Twas the night before Christmas...
Dec. 25th, 2005 10:22 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
annwfyn...and I was sitting downstairs in the sitting room, when suddenly I heard the doorbell go.
"Who could that be?" I said to myself. "It's past midnight on Christmas Eve."
I got up and wandered downstairs, only to find the most peculiar little man standing on my doorstep. He was short, with a thick white beard, and appeared to be clad entirely in soot stained furs.
"Hello," I said.
"Hello," he said, in a rather Germanic accent (it might have been Dutch). "I tried to get into your house the traditional way, but you don't seem to have a chimney."
"No," I said. "We don't. I'm very sorry." He smiled, with a twinkle in his eye. "Modern houses," he said. "I don't know..."
From up above on the roof I heard a jangling noise and looked up. There appeared to be a brown, antlered head poking over the gutter. By my side, I heard my friend shout out "quiet, Blitzen. Behave!"
"Anyway," he said. "I've got a delivery," and pulled out two stockings, filled with presents.
I offered him a mince pie, which he accepted and a glass of sherry, which he didn't. "I had a nasty collision with that Jadis of Narnia woman in 1952, and the insurance wouldn't pay up on the sled since I'd been drinking. Vixen just hasn't been the same reindeer since" he said. "I don't drink and fly anymore."
Then he smiled, and said he had best be getting on his way, and up the side of the house he went, climbing the drainpipe like a pro. Then I heard his exclaim, before he swung out of sight, "happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night,"
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This story is in honour of my having spent Christmas Eve and the 23rd December with my cousin's kids, and my stepsisters' children, who all still believe in Father Christmas.
Happy Christmas, everyone.
"Who could that be?" I said to myself. "It's past midnight on Christmas Eve."
I got up and wandered downstairs, only to find the most peculiar little man standing on my doorstep. He was short, with a thick white beard, and appeared to be clad entirely in soot stained furs.
"Hello," I said.
"Hello," he said, in a rather Germanic accent (it might have been Dutch). "I tried to get into your house the traditional way, but you don't seem to have a chimney."
"No," I said. "We don't. I'm very sorry." He smiled, with a twinkle in his eye. "Modern houses," he said. "I don't know..."
From up above on the roof I heard a jangling noise and looked up. There appeared to be a brown, antlered head poking over the gutter. By my side, I heard my friend shout out "quiet, Blitzen. Behave!"
"Anyway," he said. "I've got a delivery," and pulled out two stockings, filled with presents.
I offered him a mince pie, which he accepted and a glass of sherry, which he didn't. "I had a nasty collision with that Jadis of Narnia woman in 1952, and the insurance wouldn't pay up on the sled since I'd been drinking. Vixen just hasn't been the same reindeer since" he said. "I don't drink and fly anymore."
Then he smiled, and said he had best be getting on his way, and up the side of the house he went, climbing the drainpipe like a pro. Then I heard his exclaim, before he swung out of sight, "happy Christmas to all, and to all a good night,"
This story is in honour of my having spent Christmas Eve and the 23rd December with my cousin's kids, and my stepsisters' children, who all still believe in Father Christmas.
Happy Christmas, everyone.
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Sinter Klaus! (sp?)
Date: 2005-12-25 10:47 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-25 03:00 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-12-25 10:37 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2006-01-01 11:23 pm (UTC)