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How Santa Lost His Boots

Whose Boots?
Whose Boots?

Sure, I believe in Santa Claus. I have his boots. Let me tell you how it happened.

Early last December, I fell ill. My niece and her two kids came to stay at my place in the mountains. Doctors had prescribed rest and medication. Mattie meant to see I got my rest and took my pills. Billy and Sally came to help gather eggs, feed the hens and carry water to Roscoe, my horse.

One evening Billy and Sally said they wanted to write Santa Claus so he would know where to find them. "I'm sure Uncle Bradly won't mind," Mattie said.

"Sure," I said. "Why not?"

The week before Christmas it snowed hard. It grew cold, too, and egg production dropped. The kids said they had to break ice in Roscoe's watering trough. The weather change brought improvement to my ailment, so I conceded we might set up a Christmas tree near the fireplace.

As Christmas neared, excitement captured Billy and Sally. They had every confidence Santa Claus would locate them back here in the woods. Well, we'd find out pretty soon.

Then I saw this fat bearded guy in a red coat. Too startled to warn Mattie, I dove across the room and tackled him.

Mattie drove into town. When she returned I entertained the youngsters while she retired to her room. We three pretended not to hear the rustle of wrapping paper.

Christmas came ... that is Christmas Eve. Mattie read "The Night Before Christmas." Billy and Sally really ate it up. I ate a lot of popcorn. Finally, we went to bed.

About midnight, a noise woke me up. It was Mattie placing presents under the tree.

Where did he go?
Where did he go?

Then I saw this fat bearded guy in a red coat behind her. Too startled to warn Mattie, I dove across the room and tackled him. He fell into the fireplace, twisting to get free. In the struggle, his boots came off.

Suddenly, he vanished! A cloud of soot poofed from the fireplace. I stood and turned. Mattie was staring at the boots.

Those boots still rest side by side near the fireplace, black, with a shine that catches moon beams. They look about size 12, triple E, a perfect fit for any jolly old elf.

I wonder if he'll come back for them this Christmas?

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johnmariow 2 months ago from Connecticut

Very nice Christmas story. Amusing.

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