Santa No. 846

• Sophie Hooper, Grade 7
• Short Story
• 2015

The terracotta roof tiles were steep and crusted with slippery ice. Nearby stood the chimney, rising majestically into the cloudy night. Straddling the apex, I edged towards it, sack in one hand, steadying myself with the other. I hadn't expected this job to be so tricky...
I'd signed up desperately, and found myself in a cramped white office, being glared at over spectacles.
"Nice to meet you, Mrs..."
"Claus," she growled.
"Ah. Yes."
"What makes you think you should work for Santa Incorporated?" she asked sternly. "We are a highly sophisticated organisation who prepare and deliver Christmas presents, managed by myself and my husband, Santa Claus. I assume you're requesting a position as a Santa and not an..." She eyed my lanky frame scornfully. "...elf?"
I nodded.
She frowned and grunted absent-mindedly. Eventually she continued, "Well, I've seen your résumé, and we've been short on workers lately, so... we'll take you."
My face lit up like Christmas lights. "Oh, thankyou! You won't regret it."
She reached under the desk and pulled out an embossed sheet of paper and a pen. "Sign this."
I skimmed the paper. It read, 'The Santa Pledge: I, [insert name], hereby pledge never to tell a child of Santa Inc. in order to sustain belief. I accept the responsibilities of a Santa, including liability for presents, entering properties and locating Christmas trees. I understand that provision of reindeer, milk and cookies is not guaranteed. Failure to agree to these terms will result in receiving the sack.'
I signed hastily, and she traded me for a badge labelled 'Santa No. 846', explaining, "That's you from now on."
And here I was, on a roof at midnight in a ridiculous red suit. I managed to reach the chimney - but to my dismay, I found that it was fake!
I edged down to the gutter and leapt into the snow. Then I pulled my Santa Manual out and found 'entry'.
"'If you cannot enter via the chimney,'" I read, "'be creative. On the other hand, just put the presents in some shoes at the door and pretend you're German.'"
Then I saw it - a window, ever so slightly ajar. It was a miracle!
I hauled myself up to the sill and tumbled through.
Before presents; where were the milk and cookies? None on the table. None on the bench. None in the fridge.
I sighed, walked to the tree and pulled out the presents.
"Stop!" someone cried suddenly. A man had just entered in his pyjamas. "What are you doing in my house?"
"Um... I was... I work for, uh, Macca's!" I said quickly. "Gifts for frequent customers."
To my surprise, he completely went with it. "Excellent!" he cried. "Knew all those fries would pay off. Hey, I'll get you something to eat - because I appreciate it. Love the costume."
I sat down and was served milk and cookies after all. It was possibly the weirdest night of my life - but boy, it was worth it