Susanna's rules were to write a holiday story not to exceed 350 words where weather impacts the holidays. Good luck to all my writer friends and please read the other stories which are linked from Susanna's blog.
Whether or Not to Ho-Ho-Ho
(word count: 335)
Santa stretched in his lounger and sipped a smoothie. He soaked up sunshine and daydreamed about a longer vacation. But, it was December 22.
“Ho-ho-ho. Should I stay, or should I go? I know what Mrs. Claus would say.” Instead, he flipped over and snoozed all day.
“OUCH!” Santa stretched and looked down at his feet… blisters like scalded cranberries.
He hobbled to the bathroom to see what was the matter. In the mirror Santa gasped at the sight… skin redder than Rudolph’s nose…a beard crispier than burnt gingerbread. This was NOT a jolly old elf.
Ho-ho, no. I promised Rudolph some practice runs back North. Stockings need stuffing, my red suit’s a tad wrinkled, and I’m a mess.
Mrs. Claus called Santa the next day. “Nick, honey, only one day left. The reindeer are restless. The elves grumble and mope. Please, come back to the North Pole.”
Santa sighed and gulped his lemonade. He jumped into his red convertible and sped to the airport while Christmas tunes cheered him on.
Ho-ho, no snow for my flight home. Maybe I’ll make it just in the nick of time.
“This just in,” the announcer said. “Haboob alert. Dust may delay flights out of Phoenix. Stay tuned.”
At the gate, Santa checked in with the Icicle Express. His feet throbbed. His skin peeled, but Christmas awaited.
“Humbug to dust storms. To the North Pole, ASAP.”
Santa stared as a wall of dirt rushed in. Lights flickered. Windows shattered. Darkness covered the runway.
Santa stamped his boots. “Ho-ho, no.”
Like Christmas magic, the sun reappeared.
WHOOSH! Monsoon winds kicked the small plane around as it rose higher.
Santa boomed, “Oh, the weather outside is frightful…snow would be delightful.”
To Santa’s joy, the air turned frosty. Snow flurried. Reindeer pranced across the sky, and Rudolph joined the escort. The Icicle Express touched down and then glided to Santa’s workshop.
“Ho-ho-ho. Let it snow. Mrs. Claus, eggnog, please. Rudolph, let’s check the flight pattern. I’m back. Let Christmas Eve begin!”