A Christmas Carolling, Page 3

Santa giving him a friendly smile. Screwge was still waiting for an answer to his question.

  “Don’t I? Perhaps in some cases I do. I came around and left some for you didn’t I?” began Santa’s lengthy reply. “In giving presents, people often pretend, especially with children, that it’s Santa, myself, who’s delivered them. And this idea can seem very real, even if it’s mostly just in the minds of children. So the sentiment of Santa having delivered somebody’s Christmas presents is embodied in the tradition of leaving presents for people. The job is done for me by ordinary people. This tradition embraces the spirit of the season. And that’s what it’s all about; it’s all about the spirit of the occasion, the sentiments and the ideas and the traditions that are associated with it. The real purpose of Christmas is to bring joy and happiness and to promote peace and goodwill. So if you think about it, the reality, or at least the sense, of my existence is felt and experienced through other people. Sadly there are, of course, those who fail to recognise and welcome the meaning and value of Christmas,” Santa then told him, his tone becoming slightly sombre as he mentioned this. This prompted a reflective feeling in Screwge as he realised this description identified him. “But you see, there really isn’t any point in me going around delivering presents when, clearly, ordinary people discharge that role themselves. And you’ve seen how quickly young children loose interest in the toys they receive for Christmas. So me giving lots of presents that will often only be discarded before long would not achieve any valuable purpose. I’m far more concerned with seeking to ensure that the true message of Christmas is delivered to the world. Those who do not understand need to allow themselves to learn what it’s all about. It isn’t simply about materialism, with someone distributing presents to everyone on Christmas Eve. Ultimately it’s not even about delivering presents at all.”

  Screwge could not deny that he was thoroughly inspired with happiness and excitement.

  “But what about people not believing because they’ve grown out of it?” he asked.

  “Ah well, they dismiss the reality of my existence and refuse to believe as it doesn’t fit with their uninspiring, unimaginative, rational, mundane view of things. Unfortunately there isn’t much room for the idea of magic in people’s thinking nowadays,” Santa explained. “They could believe if they wanted to, though. It’s like believing in anything. Many people give up believing because they don’t see any definite, tangible evidence. But whether it’s real or not, a belief or an idea can still manifest itself through other people, in what they do. It doesn’t matter whether I’m real or not. It’s what people do at this time of year because of me and because they believe in my existence, or at least the idea of my existence, that is important.”

  “But adults know you’re not going to be visiting their houses. How can you expect them to believe in someone who doesn’t actually turn up like he’s supposed to according to the traditional belief?” Screwge enquired, having become enraptured by the sense of joy he was experiencing.

  “As I said, it’s not about whether I genuinely exist. It’s about the spirit of the whole thing. It’s about the idea of Santa Claus being experienced as a result of the way it’s manifested through the actions of other people. Essentially it is about the joyfulness and pleasure that can be brought about through sharing gifts and being together as a family and enjoying the traditions and activities of the season. I don’t actually have to be there visibly, in person, for that to happen now do I?” replied Santa.

  “Then what are you doing flying over people’s houses if you don’t actually deliver presents to them?”

  “In many special cases I, in fact, do. But it’s not about me bringing presents,” Santa said, stressing this crucial point.

  “I know, I know; it’s about the spirit of the whole thing, the spirit of Christmas,” said a now more illuminated Screwge.

  “As long as everything that Christmas represents, with all of its meaning and traditions, continues; as long as the idea of my existence remains; then things are as they should be. All I have to do is allow myself to be seen on occasion and give out a few gifts on Christmas Eve,” Santa informed him. “And if people don’t believe in Santa, they can always suspend their disbelief as they do when watching films or any sort of fiction.”

  ‘This Santa Claus character is certainly very wise and enlightened,’ Screwge thought to himself, impressed by his wisdom, friendliness and ability to inspire happiness. He felt remarkably at ease here. In fact, his mind was so relaxed that it was not long before he lapsed into a semi-conscious state.

  Abruptly he came to his senses some time later, realising that he was now standing in a field, in the midst of a quite wonderful snowy scene. He vaguely recalled disembarking from the sleigh. He remembered being aware that it had remained behind him, but as he looked around it was no longer anywhere to be seen. What was present was a large house adorned with Christmas lights and alive with the pleasing sounds of musical instruments being played. The air felt very refreshing and seemed to have an invigorating and revitalising energy to it. His intuition kept telling him he was in the North Pole. Checking his watch revealed the time of five-to-eleven. He was sure this was exactly the same time it had been when Santa had arrived at his house. But that had been some time ago.

  Up ahead on the snow-covered land were reindeer, visible in the darkness. Rather curiously he did not feel in the least bit cold. Wondering what to do next, he remembered he had that expensive cigar in his shirt pocket, which he had intended to smoke later on that night when he could no longer fit in any more mince pies nor imbibe any more alcohol. Inserting it into his mouth, he realised he had no matches or lighter.

  “Damn it,” he muttered to himself as he began approaching the reindeer.

  Obscured by the dimness of the night, they were becoming clearer as he neared where they were, though nothing was truly dark here on account of the brilliance of the snow.

  They turned their heads to see who it was coming towards them. Stepping into their fenced-off enclosure, he went over to one of them. It looked at him, observing him, and he began stroking it. To his mild surprise, as he reached out his hand it did not step away or exhibit any signs of nervousness or wariness towards him. As it appeared to be enjoying being stroked he began giving it a good scratching about the neck, for which it was very grateful.

  “I don’t suppose you could tell me where the bloody hell I am,” said Screwge, quite frivolously, to the reindeer, the following occurrence taking him by complete surprise.

  “What, fail geography did we?” asked the reindeer, looking towards an astonished Screwge. “You’re in the North Pole. Though I wouldn’t say that was a terribly hard thing to guess,” it continued. “This, of course, is the home of Santa Claus.”

  Screwge moved back suddenly in shock, stunned by this talking reindeer and falling over in the process, the cigar dropping out of his mouth.

  “What the hell is this? How is it you can talk?” asked a bewildered Screwge, rising to his feet.

  “Look, we’re magic reindeer. Is that really so hard to believe? You’ll find most things about Santa Claus and what he does are magic,” was Screwge’s answer.

  He considered this for a moment. Really it was not so amazing when he thought about it in light of what he had experienced so far.

  “Hmmm. So where is Santa now?” he enquired.

  “While you were wandering around lost in a state of bemusement and amazement, and oblivious to your surroundings, he took off again in his sleigh and left,” the reindeer informed him. “He’ll be in some other country by now.”

  “How does he manage to visit every destination in just one night? I know it’s all magic but he’s still attending so many different places in what is surely far too limited a period of time to allow for everything that he does,” asked a puzzled Screwge.

  “Well now, this is where having a PhD in theoretical physics can come in quite handy,” explained the reindeer, its bells giving that charact
eristic tinkling sound as it shook off the snow which had accumulated on its antlers. “Santa operates mostly in a different quantum gravity state. This affects the surrounding spacetime in such a way as to cause time in the world around him to pass extremely slowly relative to himself. Because he operates outside of normal time, he can do everything he needs to, regardless of how long it takes, with hardly any time elapsing in the rest of the world. Except, of course, when he returns to normal time, when he wants to be visible to people.”

  “So does he actually want to remain invisible to people? I mean, surely it would be better if the people he’s visiting, or around whose houses he’s riding in his sleigh, could see him. Then they’d all believe, in him and, I suppose, in the spirit and meaning of Christmas.”

  “No, no, it’s simply that it’s just not possible for practical reasons for him to be visible all the time.”

  “So when he turned up in my house, was he in my time dimension or was I in his?” asked Screwge, this question suddenly occurring to him.

  “Oh, you’d have been in his, the same one that we’re all in here,” answered the reindeer, clarifying this point.

  “So it’s not really magic then is it?” mused Screwge, discerningly, trying to reason all