All Year, Santa?

         "So, my child, have you been good?"

         "Um, er, define good. What is it really? I, ah, intended to be good. I made an effort. You know, best laid plans and all that."

         "Hmm, I see. Can you explain?"

         "Well, life happened. One minute I was just minding my own business and wham, Covid swooped in. I had no warning."

         "Yes, that virus has caused quite the ruckus. It's travelled further and faster than I ever could. I'd like to see it gone for good."

         "There's that word again, good. What does it mean? I must admit I've indulged in a good tongue-lashing or two directed against politicians. The good ol' boys. I get good and riled up."

         "Now, now, politicians are people too."

         "But are they? They smile their greasy grins and pat each other on the back. They high-five and brag of the good they've bestowed upon 'their' populace. Good deals, good works, good projections. They line their own pockets while we struggle to earn a good living. I say good riddance!"

         "Good grief, you are good and angry. Perhaps you need a good outlet. Direct that emotion elsewhere."

         "You saw my rant? I forgot that you notice everything. I suppose you heard me yelling at idiot drivers, too. Who gave them a licence? Despite Covid they insist upon clogging the roads. It's a good thing they cannot hear me in my bubble."

         "Venting to yourself is harmless. It's not as if you kicked someone."

         "Oh, but I have Santa. I kick myself all the time. Why didn't I prepare and save more? With so many businesses ordered to shut down to thwart the spread of Covid, I find myself unemployed and struggling. I kick myself to get up everyday and do something, anything. I pretend to be happy. I pull on more than one mask."

         "Goodness gracious! This year has been frustrating to many. I've a good mind to bend my usual expectations."

         "Mmmff."

         "Pardon?"

         "Sorry Santa. Wearing a face mask has one good thing going for it. Not everyone hears my mumbles and then misconstrues them. I'm rarely asked to repeat myself. Are we good?"

         "We are. Goodbye until next year."

         "Goodbye. Good talk."

( 368 words )