365 Day Journal Challenge

Dec 24-Santa keels over on Christmas Eve (not done yet)

PROMPT: DEC 24, 2008

WHO --- SANTA
WHAT --- SANTA ... KEELS OVER
WHEN --- AT A MEAL ON CHRISTMAS EVE
WHY --- __________
WHERE --- __________




Okay guys, I have a 7 yo and a 3 yo.  I am not talking about Santa keeling over at the dinner table unless it's due to my mother's dalmation passing gas beneath the table (or a relative for that matter).  Now that will get the kids laughing.  Well, here goes my attempt at this prompt.

Earl - I'm doing this late (as in-after the Dec 28th prompt was announced)so you just try this title for four random and totally unrelated words for a prompt...eat your heart out, kiddo.

Fainting, Sweet Tea, Gulf Shores, and Accounting

Forgive me if I sound naive but it's the night before Christmas and Santa had to pull an all nighter.  He won't be dining, he'll be riding his sleigh past the Mickey D's drive through for a Mac something and a large fry.

The morning after, however, with no sleep for days and a heart attack waiting to happen from the greasy dinner, I can see a little faint of exhaustion or a fluttery valve.  And let's not forget that there are bathrooms on the sleigh and we all know what jetlag does to the digestive system, so here's my guess at what ailed him. 

He's home after the big day and his wife fixes him a good ole Southern meal of greasy fried chicken, fried green tomatoes, a heap of pinto beans with lard cooked in a  cast iron pot, a glass of eggnog with a dash of this and that to help him sleep and a big slice of pecan pie to top it all off, oh, and lets not forget the Southern staple-sweet iced tea.    He's finally finished with dinner (which is really lunch b/c he was starving after his last stop in Alaska and who cares if it was only noon in the North when he finally landed and put the reindeer back in the barn). 

So its around two pm and he's sitting on his big red recliner watching sports on TV and he has his belt loosened and his hat and jacket still on for lack of energy to take it off.  The fire is crackling, he's hot, full, exhausted, and then he passes out from all the above.  His dear wife takes off the hat and jacket, the belt and everything but his underalls

(these are long underwear folks, this isn't getting x rated-its cold outside remember). 

He's lying there still unconsious when she decides she might ought to call the doctor.  Meanwhile, he is having the dream of his life.  A breeze blows past his beard as he reclines on a hammock in Gulf Shores, Alabama.  He can still feel the warm sugary sand between his toes.  The waves are crashing against the shore and he can hear the live entertainment from the Pink Pony Pub in the background.  Jimmy Buffet, perhaps.  It figures.  But still, the calm peaceful feeling washes over him and he thinks he's died and gone to heaven. 

He was wrong.

Thinking the waves made it from the Gulf of Mexico to his hammock a good 200 feet away and believing he was about to be swallowed by a hurricane, he opens his eyes to the sight of his wife and the doctor ...

(you folks have dirty minds, don't you)

pouring a pitcher full of the sweet tea they had for lunch right over his face and chest to cool him down and wake him up at the same time. After a few antacids and a brisk walk in the snow, he decided he would start his new year's resolution early. No fried foods, no more late nights for at least 364 days and a vacation in a place like his dreams where he wouldn't get a rude awakening with a jug of sweet tea.  Oh, and it would be unsweet from now on, he promised himself.  His taste for Milo's sweet tea had vanished right along with his peaceful dream. 

Later that afternoon, he fell asleep with the aim of returning to his hammock on the Gulf but awoke the next morning with a mind full of naughty children cursing his name, tears streaming down their coal stained fingers.  Sometimes he wished he'd changed his major to Accounting. 

The End.





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