West Saint Paul Antiques

What better way to celebrate the holidays than to gather the family around the computer and read a story? I'm only kidding. Really. However, there are a lot of Christmas stories available online. Here is our selection Happy Holidays.

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'Twas the night before Christmas 'Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse; The stockings were hung by the chimney with care, In hopes that St. Nicholas soon would be there; The children were nestled all snug in their beds, While visions of sugar-plums danced in their heads; And mamma in her 'kerchief, and I in my cap, Had just settled down for a long winter's nap, When out on the lawn there arose such a clatter, I sprang from the bed to see what was the matter.

Away to the window I flew like a flash,
Tore open the shutters and threw up the sash.
The moon on the breast of the new-fallen snow
Gave the lustre of mid-day to objects below,
When, what to my wondering eyes should appear,
But a miniature sleigh, and eight tiny reindeer,
With a little old driver, so lively and quick,
I knew in a moment it must be St. Nick.
More rapid than eagles his coursers they came,
And he whistled, and shouted, and called them by name;

Now, Dasher! now, Dancer! Now, Prancer and Vixen!
On, Comet! On Cupid! On, Donder and Blitzen!
To the top of the porch! to the top of the wall!
Now dash away! dash away! dash away all!

As dry leaves that before the wild hurricane fly,
When they meet with an obstacle, mount to the sky,
So up to the house-top the coursers they flew,
With the sleigh full of toys, and St. Nicholas too.
And then, in a twinkling, I heard on the roof
The prancing and pawing of each little hoof.
As I drew in my hand, and was turning around,
Down the chimney St. Nicholas came with a bound.

He was dressed all in fur, from his head to his foot,
And his clothes were all tarnished with ashes and soot;
A bundle of toys he had flung on his back,
And he looked like a peddler just opening his pack.
His eyes -- how they twinkled! His dimples how merry!
His cheeks were like roses, his nose like a cherry!
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow,
And the beard of his chin was as white as the snow;

The stump of a pipe he held tight in his teeth,
And the smoke it encircled his head like a wreath;
He had a broad face and a little round belly,
That shook, when he laughed like a bowlful of jelly.
He was chubby and plump, a right jolly old elf,
And I laughed when I saw him, in spite of myself;
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head,
Soon gave me to know I had nothing to dread;

He spoke not a word, but went straight to his work,
And filled all the stockings; then turned with a jerk,
And laying his finger aside of his nose,
And giving a nod, up the chimney he rose;
He sprang to his sleigh, to his team gave a whistle,
And away they all flew like the down of a thistle.
But I heard him exclaim, ere he drove out of sight,
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a good-night!"

               How Claus Made the First Toy

Excerpt from "The Life and Adventures of Santa Claus" by L Frank Baum   Truly our Claus had wisdom, for his good fortune but strengthened his resolve to befriend the little ones of his own race. He knew his plan was approved by the immortals, else they would not have favored him so greatly. So he began at once to make acquaintance with mankind. He walked through the Valley to the plain beyond, and crossed the plain in many directions to reach the abodes of men. These stood singly or in groups of dwellings called villages, and in nearly all the houses, whether big or little, Claus found children.

The youngsters soon came to know his merry, laughing face and the kind glance of his bright eyes; and the parents, while they regarded the young man with some scorn for loving children more than their elders, were content that the girls and boys had found a playfellow who seemed willing to amuse them.

So the children romped and played games with Claus, and the boys rode upon his shoulders, and the girls nestled in his strong arms, and the babies clung fondly to his knees. Wherever the young man chanced to be, the sound of childish laughter followed him; and to understand this better you must know that children were much neglected in those days and received little attention from their parents, so that it became to them a marvel that so goodly a man as Claus devoted his time to making them happy. And those who knew him were, you may be sure, very happy indeed. The sad faces of the poor and abused grew bright for once; the cripple smiled despite his misfortune; the ailing ones hushed their moans and the grieved ones their cries when their merry friend came nigh to comfort them.

Only at the beautiful palace of the Lord of Lerd and at the frowning castle of the Baron Braun was Claus refused admittance. There were children at both places; but the servants at the palace shut the door in the young stranger's face, and the fierce Baron threatened to hang him from an iron hook on the castle walls. Whereupon Claus sighed and went back to the poorer dwellings where he was welcome.

After a time the winter drew near.

The flowers lived out their lives and faded and disappeared; the beetles burrowed far into the warm earth; the butterflies deserted the meadows; and the voice of the brook grew hoarse, as if it had taken cold.

One day snowflakes filled all the air in the Laughing Valley, dancing boisterously toward the earth and clothing in pure white raiment the roof of Claus's dwelling.

At night Jack Frost rapped at the door.

"Come in!" cried Claus.

"Come out!" answered Jack, "for you have a fire inside."

So Claus came out. He had known Jack Frost in the Forest, and liked the jolly rogue, even while he mistrusted him.

"There will be rare sport for me to-night, Claus!" shouted the sprite. "Isn't this glorious weather? I shall nip scores of noses and ears and toes before daybreak."

"If you love me, Jack, spare the children," begged Claus.

"And why?" asked the other, in surprise.

"They are tender and helpless," answered Claus.

"But I love to nip the tender ones!" declared Jack. "The older ones are tough, and tire my fingers."

"The young ones are weak, and can not fight you," said Claus.

"True," agreed Jack, thoughtfully. "Well, I will not pinch a child this night--if I can resist the temptation," he promised. "Good night, Claus!"

"Good night."

The young man went in and closed the door, and Jack Frost ran on to the nearest village.

Claus threw a log on the fire, which burned up brightly. Beside the hearth sat Blinkie, a big cat give him by Peter the Knook. Her fur was soft and glossy, and she purred never-ending songs of contentment.

"I shall not see the children again soon," said Claus to the cat, who kindly paused in her song to listen. "The winter is upon us, the snow will be deep for many days, and I shall be unable to play with my little friends."

The cat raised a paw and stroked her nose thoughtfully, but made no reply. So long as the fire burned and Claus sat in his easy chair by the hearth she did not mind the weather.

So passed many days and many long evenings. The cupboard was always full, but Claus became weary with having nothing to do more than to feed the fire from the big wood-pile the Knooks had brought him.

One evening he picked up a stick of wood and began to cut it with his sharp knife. He had no thought, at first, except to occupy his time, and he whistled and sang to the cat as he carved away portions of the stick. Puss sat up on her haunches and watched him, listening at the same time to her master's merry whistle, which she loved to hear even more than her own purring songs.

Claus glanced at puss and then at the stick he was whittling, until presently the wood began to have a shape, and the shape was like the head of a cat, with two ears sticking upward.

Claus stopped whistling to laugh, and then both he and the cat looked at the wooden image in some surprise. Then he carved out the eyes and the nose, and rounded the lower part of the head so that it rested upon a neck.

Puss hardly knew what to make of it now, and sat up stiffly, as if watching with some suspicion what would come next.

Claus knew. The head gave him an idea. He plied his knife carefully and with skill, forming slowly the body of the cat, which he made to sit upon its haunches as the real cat did, with her tail wound around her two front legs.

The work cost him much time, but the evening was long and he had nothing better to do. Finally he gave a loud and delighted laugh at the result of his labors and placed the wooden cat, now completed, upon the hearth opposite the real one.

Puss thereupon glared at her image, raised her hair in anger, and uttered a defiant mew. The wooden cat paid no attention, and Claus, much amused, laughed again.

Then Blinkie advanced toward the wooden image to eye it closely and smell of it intelligently: Eyes and nose told her the creature was wood, in spite of its natural appearance; so puss resumed her seat and her purring, but as she neatly washed her face with her padded paw she cast more than one admiring glance at her clever master. Perhaps she felt the same satisfaction we feel when we look upon good photographs of ourselves.

The cat's master was himself pleased with his handiwork, without knowing exactly why. Indeed, he had great cause to congratulate himself that night, and all the children throughout the world should have joined him rejoicing. For Claus had made his first toy.

Once upon a time -- of all the good days in the year, on Christmas Eve -- old Scrooge sat busy in his counting-house. It was cold, bleak, biting weather: foggy withal: and he could hear the people in the court outside, go wheezing up and down, beating their hands upon their breasts, and stamping their feet upon the pavement stones to warm them. The city clocks had only just gone three, but it was quite dark already -- it had not been light all day -- and candles were flaring in the windows of the neighbouring offices, like ruddy smears upon the palpable brown air. The fog came pouring in at every chink and keyhole, and was so dense without, that although the court was of the narrowest, the houses opposite were mere phantoms. To see the dingy cloud come drooping down, obscuring everything, one might have thought that Nature lived hard by, and was brewing on a large scale.

The door of Scrooge's counting-house was open that he might keep his eye upon his clerk, who in a dismal little cell beyond, a sort of tank was copying letters. Scrooge had a very small fire, but the clerk's fire was so very much smaller that it looked like one coal. But he couldn't replenish it, for Scrooge kept the coal-box in his own room; and so surely as the clerk came in with the shovel, the master predicted that it would be necessary for them to part. Wherefore the clerk put on his white comforter, and tried to warm himself at the candle; in which effort, not being a man of a strong imagination, he failed.

'A merry Christmas, uncle! God save you!' cried a cheerful voice. It was the voice of Scrooge's nephew, who came upon him so quickly that this was the first intimation he had of his approach.

'Bah!' said Scrooge, 'Humbug!'

He had so heated himself with rapid walking in the fog and frost, this nephew of Scrooge's, that he was all in a glow; his face was ruddy and handsome; his eyes sparkled, and his breath smoked again.

'Christmas a humbug, uncle!' said Scrooge's nephew. 'You don't mean that, I am sure?'

'I do,' said Scrooge. 'Merry Christmas! What right have you to be merry? What reason have you to be merry? You're poor enough.'

'Come, then,' returned the nephew gaily. 'What right have you to be dismal? What reason have you to be morose? You're rich enough.'

Scrooge having no better answer ready on the spur of the moment, said, 'Bah!' again; and followed it up with 'Humbug!'

'Don't be cross, uncle.' said the nephew.

'What else can I be,' returned the uncle, 'when I live in such a world of fools as this? Merry Christmas! Out upon merry Christmas. What's Christmas time to you but a time for paying bills without money; a time for finding yourself a year older, but not an hour richer; a time for balancing your books and having every item in them through a round dozen of months presented dead against you? If I could work my will,' said Scrooge indignantly,'every idiot who goes about with 'Merry Christmas' on his lips, should be boiled with his own pudding, and buried with a stake of holly through his heart. He should!'

'Uncle!' pleaded the nephew.

'Nephew!' returned the uncle, sternly, 'keep Christmas in your own way, and let me keep it in mine.'

'Keep it!' repeated Scrooge's nephew. 'But you don't keep it.'

'Let me leave it alone, then,' said Scrooge. 'Much good may it do you! Much good it has ever done you!'

'There are many things from which I might have derived good, by which I have not profited, I dare say,' returned the nephew. 'Christmas among the rest. But I am sure I have always thought of Christmas time, when it has come round -apart from the veneration due to its sacred name and origin, if anything belonging to it can be apart from that-as a good time; a kind, forgiving, charitable, pleasant time; the only time I know of, in the long calendar of the year, when men and women seem by one consent to open their shut-up hearts freely, and to think of people below them as if they really were fellow-passengers to the grave, and not another race of creatures bound on other journeys. And therefore, uncle, though it has never put a scrap of gold or silver in my pocket, I believe that it has done me good, and will do me good; and I say, God bless it!'

The clerk in the tank involuntarily applauded. Becoming immediately sensible of the impropriety, he poked the fire, and extinguished the last frail spark for ever.

'Let me hear another sound from you,' said Scrooge, 'and you'll keep your Christmas by losing your situation! You're quite a powerful speaker, sir,' he added, turning to his nephew. 'I wonder you don't go into Parliament.'

'Don't be angry, uncle. Come! Dine with us tomorrow.'

Scrooge said that he would see him-yes, indeed he did. He went the whole length of the expression, and said that he would see him in that extremity first.

'But why?' cried Scrooge's nephew. 'Why?'

'Why did you get married?' said Scrooge.

'Because I fell in love.'

'Because you fell in love!' growled Scrooge, as if that were the only one thing in the world more ridiculous than a merry Christmas. 'Good afternoon!'

'Nay, uncle, but you never came to see me before that happened. Why give it as a reason for not coming now?'

'Good afternoon,' said Scrooge.

'I want nothing from you; I ask nothing of you; why cannot we be friends?'

Good afternoon,' said Scrooge.

'I am sorry, with all my heart, to find you so resolute. We have never had any quarrel, to which I have been a party. But I have made the trial in homage to Christmas, and I'll keep my Christmas humour to the last. So A Merry Christmas, uncle!'

'Good afternoon.' said Scrooge.

'And A Happy New Year!'

'Good afternoon!' said Scrooge.

His nephew left the room without an angry word, notwithstanding. He stopped at the outer door to bestow the greeting of the season on the clerk, who, cold as he was, was warmer than Scrooge; for he returned them cordially.

Go here for the full story in etext.

The storm in the Barrens raged around the little reindeer with a nose like an olive.

"Mommy! Daddy!"

She'd lost her mother and father and brothers and sisters.

The night wind shrieked. The snowflakes stung her eyes.

"Mommy! Daddy! Where are you?"

But no one could hear.

And now - danger! - wolves.

She could smell them. They were close. Maybe they ate my family, she thought, and want me too.

So the little reindeer ran as fast as she could.

In the fierce storm she didn't know where she was going. She just knew she had to get away.

The wolves chased her, but she soon left them far behind.

Even when she no longer picked up their scent, she ran and ran.

Finally she came to the North Pole.

Santa And Mrs. Claus

Gasping for breath, she found herself in front of Santa and Mrs. Claus's house. Night here was calm and peaceful.

She saw them arm in arm on their doorstep. They were looking at the stars.

Santa Claus laughed when he saw the tired little reindeer.

"Ho! Ho! Ho! Look, my dear. A reindeer with an olive for a nose! Goodness! Welcome to the North Pole, little one."

Mrs. Claus smiled. "Well, aren't you just the cutest thing though! We'll have to call you Olive. Right, Santa?" Santa nodded. "Do you like cookies, Olive?"

"I don't know, ma'am," she said.

"Well, try this," said Mrs. Claus. She gave Olive a cookie. "It's raisin and oatmeal fresh from my bakery."

Olive found it tasty. While she nibbled on it, Mrs. Claus tied a blue bow on her head.

"There, Olive!" Mrs. Claus said, giving her a big hug. "You just needed a mite sprucing up."

"I hope you can stay a while, Olive," said Santa.

Olive felt there was little chance she'd see her family again, so she decided to make the North Pole her home.

Olive's Jobs

As the years passed and she got bigger, Olive became one of the best skaters among the spare reindeer. She always won the friendly races against them at Candy Cane Pond.

Olive also had important jobs to do during the Christmas season.

She looked through the magic telescope to see which boys and girls were naughty or nice, and reported their names to Number One, the chief elf.

She hauled boxes of presents to Santa Claus's sleigh on the runway.

She delivered muffins from Mrs. Claus's bakery to the hospital.

In the toy factory she checked for broken toys coming off a line in Quality Control.

She liked these jobs, but the job Olive wanted more than anything was to be on Santa's team.

Will I be picked some day? she wondered.

A Foolish Dream

It was Christmas Eve again. As always Olive wished she could go on the Big Trip. Many of her spare reindeer pals had gone. Why not me? she thought. But maybe that was a foolish dream.

Only this morning an elf had shouted, "You over there - no, not you, Jingles - the other reindeer. Yes, you, pimento nose. Give us some help."

But at dusk when Olive got off shift, she began to do some serious thinking.

Maybe it wasn't a foolish dream at all. What did that smart alec elf know anyway?

So she decided right then to visit Santa and ask him if she could join the team.

A Meeting With Santa

As she stood in front of Santa's house, Olive wasn't so sure of herself.

"Just who do you think you are?" she said.

But she'd come this far so what did she have to lose? All Santa could do was say no.

She hesitated then tapped at Santa's door.

She waited. No answer.

She tapped again.

No one was home.

She sighed. "Oh, well, I tried."

Just as Olive was about to leave, the door burst open.

"Ho! Ho! Ho! Well, well, look who it is!" Santa said. He had only one boot on. "I'm just getting ready to go over to Mission Control to check things out before the Big Trip. What can I do for you, Olive?"

"Hi, Santa. I thought I'd ask if there, uh, was - was -"

"Was what, Olive?"

"Well - anything I could do."

Santa thought. "No, I can't think of anything."

"Oh."

"What did you have in mind?"

"Well - uh - well -"

Olive was tongue-tied.

"Please, I'm really in a hurry," Santa said. "Well?"

When he hears what I want he'll laugh at me, Olive thought. That's worse than a simple no. She just blinked.

"I can't think of a thing you could do," Santa said.

"Well, I just thought I'd, you know, ask anyway."

Santa shrugged. "Thank you for asking, Olive."

"You're welcome, Santa."

She left and Santa scratched his head.

"What a strange conversation," he muttered.

Countdown

Take-off time was ninety-seven minutes away.

Best to forget about the Big Trip, Olive felt, by keeping busy. Maybe Mrs. Claus wanted some muffins taken to the hospital.

She headed for the bakery.

Magnificent smells drifted from it: mincemeat tarts, chocolate cakes, jelly doughnuts, date squares, brownies, buns, bread, all kinds of muffins and cookies.

"Hi, Olive. That nose of yours sure works mighty fine," Mrs. Claus said. "Here's a nice warm raisin and oatmeal cookie just for you."

"No thank you, Mrs. Claus," Olive said. "I'm not hungry. I just came over to see if you wanted some muffins taken over to the hospital."

"I'm sorry, Olive, we made the muffin delivery this afternoon when you were at the toy factory."

"Oh."

Mrs. Claus gave Olive a close look. "What's the matter, Olive? Why the glum looking face?"

Olive pawed at the ground. "Well - it's nothing. Nothing."

Mrs. Claus fixed Olive's blue bow. It was crooked. "Something is bothering you. Tell me, Olive, don't be shy with me. We girls have to stick together. What is it?"

"It's nothing, Mrs. Claus. I'd better go now and see if they need me one last time at the toy factory."

Olive trotted off.

"You're my favorite reindeer you know. I'm always around if you need me," Mrs. Claus called after her.

Too Late

At the toy factory Olive's best friend, Boomer, the chubby harness elf, sat on a crate by the shipping dock. He munched on a peanut butter sandwich.

"Hi, Olive!" Boomer shouted. He liked to shout rather than talk.

"Hi, Boomer. Do they need any more help inside?"

"Not now. They're just tying up some loose ends. We're ready."

"Oh." She wasn't needed here either.

"What's eating you, Olive? Huh? You look really sad."

"Well, it's just that I'd love to go on the Big Trip," Olive said.

"Hey, come on! You'll make it one day."

"Oh, I don't know about that, Boomer."

"You will. You're fast. You always win the races on Candy Cane Pond. And you're strong too."

"I'm just a nobody. After all these years I'm still called the other reindeer."

"Aw, come on! Mrs. Claus for one doesn't call you that," Boomer said. "Tell her what you want."

"Mrs. Claus doesn't do the hiring."

"No, but I'm sure she's got some clout with Santa."

"I just talked to Mrs. Claus and I couldn't tell her about - about my dream. I just couldn't."

"Huh? Why not?"

"Well - I -"

Boomer waved his sandwich in the air. "Sweet potaters, Olive! You can't just wait for something to happen. And that's what you're doing.

"I know, Boomer, I know." She wouldn't mention her visit with Santa Claus or Boomer would get really steamed. "But I just don't like to be - pushy."

Boomer snorted. "Pushy? Pushy! You really tick me off sometimes. You know that? The squeaky wheel gets the grease. Things won't come to you. And -"

"And what, Boomer?"

Boomer stared at his sandwich. "The Big Trip is only eighty-nine minutes away. But I have to say you can forget it just like the other ones. It's too late."

Olive gulped. Maybe I should have said something to Mrs. Claus, she thought. I'll be staying behind again.

The Numbers Aren't Good

Meanwhile Santa Claus, Number One, the chief elf, and Chip, the computer ace, were going over a few things in the Planning Room at Mission Control.

They studied a wall map. Mittens, Santa's orange cat, was on Santa's shoulders. He seemed interested in the map too.

"Santa, the numbers aren't good," Chip said. "We have a record number of kids this year and we just don't have enough reindeer power."

Santa chuckled. "Chip, you worry too much. I have a great team, but we can always add one or two of the spare reindeer."

Mrs. Claus passed by. She cupped her ear to listen.

"One or two won't do it, Santa, even if we had them," Number One said. "Dr. Winters called me just before you arrived. An odd thing. The spare reindeer are in the hospital sick."

Santa gasped. "Oh, dear! All of them at once? That's terrible!"

"And the sleigh is loaded to overflowing," Chip said. "If we added any more toys we couldn't lift off. Lots of toys have to be left behind." He looked at his calculator. "The numbers aren't good."

"They certainly aren't, Chip," Santa said.

"Many places must be missed." Chip pointed at the map with a baseball bat. "Here, here, and here. And there."

Santa Claus sank into an armchair with his head in his hands. Mittens almost fell off his shoulders.

"But we can't let down any children," Santa moaned. "We can't! You're the computer expert, Chip. Think of something. Anything! We leave in fifty-six minutes. There must be something we can do."

Chip threw up his hands. "There isn't, Santa, and that's a fact."

After she heard this, Mrs. Claus hurried over to the hospital.

Blackmail

In the hospital ward the spare reindeer lay in beds. With thermometers in their mouths were Speedy, Jingles, Flash, Igloo, Spinner, Rascal, Bingo, and Pokey.

Dr. Winters took out the thermometers and read them.

"Hmmm," he said. "I can't see anything the matter with any of you." He looked at his watch. "It's Christmas Eve with forty-three minutes 'til take-off. What if Santa needs some of you? Then what?"

"Then that'll be too bad," Pokey stated. "We're not going back to that gloomy old stable."

"Not until somebody paints it," said Flash.

"Hah! So that's it," Dr. Winters said. "Blackmail!"

"That's a mean thing to say," said Bingo. "But we're not going back to that stable. So there!"

"Get up! Get up!" Dr. Winters yelled. "Where's your pride? Where's your courage? Where's your loyalty? Get up! Immediately! This is nonsense! This is - uh, please. With jam on it. Well?"

But the reindeer just snuggled in their beds and answered with snores.

They weren't going anywhere.

Not A Very Nice Idea

Mrs. Claus rushed into the ward. She was alarmed by what she saw.

"What's going on, Doctor?"

Dr. Winters shook his head. "I never thought I'd hear myself say this, Mrs. Claus. Never in a million years. But what we've got here is a bunch of fakers who want to sleep all day long in nice comfy beds. In short, they're on strike!"

Mrs. Claus thought. "I think I've got an idea. It's not a very nice one, but -"

She whispered into Dr. Winters' ear.

The reindeer squinted at them. What were they up to?

The doctor's eyes gleamed as he held up a hypodermic needle.

He gave it a squirt. The reindeer stirred.

"Now this might smart a little, you reindeer, but it's for your own good," Dr. Winters said.

The reindeer shot up in bed.

"Don't be alarmed," Dr. Winters said. "You'll just experience some - er - ha! ha! ha! - mild discomfort."

"I feel a lot better, Dr. Winters," Jingles said.

"M-m-me too," Pokey stuttered.

"See you, Dr. Winters," said Igloo, bolting for the door.

"Don't call us, we'll call you," said the rest as they clomped after Igloo.

Mrs. Claus and Dr. Winters split their sides as the reindeer stampeded down the corridor.

Take-Off

Take-off was seconds away.

From the runway red, gold, green, and blue fireworks lit the North Pole sky with fantastic patterns.

Two elves at the front of the sleigh blew a trumpet fanfare.

Tah-tah tah tah-tah tah tah.  Tah-Tah.

Boomer sprinkled Santa's reindeer from his bag of magic sparkles. The sparkles gave them the power to fly.

Chip and Number One looked on with frowns. Everyone was nervous except for the reindeer.

"I'm all set chief," said Dasher, and pawed at the ground.

"Me too," said Dancer, and shook his bells.

"Let's go, Santa," said Comet.

From the front of Santa's team came a red glow and a giggle.

The reindeer loved Christmas Eve. Santa didn't have the heart to tell them thousands of children would be given a miss on this one.

He slumped in his sleigh. Even his beard seemed to droop.

Olive watched from a rise.

Although she wanted to forget about the Big Trip, she just couldn't help coming to see the show. She especially loved the fireworks.

She heard the reindeer's excited voices. Oh, how she wished she could be one of them.

But I'll always be the other reindeer who stays behind, she thought.

Olive turned away.

She'd seen enough. A tear trickled down her cheek.

Suddenly there were cries of alarm. And...

BANG!

What Boomer Did

The sleigh had crashed.

Santa Claus floundered in the snow.

The reindeer sprawled on the runway.

Boxes of presents were scattered everywhere.

Olive galloped to the overturned sleigh. Boomer stood near it.

"Oh, no! This is awful! A disaster!" Olive cried. "What happened, Boomer?"

Boomer grinned. "I overloaded the sleigh when nobody was looking. I put a set of barbells across the back of the runners.

"What! But why?"

"You want to go with them, don't you?"

"Shh! Of course I want to go, but -"

"Well, if the team can't get airborne then you're in. You're in!"

"But - but -"

"Oh-oh!" Boomer clasped his mouth. "Look who's coming."

No Time To Lose

Number One, the chief elf, marched towards them. His face was red with anger.

"I heard all that, Boomer. Oh, Santa! Santa!" he called. "I think there is something you should know."

Santa struggled to his feet and brushed snow off himself.

"What's going on here?" Santa said.

"Tell Santa Claus the disgraceful thing you did, Boomer," Number One ordered. "Go on."

Boomer hung his head. "I overloaded the sleigh with some barbells. I'm sorry, Santa, I really am. But please forget what I did and give Olive a chance to go with you. That's why I did it. Olive is as fast as greased lightning."

Santa shook his head. The accident had confused him.

"Olive?" he said. "Olive?" Then it dawned. "Yes, Olive! I was just talking to you. So you want to help deliver the presents, do you, Olive?"

"Oh, yes, Santa. That's really why I came to see you."

Boomer gave Olive a surprised look. "Huh? You did?"

Santa stroked his beard. "So that was it! But why didn't you say so? Oh, never mind. We've got no time to lose. Come along, Olive."

But Olive didn't move. "I'd love to, Santa, but I don't think it would be fair to go after this. If not for Boomer, you'd all be in the sky by now."

Boomer looked upwards with clenched teeth. "Olive, you're going to blow it."

"Hmm, I see," Santa said. "I see."

For a while no one knew what to say.

Finally Number One spoke up. He'd cooled off.

"Santa, may I say something?" he said. "Although I do not approve of such a deed, I think Boomer is a well meaning fellow. He has served us well for many years. Perhaps we can overlook what he did."

Santa nodded. "I agree, Number One. Everybody is entitled to a mistake. We'll give Boomer a second chance. So, Olive? Do you want to come? Yes or no?"

Olive could hardly believe it. Was her dream about to come true?

"Whoopee!" she shouted. "You'll see I'm really fast and strong, Santa."

Santa's eyes twinkled. He patted Olive on the head.

"Don't worry, Olive," Santa said. "I've had my eyes on you and I know how fast and strong you are. You were going to be on the team sooner or later. So as of now, you're officially hired."

Chip, the computer ace, joined them. He was studying his calculator and he didn't look happy.

"I hate to be a wet blanket, Santa, but this won't change much," he said. "With the help of this other reindeer - pardon, Olive - we can make Los Angeles just before sun up. But many other places will still get left out."

Santa sighed. "I know, I know, I hadn't forgotten, Chip. How could I? All those children will be heart-broken. They'll never forgive me. But - but there's nothing we can do."

Mrs. Claus's Surprise

At that moment they heard a whistle in the distance. It came from Mrs. Claus.

She wore a red-and-white Santa outfit. And she was driving a team made up of the eight spare reindeer.

"Hee-hah! Giddy-up, my honeys!" Mrs. Claus urged.

The spare reindeer looked as fit as ever. They came at full steam. Snow swirled around their pounding hooves.

Santa's mouth fell open as Mrs. Claus pulled up beside him.

"Mrs. Claus! Good gracious! What a surprise!" Santa said. "What are you doing here?"

"Well, dear, I heard you had a problem," Mrs. Claus said.

"We do, we do. A whopper. But I thought all the spare reindeer were in the hospital."

Mrs. Claus smiled. "They were. Flat on their backs until Dr. Winters came up with a - cure, you might say. And then I did a little dickering about giving their stable a new paint job. You really should see it, dear."

"We can talk about that later, my dear. But right now I'd like to know why you're here."

"Well, I thought we could load up my sleigh and I'll - go with you. If you don't mind."

Santa clapped his hands. "Mind? Why should I mind? That's a terrific idea! You really want to go, don't you, my dear?"

"It would be a hoot. A real hoot."

"All these years and you've never once said anything."

"Well, wouldn't a passenger have made the sleigh too heavy?" Mrs. Claus said. "So? What do you say?"

The Big Trip

Santa turned to Boomer.

"Quick, Boomer! Hitch up Olive to Mrs. Claus's team. That will give us nine reindeer each."

Boomer saluted. "Right away, Santa!"

Boomer hitched Olive in the lead.

A dozen elves gathered up the scattered toys. Another dozen brought the ones left over in the toy factory.

The sleighs were quickly loaded.

Boomer sprinkled Mrs. Claus's reindeer with the magic sparkles.

For a moment the reindeer rose and floated on air. Mrs. Claus's team was now ready to fly.

"Up and at 'em, Olive!" whooped Mrs. Claus. "Ho-ho! Ho-ho!"

Santa winked. "You've got the words, my dear, but, well, the tune needs some work."

Then with a merry "Ho! Ho! Ho!" and a "Ho-ho! Ho-ho!" Santa and Mrs. Claus whooshed off into the twinkling stars and over the moon.

The elves jumped up and down and cheered the two sleighs in the sky. "Yippee! Yippee!"

A few toasted each other with mugs of hot chocolate.

As she led Mrs. Claus's team, Olive held her head up high.

All the boys and girls got their presents on time and they were delighted.

So was Olive. And she did such a super job that from then on she made the Big Trip with Mrs. Claus every Christmas Eve.

Now, of course, everyone knows Olive the other reindeer.

Homesick

Olive was homesick for her birthplace of the Barrens. She was just a fawn when a storm there separated her from her parents and eight brothers and sisters.

She decided to search for them although the journey could be dangerous.

Olive didn't want anyone to worry so she kept her plan a secret. Even Santa and Mrs. Claus didn't know. However, it would be rude to leave without saying goodbye.

Olive went to their house.

"I'm going on a little holiday," she told Santa.

"Be careful," Santa warned. "I don't like where that remarkable nose of yours has been pointing lately."

"Please don't worry, Santa, I'll be all right," Olive said.

"Don't forget, there aren't just wolves in the Barrens," Santa said.

"No, you'll have to look out for the Gotchas," Mrs. Claus said. "Those lumpy yellow things are scary. So you be careful now, you hear?"

"I will," Olive said. "But who says I'm going to the Barrens? I didn't say that."

Mrs. Claus gave her a look. "Well, we don't want to poke into your business, Olive. Lots of luck wherever you're going. Oh, and maybe you can keep an eye peeled for Boomer. He's been gone with his snowmobile since sun up."

The chubby elf, Boomer, was Olive's best friend.

"He's a good driver, Mrs. Claus, I'm sure he'll be all right," Olive said.

"He missed breakfast and we all know how he loves to eat," said Mrs. Claus. "Now don't you be gone long."

"I won't," Olive said.

Mrs. Claus gave Olive a hug. "Watch your back at all times, Olive."

She knew she hadn't fooled Santa and Mrs. Claus in the least. "I will," said Olive. "Goodbye. Please don't worry."

But maybe I'd better worry, she thought. The Gotchas were a scary bunch.

The Hare

When Olive got to the Barrens she came up behind a snowshoe hare. It was digging a burrow.

"Hello there," Olive said.

The hare shot up like a rocket.

"Yike!"

"Did I scare you?" Olive said.

The hare twitched and its fur stood on end.

"You sure d-d-did," the hare stuttered. "I thought you were one of those sneaky Gotchas."

"I'm sorry. Have you seen any reindeer that look something like - well, me in these parts?"

"You mean with a nose like yours?" said the hare.

"Yes."

"Nope, I haven't."

"What about a large elf?"

"Nope."

And that was that. The hare went back to its digging.

The Owl

Farther along Olive saw an owl. It was perched on a tree branch.

"Excuse me, but I'm looking for my family," Olive said.

"Who?" the owl said.

"My family."

The owl glared with eyes the size of doorknobs. "Who?"

"My family."

"Who? Who? Who?"

The owl flew away.

Olive shook her head. She was getting nowhere fast.

The Seal

Next Olive saw a seal on an ice floe. It wore a red and yellow scarf and balanced a snowball on its nose.

"Arf! Arf! How's it going, pal?" said the seal. "My name's Cal. What's yours?"

"Olive."

"I thought I had the most talented nose in these parts. But you've got a real prize-winner, Olive. Arf! Arf!"

"Thank you, Cal," Olive said.

"But wait just a cotton-picking minute. Is that really your nose or is it a little ball stuck on your face?"

"No, it's really my nose."

"Arf! Arf! Incredible! Fantastic!"

"Thank you again."

"With a nose like that you could earn barrels of herring at the circus," said Cal. "My brother Hal did really well there. Arf! Arf! Can you catch with it? Want to play catch the snowball?"

"I'd love to, but I don't have time," Olive said. "I'm looking for my mother and father and brothers and sisters. Have you seen them?"

"Wouldn't know them if they came up and bit me."

"Oh, they wouldn't do that, Cal!"

"Just a way of talking."

"Oh. Well, have you seen a large elf wearing ear muffs and red and green knickerbockers? His name is Boomer."

"Boomy?"

"Boomer."

"Boom Boom?"

"No, Boomer."

"Oh, Boomer. Why didn't you say so? Hmm, Boomer." Cal thought. "Sorry, no. But try going west if you want to find reindeer. At least the ones who haven't, you know, vanished."

Vanished? Olive didn't want to ask what this meant.

"You've been helpful, Cal. Thank you for your trouble," she said.

"No problem. Keep your nose clean, Olive. Arf! Arf!"

Boomer

As Olive headed west the sky turned gray. Big wet snowflakes began to fall.

Suddenly she heard a familiar shout in the distance.

"Help!"

It was Boomer.

He'd flipped out of his snowmobile. He lay beside it in a snowbank.

"Help me! Somebody help me!"

"I'm coming, Boomer," Olive shouted back, and ran towards him.

But in her haste she didn't notice the Gotcha.

The Gotcha

The lumpy, yellowish thing was peeking from behind a boulder.

Gotchas love olives. Naturally it was charmed by Olive's nose.

Its eyes gleamed and its mouth watered. It smacked its rubbery lips. Yum! Yum!

It pounced.

"Gotcha!" it snarled.

It was fast.

But Olive was faster. With a lightning move she sidestepped the brute and gave it a kick with a hind leg.

"Take that, you big lump!" Olive snapped. She was surprised at how tough she could sound.

"Ouch! Ouch!" yelped the Gotcha, and waddled off.

Boomer was surprised too. "Sweet potaters! Nice move, Olive. But what are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for my mother and father and brothers and sisters."

Boomer laughed. "Well, I guess you found me instead. I haven't a clue where I am and the snowmobile is a total wreck. I also sprained my ankle."

"Climb onto my back," Olive said. "You can help me find my family."

"I'd be glad to." Boomer struggled onto her back. "And I'd also be glad to get out of here right away before any more Gotchas show up."

The Cave

Olive headed west. She went as fast as she could, but the snow fell like jumbo marshmallows. It got deeper and deeper.

Olive had a strong back, but it was a tough job carrying such a heavy elf.

You should go on a diet, Boomer, she thought.

Olive plodded on for a good hour.

Finally she came to a cave. Its wide mouth was like a killer whale's. Long, sharp icicles like silver teeth were rooted at the top.

"Do we go in, Olive?" Boomer said.

"I don't know," Olive said.

Boomer shivered. "Brrrr! I'm freezing."

"So am I."

"There could be a Gotcha in there bigger and tougher than the one that attacked you," Boomer said.

"There could be a dozen."

Boomer thought. "A dozen? Well, I sure don't want to go in now."

"Neither do I," Olive said.

"So what should we do?"

The wind howled and the snow blinded them.

"We've got to go into the cave," said Olive. "We can't stay here freezing."

Boomer nodded. "You're right."

Olive took a deep breath and they entered the cave.

What lurked in a dark corner ready to spring at them?

The Tunnel On The Right

Inside the cave any kind of loud noise echoed. They found that out right after Boomer burped.

The echo bounced around the rock walls.

Brr-aa-ck! Brr-aa-ck! Brr-aa-ck! Brr-aa-ck! Brr-aa-ck! Brr-aa-ck! Brr-aa-ck! Brr-aa-ck! Brr-aa-ck! Brr-aa-ck!

Olive moaned. "Now you've done it, Boomer."

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," Boomer said. "I couldn't help it."

"Shhh!"

Olive didn't move.

Her ears were cocked for the slightest noise. Any moment a Gotcha or something just as awful could attack them.

They waited. They didn't move a muscle. But nothing happened.

Then with tiny sighs of relief they made their way through the gloomy cave.

They came to a fork leading off to two tunnels.

"Shall we try the one on the right, Olive?" Boomer whispered.

Olive sniffed. There was a mossy smell all around and a faint, horrible one underneath it.

One she didn't like.

"We'll try the right," Olive whispered back.

One tunnel is as good - or bad - as another, she thought.

As they travelled along the tunnel that horrible smell got stronger and stronger. When they came near the end, it was plain where the smell came from.

In their path were four Gotchas.

The Spider

Thankfully the Gotchas were curled up sleeping.

Olive quivered. Boomer pressed his knees into her sides.

If the Gotchas woke up, they were finished.

What should they do?

Without a word Olive began backing up. She didn't take her eyes off the big yellow lumps for a second.

They'd never been so silent.

Only the plink-plink-plinks of melting icicles could be heard.

Then Boomer felt another burp coming on.

Oh-oh!

However, he managed to stifle it with his knuckles.

Bit by bit they backed away from these terrifying yellow lumps.

Easy does it, Olive thought. Don't stumble on any loose stones. Back up some more. And a little bit more. And some more.

Keep going. Don't stop.

Gradually she got far enough away so they couldn't see the Gotchas.

Everything was going fine. Just another three or four steps to the fork. That's all.

Easy now, Olive kept reminding herself. Easy. Don't rush. Whatever you do, don't panic. Easy, easy.

Olive brushed against a spider. A brown one hanging from a sticky thread.

The spider swung in front of Boomer's nose. When he saw it he lost all control.

"Aiiiieeeeee!" Boomer screamed.

The Gotchas hopped towards them with surprising speed. Their black eyes looked ready to pop out of their lumpy yellow heads.

Their huge mouths were wide open as they screamed too. The echoes in the cave were deafening.

Olive and Boomer just closed their eyes.

We've had it! Olive thought.

The Tunnel On The Left

Without a glance in their direction, the Gotchas hopped by them and out of the cave.

Olive smiled. "Well, what do you know! I think you scared them, Boomer."

Boomer chuckled and blew on his fingertips. "Ho-hum, nothing to it. Sometimes it pays to be a loudmouth. So what now?"

"That's a good question."

"I hate to say this, Olive, but you might not find your family. They could be - could be -"

Olive's eyes welled with tears. "Yes, I know. But I can't quit so soon. Let's try the tunnel on the left this time."

This tunnel sloped downward. The farther they went it grew dimmer.

As they crept along, Boomer clutched Olive's neck. His hands trembled and his stomach gurgled.

"I sure wish I was at the North Pole," he said. "The special today is grilled cheese sandwiches and blackberry pie."

"Shh!"

Olive came to a sharp corner. When she turned it she froze.

"Sweet loving potaters!" Boomer cried out.

What they saw was unbelievable.

Is it the dim light? Am I looking into a trick mirror? Olive thought.

Noses

Staring back was a family of reindeer.

They all had noses like hers.

Well, not exactly like hers. Some noses were blue and some were green.

Could it be?

Yes, it was her parents and her eight brothers and sisters.

Olive's father had a nose as blue as the sky.

Her mother's nose was a lovely lime green. It had a slight upward tilt, but it wasn't snobbish.

Her brothers' and sisters' noses were blue or green in all kinds of wonderful shades.

They studied each other before breaking out into fits of laughter. Then there were a great many licks and nuzzles exchanged.

"At the North Pole I'm called Olive," Olive said.

"How about that!" her father said.

"That's what we named you," her mother said.

"What else?" her father said. "In our whole family tree nobody has a nose like yours."

Olive gasped. "You mean I'm the only reindeer with a nose like -?"

"Yes, like an olive," her mother said. "You're very lucky."

Lucky? Olive thought. Yes, I am lucky. I'm not just different, I'm one of a kind.

Then she couldn't stop smiling.

Everybody sat down to a meal of celery sticks with peanut butter.

The food got Boomer's full attention. He loved peanut butter.

After the meal Olive told them what she did at the toy factory, and about the friendly skating races with her reindeer friends on Candy Cane Pond.

Her mother and father beamed with pride.

Open-mouthed with amazement were Olive's brothers and sisters: Iggy, Andy, Charlie, and Franky, Cathy, Winnie, Shirley, and Suzie.

"You wouldn't believe how fast and strong Olive is," Boomer said. "She doesn't like to blow her own horn, but she leads Mrs. Claus's team."

"Ooooo!" cried Olive's brothers and sisters.

"No doubt about it, you're something special, Olive," her father said. "So you'd better get back to the North Pole before it gets dark and even more dangerous."

Olive hesitated. "But - but - "

"Now don't argue, Olive. That's where you belong," her mother said. "Lots of people count on you."

"Why don't you come back and live with me?" Olive said.

Her parents shook their heads.

"We all have many close friends here, Olive," her mother said. "We'd miss each other."

So Olive left with a lighter heart and promised she'd visit again soon.

Home

On the return trip the weather had cleared up and the footing was easier.

But Boomer didn't weigh any less. He'd put away a lot of celery and peanut butter.

Boomer, you're like a sackful of wet cement! Olive thought.

But she didn't mind that much. She was feeling too happy.

When they got to the North Pole, Olive took Boomer right to the hospital.

"Stay off that ankle, Boomer," Dr. Winters said. "Give it lots of rest and it'll be as good as new in ten days."

As for Olive she made a visit to the whirlpool.

Then she trotted off to Mrs. Claus's bakery.

"Here's a raisin and oatmeal cookie to munch on, Olive," said Mrs. Claus with a big smile.

At the toy factory Olive met Santa Claus doing his rounds.

"Ho! Ho! Ho! I'm glad you're back, Olive," Santa said. "Mrs. Claus needs you to lead her team on the Big Trip. It's not far away you know."

Later on in the gym there was a Bop 'Til You Drop party to celebrate Olive's and Boomer's safe return.

Mrs. Claus made a chocolate fudge cake that took up a whole table.

"Wow! Look at that!" shouted Boomer.

The cake was formed like a Christmas tree. Its branches were whipped cream with red cherries on the tips. The trunk was crushed filberts and cashews.

By the sandwich and pastry buffet were two troughs of fruit punch. Enough for eighteen reindeer. One trough for Santa's team and the other for Mrs. Claus's team.

Except for Boomer, who was groaning after too much cake, everybody had a great time.

Santa and Mrs. Claus danced the night away. And Olive conducted the elves' band with her one-of-a-kind nose.

She'd never been happier because she knew the North Pole was where she belonged - home.

Do You Hear What I Hear?

Said the night wind to the little lamb,
"Do you see what I see?
Way up in the sky, little lamb,
Do you see what I see?
A star, a star, dancing in the night
With a tail as big as a kite,
With a tail as big as a kite."

Said the little lamb to the shepherd boy,
"Do you hear what I hear?
Ringing through the sky, shepherd boy,
Do you hear what I hear?
A song, a song high above the trees
With a voice as big as the the sea,
With a voice as big as the the sea."

Said the shepherd boy to the mighty king,
"Do you know what I know?
In your palace warm, mighty king,
Do you know what I know?
A Child, a Child shivers in the cold--
Let us bring him silver and gold,
Let us bring him silver and gold."

Said the king to the people everywhere,
"Listen to what I say!
Pray for peace, people, everywhere,
Listen to what I say!
The Child, the Child sleeping in the night
He will bring us goodness and light,
He will bring us goodness and light."