At the North Pole word spread fast. All the elves were talking the very next day. Oh, the worry. What would happen? Some thought Santa would calm down. Some thought he was right to be mad. How dare they treat Santa like that? Some said those kids deserved what was coming to them. Some just didn’t know what to think.
Well, Fizzle was a wreck. He was there. He saw how mad Santa was and he was scared. What would happen to all the good boys and girls? How sad would they be? Can you imagine? No presents from Santa. Worse – a potato! Just a potato. Not a thing else.
Fizzle decided he had to do something. It was up to him. He had to save Christmas. He called for an emergency meeting of the Distinguished Council of the Holiday Keepers. The DCHK was made up of all the holiday keepers and their helpers.
The council met every three years to discuss holiday matters and the state of children. Generally, were they good or bad? To be honest, the children never fell into the bad group, but it was a tradition, and the discussion went on at every gathering.
They were all there. The keepers gathered around a large round table.
Not all the elves came, just the elves who felt Santa was going too far. They were almost as worried as Fizzle. Though they loved Santa, they wanted to put an end to Santa’s diabolic plan.
The Easter Bunny and his whole family were there. His wife and about 20 little bunnies all hopping all over the place. On the table. On the chairs. On the laps of the others. Mrs. Easter was trying to settle them down with little success.
The leprechauns smoking their pipes. Telling tall tales to anyone who would listen. With their thick Irish accents and hearty high-pitched chuckles. They took every gathering as a chance to celebrate.
There was Tommy Turkey. Top hat and musket in hand. He had his entourage with him too. Pilgrims. Corn. More turkeys, all gobble gobbling.
Matt Damon was there too!
Oh yes. That’s right. Matt Damon. It was a surprise to me too. It was the first time he had visited the gathering. Why was he there? Who invited him? I do not know. Was he there researching a role for a new movie? I don’t know. The funny thing was, he didn’t say a word the entire time he was there. He sat with a notebook and pen and just wrote. Head down. Never stopping the pen. He just wrote and wrote and wrote.
He wore a pink polo shirt with the little alligator on the chest. Khaki cargo shorts, knee length. Boat shoes too. That was the style in 1986. His hair was perfectly styled. And the weird thing too was he didn’t look much younger than he looks today. 40 years ago. He has barely aged over those 40 years. Strange indeed.
The Headless Horseman rose from his chair and stood at the table. The keeper of Halloween. He was dressed all in black. A cloak hung around his broad shoulders and a gleaming silver sword lay on his right hip. He of course was lacking one head, but he did cradle a carved pumpkin in his left arm. The eyes and mouth glowed though there didn’t appear to be a candle inside. When Heady spoke the pumpkin’s mouth moved slightly and eyes glowed a little brighter. It was a frightening sight, if you weren’t used to seeing him up close.
Here is the funny thing though. It’s not nice to pick on people, but you can’t help yourself from giggling a little when you first hear him speak. He has a bit of a high-pitched voice. AND… he pronounces his Rs as Ws. Instead of saying “Rabbit” he says “Wabbit.” Instead of saying “Run”, he says “Wun.” For such a scary looking man, he sounds quite silly.
The others do like to tease him a little when they get together. They took the opportunity this time to talk about reindeer.
“Hey, Heady. Are we going to have to deal with those flying reindeer?” they asked.
“Yes. Yes. We will deal with the weindeeya,” he replied. “No pwoblem with that.”
“What about Randolph and that blue nose of his?” someone asked.
“No. No. It’s Woodolf. Woodolf the wed-nosed weindeeya,” he replied. His voice getting even higher.
The group snickered as they tried to hold it in. They liked picking on Heady but were also afraid to get him angry. They would push it until Heady grabbed the hilt of his sword. Which he did on this occasion too.
Now they got down to the business at hand.
Mrs. Easter started, “What are we going to do?”
“We’ve got to stop him. We can’t allow him to send potatoes to all the small children,” demanded the Easter Bunny.
“Think of the children,” said Mrs. Easter.
“This will ruin all the holidays. The little children won’t trust any of us. They will stop believing,” said an elf.
“What do we do?” another elf asked.
The ideas came fast and furious.
“Kidnap Santa. We can kidnap him,” someone shouted. “He won’t be able to go through with it then.”
“Who would deliver the presents?” an elf asked.
“The elves can!” said a rabbit.
“No. No. It’s Santa. You couldn’t – he is the most powerful of us all. It’s not possible to kidnap him.” Said Mrs. Easter.
“It would just make him even madder,” Mitzy the elf said.
“We could talk to him. Convince him not to do such a howwible thing,” said Heady.
Fizzle replied, “I’ve tried. I’ve tried. There is no getting through to him. He is in such a state. I talked to him until I was blue in the face. Literally.”
“What if there were no potatoes for Santa to deliver?” Mitzy the elf asked.
“What? What do you mean?” asked Heady.
Another elf caught on: “Yes. Yes! What if there were no potatoes for Santa to deliver?”
“If we took all the potatoes before Santa, he couldn’t go through with it,” Mitzy said.
“He could just magic up a million potatoes out of thin air,” said the Easter Bunny.
Fizzle replied, “Actually, Santa can’t use his magic to make things. Why do you think we have a workshop?”
“So, there IS a chance we can stop him!” the Easter Bunny said with great excitement.
“But how can we pick up thousands, millions of potatoes? Where would we put them? What if Santa found them?” All good points thrown out by several doubters.
“Smash them,” Mrs. Easter said plainly.
“What?” asked Heady.
“What if we just smash them up? Mash them,” Mrs. Easter said in a cold, flat manner. She rose to her feet. “That would be a lot easier, wouldn’t it? We just destroy all the potatoes where they are. We don’t have to gather them and hide them.”
Around the table, the Keepers rose to their feet and began cheering, “Smash. Mash. Squash. Mosh. Pound and pancake.” Over and over, they cheered. They had a plan.
Fizzle didn’t quite feel right and did not cheer. The plan was too violent. Throwing eggs and smashing potatoes weren’t right. The council seemed a little too excited about this. But Fizzle didn’t know what to say. He had to save Christmas and had no other plan.
So, the council began making its plans…
They had to stay one step ahead of Santa.
Fizzle would find out where and when Santa was going to start his picking.
The Easter rabbits would round up smashing machines.
Heady would create the attack plans.
The Leprechauns would plan the nourishments.
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