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Yellow Santa Clause
written by: Agnieszka Stec
category: Holiday
The Christmas time, for many years,
Has borne the thought and still it bears,
Of spending just some days in pleasure,
Enjoying presents, snow and leisure.
Santa’s helpers, work fast and hard,
Preparing gifts for every child.
And that year, it was just the same,
Until the night of Yuletide came.
But let me start this story, though,
From what took place a month ago.
To fresh his mind and slow his pace,
Santa Clause went on holidays.
‘Time to relax’ – he said in mirth,
‘I feel like going round the earth,
To gain some strength and catch some sun
To dance and swim, have lots of fun.
When Christmas comes, to do my best,
I need now some amount of rest’.
So then he took his private jet,
Packed up his staff, you wouldn’t bet,
And struggled with thousands of miles
To get to some tropical isles.
And there he did, just what he could,
To help himself improve his mood.
He swallowed cookies, drank some beer,
Devoured ice-cream with no fear.
He tasted fruit’n’chocolate candy,
And sipped some coke, followed with brandy.
He ate too much, I must admit,
His winter costume wouldn’t fit.
Our dear Santa, with no doubts,
Put on weight extra seven pounds,
Realising that, he quickly thought:
‘Have I just lost my mind, or what?’
He went on asking, with some care:
‘What for God’s sake will I now wear?’
Flying back home, in his own plane,
Nearly did Santa grow insane:
‘My suit’s too small, needless to say,
And I just won’t meet kids that way.
Don’t want to stress them out or rile
By showing not the proper style.
Wearing some shorts, in such great cold,
For this I’m not specially bold.
Giving out presents, things like that,
In a T-shirt and summer hat?’
That time, in Santa’s private place,
The Elves kept trying, at all case,
To trim the tree, green, tall and lush,
Enjoying the whole Christmas rush.
Hanging up high some mistletoe,
Dreamt of at least one fall of snow.
After they baked a few sweet buns,
They sang some carols, all at once.
Tuning well into the latter,
They saw Santa – mad and fatter,
Coming back from his holiday,
Swearing a little on the way.
Entered the house and full of cares,
Within a second rushed upstairs.
‘I’m gonna try on every bit,
Of my new-tailored Christmas kit.’
Without a shadow of a doubt,
Santa looked like a big, red mount.
He became tired, grew his tension
And he got wet with perspiration
‘I will give up the further fight,
My Christmas suit is all too tight.’
He used his brain and mathematics,
He searched through cellars, rooms and attics,
Looked for some other suit instead,
To chase the worries from his head.
And there he found the one in mess,
‘This was my granddad’s thing, I guess’.
He tried it on, the size was great,
Which was to save poor Santa’s fate.
‘It’s cool my Elves this didn’t sell,
Cause now at least, it fits me well.’
It dirty was, with stains and spots,
But surely cheered dear Santa’s thoughts.
So as it was unfresh and mouldy,
He quickly took it to the laudry.
He told the cleaners, never pround,
About his summer-getting-stout.
‘Well, I just found it in the loft,
Could you please make it clean and soft?’
‘Sure we’ll do it’ – said one cleaner,
‘You don’t have to become thinner’.
In a few days, he went there back,
To take his suit home in a sec.
Its sight did almost Santa kill:
Yellow it was – like a daffodil.
Not believing in what he saw,
He stood there, with a lowered jaw.
Then wiped his eyes with two his fists:
‘Oh, are you guys here daltonists?
Or have you been out of your minds?
Which made you total colour-blinds’.
Laundry staff, embarassed rather,
Took brief glimpses at each other.
‘Oh please don’t worry, Santa Clause,
Our machines have got some flaws,
For sure this lesson will us teach,
Not to clean red clothes with bleach’.
This made him furious even more,
He left the laundry, slammed the door.
And Santa rushed then back his home,
Feeling sad, angry and alone.
He locked himself up in his room:
‘With Christmas comes my day of doom,
How can I stay calm and mellow?
Santa Claus just can’t be yellow!
As nowhere ever in the world,
Have I of such a creature heard’.
The Elves evesdropped the Santa’s story,
And felt for him all sad and sorry.
‘Santa’s yellow – that’s so strange,
And no wonder for his rage.
How can he now face the duty,
Of the Christmas air and beauty?
His suit’s just bizzare and scarry.
This time surely won’t be merry.
Not a single generation,
Had Santa in such creation.
And the Great Book of Christmas Laws,
Says nothing of a Yellow Clause.’
Then a few days came passing by,
All Santa did was moan and cry:
‘My life turns nothing but unfair,
Looks like I’ll see no kids this year.
I hate the coming Christmas Eve –
Made up his mind: I’ve got to leave,
For other countries, far away,
And there for ever I shoud stay.
Start a new life, all this because,
Kids must forget the Santa Clause.’
All the Elves wondered what to do,
To stop Santa from feeling blue.
They made the Christmas preparations,
Packed up the gifts with growing tensions,
Festooned the house, garden and fence,
Though all it seemed to make no sense.
They talked to Santa, made him stay:
‘There can’t be such a holiday.
Take please, our slight suggestion,
Your leave’s simply out of question.
Remain here and with such advice,
Christmas will soon turn calm and nice.’
Although dear Santa did agree,
No sparks of hope did he then see.
But mind you have no lines to miss,
This fairy-tale won’t end like this.
Of all the stories that you know,
This one won’t make you feel too low.
The Christmas Time, as you might’ve heard,
Will leave nobody badly cared.
Let me now tell you a few words,
Of what did happen afterwards.
The Elves packed all the gifts and staff,
This made them weep rather than laugh.
‘Santa’s yellow, that’s too bad,
Yuletide’ll be gloomy and sad.
But suddenly, out of the blue,
One boy’s letter gave them a clue.
They saw it right under the table,
And quickly grew willing and able,
To be attentive, line by line,
As it could be some Christmas sign.
One Elf lowered down and cried:
‘Says “Dear Santa”- from one child.
All that rush made us too sore,
We have missed this one before’.
After they read the whole letter,
They for sure felt all the better.
When their moods went up and highter,
Ran to Santa like wildfire.
Without knocking, jumped inside,
Stood around his room and smiled.
All they grinned, happy and proud:
‘Let us please read this out loud.’
To Dear Santa – says the mail,
Could you listen to my tale?
I’m a boy, seven this year.
About the presents little care.
I’ve got all that makes me fine,
Toys, with which I’m on cloud nine.
On the others, in the city,
All the time I take some pity.
There are kids, who see no sun,
Too few cheerful days, no fun.
They are poor, in constant need,
And their childhood sadly lead.
So my request’s for one reason:
Bring those kids some sun this season.
Santa scratched his white beard,
Trying to grasp all what he’s heard.
And analysed the words they used,
But still seemed nothing but confused.
‘The letter’s pretty as could be,
Nevertheless, I’m all at sea,
And now I cannot make it out,
What you’re guys telling me about.’
‘Why don’t you get it?’ – asked one Elf
‘You look just like the Sun yourself,
You’ll surely cheer up the poor kid,
Well, in this yellow suit indeed’.
So this sad story, turns on good.
Santa gained back his Christmas mood.
And with his will, the finishing touch
He brought this season up to scratch.
Came all the children, took their seats,
And Santa gave them gifts and sweets.
Without the slightest sign of fright,
They feasted for a day and night.
And went back home in happiness,
Hoping for more such Christmassess.
This year, before you set the tables,
Open your presents, light the candles,
Tell my dear kids, your friends and kin:
‘The colour’s in your heart, not skin.’
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