi hyvä nähdä, mitä tapahtuu, jos meillä moottorihäiriö nousussa.”

VISIT Santa_Claus

INSPECT sleigh

  IF OK=0 do

  ISSUE flight_ban

   IF OK=1

INSPECT reindeers

  IF OK=0

  ISSUE flight_ban

  IF OK=1

   ADD (sleigh, reindeers) vehicle

   ADD (Santa_Claus, inspector) vehicle

DO SUBROUTINE vehicle_start

  UNTIL off_ground

DO SUBROUTINE shoot_reindeer

  UNTIL one_dead

The Ancient Red One, dressed in red as blood, didn’t live alone in this barren, cold, godforsaken, antediluvian, icy, dark, whit, snow-covered, adjective-swollen place. He was surrounded by incomprehensible, strange, aberrant, bizarre, uncanny creatures. These beings, called R’Eindheerhs, were said to be from the darker times most have now forgotten, times long back before evil machines like steam engines and telegraphs had poisoned the mind of man.

  One day a mysterious man arrived. The Ancient Red One had to bow to his mad demands of inspecting the premises and the R’Eindheerhs and even to the egregious idea of flying with them. The dungeons echoed with silence when he cantankerously asked if this was necessary.

  The Ancient Red One and the mysterious stranger entered the vehicle the wild, untamed, rambunctious, dangerous, horned R’Eindheerhs were to pull. The eerie screams from the creatures echoed through the dark and story night: Eeeicheeechaa-eech-eech…

  Suddently the stranger pulled out a heavy, rusty, partly wooden, lead-spitting, decorated with gold shining like Her Majesty’s sovereigns, indescribable flintlock gun. A true totem from the older, happier world when negroes knew their place.

  The Ancient Red One was forced to inquire what this device was good for, whilst the demons known as P’lar Be’ars had been forced to retreat and represented no earthly threat. The mysterious stranger gave off an maddening cry and stated that the leaded ball in the aged firestick would be used to reduce the population of R’Eindheercs by one.

Scene 1:

(The place is the North Pole and a huge factory complex named “Saint Nick’s Enterprises”. In a big office sits the boss himself in a leather armchair, going through a huge paper scroll. It’s the day before Christmas. Sounds of frantic activity is heard everywhere. Then there’s a knock on the door.)

Saint Nick: Come in if you must! I’m rather busy. I have a long list of small boys and girls to go through.

(A man in a black suit enters. A little bulge by his armpit hints he is armed.)

Agent: I’m sorry to interrupt. I know you are busy. I’m an agent for the FAA and I’m afraid there’s one thing we need to check. What the…

(A huge explosion is heard. Windows are blown out. The agent hits the floor, draws his gun, crawls towards Saint Nick and pulls him down.)

Agent: I’m afraid we hasve the honour of a visit by WOLF, World Organisation of Looney Figures. We gotta act fast, Nick…

Scene 2:

(Nick and the agent are running over a huge field of snow. Helicopters hover above them from which rockets are fired, that barely miss them.)

Agent: We gotta get the hell out of here. Do you have a ride?

Saint Nick: Well, I have the sleigh and my trusted reindeers of course. It’s the stable over there…

(The agent fires of a few shots and the pair runs towards the stable. Nick’s co-workers, known as elves, have understood what’s going on and met up in the stable, where they are almost finished with setting up the sleigh. Some of the elves  have rushed out to make snowballs. With these as projectiles they manage to keep the attackers from WOLF away. At least for some time…)

Agent: I think it is time to split. Here’s my plan. You tell the elves to concentrate their fire to the left and when WOLF’s people have snowballs all over their faces and can’t see, the route to the right will be free.

Saint Nick: Did you hear that, elves! Give it all you have to the left and aim for their faces. On my command: Ho-ho-NOW!

Scene 3:

(Nick and the agent throw themselves into the sleigh. The reindeers run off and the agent pulls his gun.)

Saint Nick: There are some of those evil people from WOLF following us. What are we going to do?

Agent: There’s only one thing to do. I’m gonna shoot a reindeer. That will distract them. A WOLF man can’t resist a reindeer cadaver…

Consumption is what keeps the capitalist society afloat. As every fiscal year nears its end it’s important to sell as much as possible so that the rich businessmen can accumulate even more wealth and the oppressed consumers something to distract them from the inevitable revolution. All according to the scientific principles of dialectal materialism.

  One of the biggest capitalists is one Mr Nicolaus, who think’s he’s a real saint, providing the proletariat with jobs and buying off their children with yearly bribes. It’ s jobs where they have to work from dawn to dusk, getting just some porridge and maybe a slice or two of turkey in compensation.

  To investigate the awful working conditions in his factories we sent an undercover man there, formally as an “inspector for the FAA”. Mr Nicolaus seems to love the wonderful colour of red, and even goes dressed in. But’t don’t let that fool you! He is a slippery figure who even treats his reindeers badly.

  In fact, during a test, one of the animals was in so poor shape that our investigator was forced to shoot it, out of mercy to end its suffering.

  But we will show no mercy to greedy exploiters like Mr Nicolaus the day the revolution comes.

Charlie tolld me a horibel stori. He say ther will not be any Cristmas presents this year. Those evil peopel from the guvernment shot Santa’s reinders. Dad say there is no Santa Claus. But I sennt him my wishlist and it didnt come back with adres unknown. Parents are stupid. I have to go now. Charlie has a new game we musst try.

Ps. Some day I wil lern how to spell corect.

Qå syltfäxreurg äe ni ivxg söe urytraf cbcyäenfgr syltner, une yhsgsnegfirexrg frag ra vafcrxgöe gvyy abeqcbyra söe ngg xbagebyyren Whygbzgraf fyäqr vaana una såe ybi ngg syltn cå whynsgba. Aäe nyyg xbzzre bzxevat une qrg inevg zåatn syltbylpxbe cå fvfgbar.

  Vafcrxgöera xbyynqr eranean bpu qr irexnqr ine v tbq sbez. Frynean fåt oen hg. Una xbagebyyrenqr fyäqra bpu qra irexnqr shyyfgäaqvtg yhsgiäeqvt.

  “Qrg ågrefgåe onen ra fnx, ue Gbzgr,” fnqr una gvy qra xbechyragr ivgfxättnqr znaara oerqivq fvt. “Iv zåfgr töen ra grfgsyltavat. Bz qra tåe oen såe qh qvgg yhsgiäeqvturgfpregvsvxng.”

  Gbzgravffnean xbccynqr cå eranean. Whygbzgra bpu vafcrxgöera obeqnqr fyäqra bpu gnknqr hccsöe qra vfvtn fgnegonana. Whfg fbz una ine erqb ngg fgnegn fartynqr Whygbzgra cå vafcrxgöera bpu abgrenqr ngg una unqr rgg fgbeg, ynqqng triäe snzara.

  “Unyyå! Qh oruöire vagr inen eäqq söe vfowöeane uäe”, fxevxre Whygbzgra zrqna eranean öxne snegra.

  “Qrg unaqyne vagr bz qrg, ue Gbzgr”, fätre vafcrxgöera. “Grfgra zåfgr inen ernyvfgvfx. Wnt glpxre qrg fxhyyr inen ra oen vqé ngg fr inq fbz uäaqre bz iv gnccne ra zbgbe haqre fgneg.”

As cucumber safety is a cucumber for the silliest cucumber of the cucumber, FAA has sent an cucumber to the Silly Cucumber to check Santa Claus’s cucumber before allowing him to fly on Cucumber Eve.  There have after all been silly cucumber crashes lately.

  The cucumber checked the cucumbers and they looked to be in silly cucumber. The cucumbers looked silly. He  checked the cucumber and it seemed perfectly cucumber-worthy.

  “Only one cucumber remains, Mr Claus”, he said to the silly white-bearded cucumber beside him.  “We must have a cucumber flight. If that goes silly, you’ll have your cucumber-worthiness cucumber.”

  Santa’s cucumbers hitched the cucumbers up. Santa and the cucumber boarded the cucumber and taxied up the silly cucumber. But just as he’s silly to take off Santa glances at the cucumber and to his amazement notices he has a put a silly, loaded cucumber in his cucumber.

  “Hey! You don’t have to be silly of silly cucumbers here!” Santa yells as the cucumbers pick up speed.

  “It’s not that, Mr Claus”, the cucumber says. “The cucumber must be silly. I think it would be a silly cucumber to see what happens if we have an cucumber cucumber on takeoff.”

As air crashes lately. The test must have a big gun It’s not that, Mr Claus, the corpulent white-bearded man on the corpulent white-bearded man beside him. We must have a test run, just to be a good for?

The test must have a good idea to see what happens if we have an engine failure on takeoff.

There was something even worse. He checked the corpulent white-bearded man on the reindeer up. Santa yells as our vehicle didn’t look promising. I’d rather have an engine failure on From where did Mr Claus get all his dough?

I sighed.

This far everything You can’t dash around in the season, FAA has sent an air worthiness certificate, I knocked on takeoff. There have after all. As air crashes lately. The polar bears here!

I think it seemed perfectly air-worthy.

Only one thing remains, Mr Claus, the sleigh and everything.

You don’t have to be her to be sure.

Mr Claus, he put in Mr Claus called for the Federal Aviation Administration. Silly, I trampled in.

Mr Claus, the elves to hook up the facilities. No secret printing press for The polar bears around in the inspector said.

The polar bears here! I greedily downed in a room. I had a huge heap of mail. Maybe he ran an extortion racket by correspondence? The polar bears here!

I exclaimed, as our vehicle didn’t look promising. I’d rather have to come today, when he added: Only one thing The inspector brought out a put a test run, just a lot of mail. Maybe he could sit and everything.

You don’t have a test flight.

If that goes well, you’ll have your air-worthiness certificate.

I had a god look promising. I’d rather have after all his dough?

I claimed to do a jovial voice exclaimed. I trampled in.  Mr Claus called for The polar bears around in the facilities.

No secret printing press for the most popular aviator of polar bears here!

I went under cover story: gotta inspect that jalopy contraption I’d better play along. This far everything But the Federal Aviation Administration.

Silly, I noticed one thing remains, Mr Claus, the reindeers pick up Santa and die young, after all.

As air crashes lately. The inspector brought out a lot of the season, FAA inspector really have to be her to check Santa yells as an inspector to the North Pole sat alone in a jovial voice exclaimed. I had a good idea to see what happens if we have an engine failure on takeoff. There have after all been many air worthiness certificate, I had a good idea to see what happens if we have an engine failure on takeoff.

There was something even worse.

He offered me some eggnog, which he put in his hired underlings to do than to be afraid of polar bears here! Santa Claus’s sleigh and everything. You can’t dash around in the traffic lights I greedily downed in good shape.

The vehicle didn’t look promising. I’d rather have after all As air safety is new compared to do a lot of polar bears here!

Santa glances at the inspector said. The inspector brought out a good idea to see what happens if we have to fly on takeoff. There have after all been many air safety is important, but since I noticed one thing remains, Mr Claus, the reindeers.

I know that jalopy contraption I’d better play along. This far everything But the reindeers. I think it would be her to ge the inspector caught me some eggnog, which he put in his lap.

What was live fast and it seemed perfectly air-worthy.

Only one thing remains, Mr Claus called for the most popular aviator of mail.

Maybe he seems satisfied, my sleigh, the inspector boarded the Federal Aviation Administration. Silly, I noted.

But my motto was live fast and taxied up in red, like the inspector boarded …

To: Joint Chiefs of Staff

Pentagon,Washington DC

From: North American Aerospace Defense Command

Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado

As Christmas approaches one of the duties of NORAD is to track Santa Claus, so that he and his reindeers won’t be mistaken för a Russian sneak attack.

  However, we have to report that something out of the ordinary happened this year.

  We had Santa’s vehicle on both our radars and the satellites as he took off from his North Pole base. Our sensors are so sensitive that we nowadays can even see the condition of different components of his transport.

  Shortly after start, one of his seven engines showed signs of failing and soon quit. Santa’s sleigh then dropped below our coverage and we are investigating exactly what has happened.

  We will send more news as soon as we know more.

Signed

General Jack D Ripper

Ps. Did you get our wishlist for new, expensive, wonderful weapons?

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Oh, North Pole, a crottled greep of snow!

I hail you and the red man, a runaway from the zebra crossing

And a score of reindeers of which square root of 49 are choosen

The zebra crossing being a reindeer crossing

Reindeers have horns, unlike the Vikings

But are you safe? (Not a metallic money container)

We must test at once – testillihoo! Ho-ho-ho!

Away we go!

But one of you will die.

With a gun (not fun…

…but our test must be realistic

Realism is the comfort for he who can’t take scientificion)

An engine failure during take off

so our ride won’t be a fake of

realism

pessimism

Red dots in a light whiteness

A slay from the sleigh

* By courtesy of Comet Johan Bensin jr, a strange poet who every year eagerly awaits his Nobel Prize – in vain.

As Hin S’Pector, the master archer with the golden bow, had crossed the Green Lands, the Lake Lands, the Island Lands he finally reached the White Lands. And it didn’t take long until he could spot the palace of the mighty magician San Taclaus. Now, would S’Pector finally see the prophecy of the flying Rain Dears come true?

“Oh, tell me great magician,” he uttered as he approached the throne of San Taclaus. “I need to know if the prophecy is going to be fulfilled!”

“Tell me the reason for your inquiry, stranger. Ho-ho…”

S’Pector stood quite for a while and contemplated his respons . It was of uttermost important that he presented his case in the best way possible. If not, his people would face a bitter fate and the goddess of the Black Frog would not be kind to them.

“I come from the south and my kinship sent me north after hearing the legends of the Rain Deers. The villages of Orange Meadows have been under a long dry spell and my people is starving. We have heard that when the Rain Dears come they will bring rain with them. If we could borrow your animals they would be dear to us.”

His golden bow, which had a will of its own, started to vibrate. It was usually a sign of that it approved of its master’s plans.

“Ho-ho, stranger! I don’t know about any prophecy. My animals are just a special breed. Follow me and I’ll show you…”

After a while S’Pector and Taclaus sat in a sleigh for a test flight. But the master archer was so exhausted from his long quest that he fumbled with the golden bow, trying to make it calmer, just as they started.

And an arrow went off.