Priority mail

I was returning from the stables where I was visiting my sick reindeer - Reindeer Flu! - when I was stopped outside the post office by Nendia, one of the doll-making elves. A pudgy elf, even by elf standards.

"Santa! Santa!" She squeaked. (She tends to talk in squeaks.)

"Ah, Nendia, is something on your mind? " I asked, knowing full well that something was always on her mind.

"Well, I have to tell you," she squeaked (See?). "Bucky is not following our agreement. You have to talk to her!"

I thought for a moment. Bucky? Agreement?

Nothing came back to me. This could take a while, I feared.

"I have to pick up some mail," I said. "Then maybe you can remind me of the agreement."

"Oh, of course," she squeaked. But she also smiled. She had my attention - which is probably part of what she really wanted.

We entered the post office. Dozens of voices called out to me.

"Hello Santa! Santa! Good afternoon Santa!"

"Hello everyone," I said loudly to them all. "Quite a crowd. Not mailing your Christmas cards early? Or are you mailing your lists to me already?"

A few of them laughed. I went over to my special mail window.

"I was told some more special requests had come in." I said, trying to sound jolly, but already feeling a bit of sadness.

More to come ...