Santa in Crisis

"Help!"

"Where's that sound coming from? Someone's in trouble!"

"Help!"

"Has someone fallen in to the pool?"

"There's no one in the pool. I'm near the pool now!"

"Wish he'd say where he is! WHERE ARE YOU?"

"Help! In the bathroom!"

The family rushed to the locked bathroom. "Okay, stop banging on the door, we're here!" Mom called out.

"Get me out!"

"Uncle Arthur!"

"I came in here to change in to that Santa suit. I wanted to be in it before the kids came back from their picnic. Must've done something to this lock, but it won't open now. UGH! $#%#%#%^!"

"Uncle Arthur! Such language from Santa!"

"Never mind my language. Get me out before the kids get back and before I run out of oxygen. It's hot in this suit."

"Take the suit off, then," Mom suggested, a bit distracted with trying to think of how to get him out.

"So that I'm starkers when you get this door open? No thanks."

"You don't have to be starkers, Uncle Arthur. Just put what you were wearing before back on," cousin Edith suggested.

"I dumped my shirt, trousers and underwear in your laundry basket and I am not putting my hand in this thing to get them back out. What the ##$%#@@ do the kids do to their clothes?"

"Language!" Aunt Enid said.

"Never you mind my language, you old fraud. I've read your diary and I know the language you use. Now get me out."

"Arthur! That was my private diary! You had no right to ..."

"Well, you shouldn't go leaving it about then."

"I didn't leave it about, it was in my purse!"

"Yes, the same purse where you keep your cough lozenges. What's a man supposed to do when he has a tickle in his throat?"

"You opened my purse and stole my cough lozenges?"

"And by the way, if you're looking for those stamps, I took them to send a New Year card to Sonali, in India. There's no way a card is going to reach India by Christmas, the rate the #^^&$#@@ postal service is going."

"You took my stamps? You ought not to be running around loose. I think we'll just leave you in there."

"I'll suffocate."

"That's too good a fate for you."

"You mean old alligator!"

"You stealing jackdaw!"

"You ... you ..."

"Now, now. What's going on, then, what's going on? Can't a ninety three year old woman have a bit of a nap in peace?"

"Sorry, Aunt Bertha, but Uncle Arthur is locked in the bathroom and ..."

"That boy! Always getting into some sort of trouble. Even when he was a wee lad. he'd be up to something. Climbed on to the roof once, and broke the chimney, he did. Turned him over on my knee and warmed his bottom good and proper that time."

"Ma, is that you? Stop yammering on and get me out of here. Rest of this family is completely useless. They'll let me run out of air before they use a muscle in their brain."

"Don't just stand there staring. That's my son, locked in the bathroom. Get me a paper clip."

"A paper clip?"

"Yes, yes, you know that bent thingie you use to hold sheets together. Get me one. My son needs to come out of the bathroom before my great-grand kids get here, or they won't find Santa waiting."

"Here's a paper clip."

"Now, pay attention. First, you pull just this end of it, like this. Then, you twist. Then, you insert it in the lock, you turn it clockwise and turn the door handle anti-clockwise ... Hello son. You've put on a bit of weight since last year. That suit's soon going to be too tight."

"Aw, Ma, stop your yammering. Do I have time for a quick brandy before the kids get here?"



Written for the prompt:
Our Christmas would have fizzled if not for Aunt Bertha's creative use of a paper clip