Santa's Bad Day

Santa's Bad Day

Dozy
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Long, long ago at the North Pole, Santa's stress level was going off the Richter scale.

A virus had laid low the elves, production was way behind and, horror of horrors, Mrs Claus's mother had arrived for a surprise visit.

Three of the reindeer were about to give birth and Rudolf, who was responsible for their unfortunate state, had jumped the fence in search of new playmates.

The sleigh cracked under the weight of toys which were spilled in the snow and, while his few remaining helpers repacked everything, Santa went inside for a shot of rum to calm his nerves.

That's when he discovered that the elves had drunk it all and, in sheer frustration, he hurled the empty flask at the wall, shattering it.

Just then there was a tap at the door. He opened it to find a pretty little angel delivering a beautiful Christmas tree.

“Merry Christmas, Santa,” said the angel. “Here's your tree. Where would you like me to put it?”

And so began the tradition of putting a little angel on top of the Christmas tree.

                                                

A merry Christmas from the Inferno to all my chess.com friends and foes—and in 2010, may all your pawns turn into queens and kick your opponents' butts.

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