Santa's Twin, Page 2

  To the top of the world! Up, up in the sky!

  Let’s see if reindeer really know how to fly.”

  Up into the night the eight reindeer spring.

  The bells on their harnesses all softly ring.

  Up toward the stars and the big frosty moon.

  Charlotte says, “I think I’m going to swoon.

  No, no,” says Emmy, “we must save Saint Nick.

  And I think I might possibly be getting sick.

  I’m so woozy, and my head’s spinning around.

  Oh, I’ve just got to hold my cookies down.”

  Reindeer are flyers of fabulous skill.

  Soon turbulence passes and all is still.

  Across the deep sea of stars they sail.

  And our little Emmy is no longer pale.

  Ahead an airliner appears in the sky.

  That’s no surprise. Airliners can fly.

  The reindeer soar high over the craft.

  A passengers sees-thinks himself daft.

  Moonshadows of deer slide over the wing,

  a breathtaking and a beautiful thing.

  That passenger will arrive home tonight

  holding in his heart a brand-new light.

  The plane is gone, the North Pole looms.

  The sleigh arcs down. The reindeer zoom

  toward a hard, endless, icy wasteland.

  “Emmy,” says Lottie, “give me your hand!”

  Straight down, down, and down some more.

  “There’s going to be such blood and gore,

  squeals Emmy. “Oh, we’re going to crash!”

  But one reindeer says, “Don’t be so rash.

  “Believe in Santa and look down again.

  Believing makes the difference, so then

  you’ll see Santa’s village spread below

  a wonderland of light and ice and snow.”

  “I see it,” says Emmy, “oh, I really do!”

  “I see it, I see it!” Charlotte says too.

  Cottages, lamplight, and gleaming spires,

  colorful lights on invisible wires.

  Trees hung with icing, gingerbread shrubs,

  bottled root beer in street-corner tubs,

  movie theaters where shows play for free,

  with popcorn and ice cream. Oh, golly gee!

  T he reindeer land on their delicate feet,

  racing swiftly along the glittering street

  to the golden heart of the village square,

  to the house of houses standing there.

  No doubt it’s the house of Santa Claus.

  The girls recognize it at once, because

  Carved over the door in a lintel of wood:

  HE KNOWS IF YOU’VE BEEN BAD OR GOOD.

  T he village seems deserted, eerily quiet.

  A dropping pin would sound like a riot.

  No sign at all of the toy-making elves.

  Where might they have taken themselves?

  A reindeer says, “Their good work is done.

  Now they’re all on vacation, having fun.

  In Tahiti, Jamaica, Pittsburgh, and France.

  Some to Texas: They like to square-dance.”

  Where’s Mrs. Claus?” Emmy asks with awe.

  “Bernice?” says a deer. “She’s at a spa

  in California. Somewhere on the coast

  bathing in the sun, as brown as toast.

  “Santa always joins her on Christmas Day.

  It’s their once-a-year chance to get away.

  By the middle of January they come back

  to start filling next year’s big toy sack.”

  Lottie and Emmy spring from the sleigh,

  dashing to Santa’s house straightaway.

  The door is ajar. Blame the bad twin.

  They push it open and dare to go in.

  A hallway glows with warm twinkly light,

  gilded, coffered, paneled-just right.

  No sign of-Santa. But there’s some mud

  the bad twin tracked in. Then-a thud!

  A thud from the cellar far down below.

  No time to waste. The two girls go

  to a massively timbered door they spy,

  and down the cellar stairs they fly.

  Down, down, around, and down some more

  in lantern light to a cold stone floor.

  A huge burlap bag, spotted with grime:

  This is it-the scene of the crime!

  Untie the knot! Quick, open the sack!

  Santa’s inside! Pull the burlap back!

  Off with the blindfold! And the gag!

  Off with these ropes! Out of the bag!

  He jumps to his feet, almost topples,

  steadies himself, pops his ear stopples.

  “Dear girls! How well you have behaved!

  Without you Christmas couldn’t be saved.”

  Oh, this is Santa, no doubt about that.

  From his boots to the porn-porn on his hat,

  he’s radiant, glorious, a sight to behold,

  the elf about whom so many tales are told.

  He laughs-ho ho ho! His merry eyes shine.

  His sweet, kindly smile is simply divine.

  “You’re Emily. And Charlotte. I know you.

  You’re two good girls, through and through.

  I’ve never had to bring you lumps of coal

  on one of my annual trips from the Pole.

  Those were magic ropes, blindfold, and gag.

  Only good kids could free me from that bag.”

  Says Emmy, “The bad Claus is in the sleigh,

  tied up tight. Now let’s be on our way.

  We must save Christmas-it’s getting late.”

  Lottie says, “Hold on a minute. Just wait.

  I’m wondering why, at this magical Pole

  your cellar is such a deep, dark hole.”

  Santa winces, sighs. “Also dismal and dank.

  And when we first moved in, it really stank.

  We have a problem with ground-water seepage

  and really persistent purple fungus creepage.

  Girls, everyone has troubles, even Saint Nick.

  So smile and be merry. That’s the trick!”

  Back in the square in front of the house,

  the little stuffed toys unload the louse

  who’s wrapped up in jump ropes and Slinkys,

  his mustache still secured to his pinkies.

  He’s wide awake now and not half so fearful.

  The real Santa Claus gives him an earful.

  “What in the world were you trying to do?

  Surely you’re not bad through and through.

  Confused, misguided, no doubt about that.

  You wear my suit well-especially the hat.

  Always be nice to kids, give ‘em a smile.

  They’ll all love you too-after a while.”

  Emmy says, “Be nice, as you were taught.

  When you’re bad, you’ll always be caught.

  What if we told your mom what you’ve done,

  then would being bad really be much fun?”

  Lottie says, “You even hit me with a pie.

  If your mom knew it all, wouldn’t she cry?”

  Emmy shakes her finger. “Oh, shame on you.

  Don’t you know before everything you do,

  you must ask yourself how Mom would feel

  to know you’d done it? That’s the seal

  of approval and the guidance we all need

  to help us be good and to do good deeds.”

  The bad Claus’s eyes well up with tears.

  He sniffles, then blubbers, when he hears

  the girls mention Mother. “Oh, please!

  But for the Slinkys,I’d be on my knees,

  begging you not to tell dear Mama Claus

  all the bad things I’ve done, because

  “she’s the sweetest and kindest of souls

  you’ll ever find between the two poles.

&
nbsp; I’ve been thoughtless, so mean and bad.

  But I never wanted to make Mama sad.

  I’ve been as badas a bad boy could be

  because I never thought Mama would see.”

  Lottie says, “No one can fool his mother

  any more than kids can fool your brother.

  Sooner or later every mom always knows

  if you’ve been bad or good. It shows.

  Scary, I know, but that’s how it goes.

  Now stop blubbering and wipe your nose.”

  Snow begins to fall from the polar skies

  as Santa says, “Girls, you are both wise.

  I’m giving you two brand-new blue bikes

  and to your parents-whatever each likes.

  And you will come along to share the joy

  as I bring gifts to every girl and boy.”

  Un-Slinky’d, with all jump ropes unwound,

  Santa’s brother leaps up from the ground.

  “Let’s hurry and undo all that I’ve done,

  or this year Christmas won’t be much fun.”

  A crowded sleigh-two Clauses, two girls-

  rockets into the sky as the snow swirls.

  “Good reindeer, I’m sorry for all I said.

  I had the meanies, shoulda stayed in bed.”

  So explains the previously twisted twin,

  who’s better now than he’s recently been.

  Lottie and Emmy are afraid that the crime

  can’t be undone. There’s too little time.

  But Santa can deliver in a single hour,

  by stretching time with his magical power.

  Flying like a comet, chased by the sun,

  they sneak past every police radar gun.

  The best trick of all: At any one time,

  they can be in many places-oh, 9009.

  How this is possible no one explains,

  leaving the girls with headache pains.

  At last all gifts have been given away,

  and still night hasn’t turned into day.

  They race the sun to the girls’ place,

  where soon it’s time for them to face

  Mom and Dad on the snowy front lawn.

  Someone might be spanked before dawn.

  Pouring out through the open front door

  is popcorn. And from a few windows-more.

  Popcorn has popped from the chimney too.

  “Oh, what a terrible thing did I do?”

  asks the once-bad Claus, who now behaves.

  “Ten pounds of corn and some microwaves

  “can do more damage than I ever thought.

  Gee, I have to admit I was never taught

  to be such a mischievous fat old elf.

  I’m totally, thoroughly ashamed of myself.

  Girls, I’ll see that you’re both thanked.

  If anyone is, I’ll be the one spanked.”

  Down to the front yard the reindeer fly.

  Mom and Dad are waiting to be told why

  their house has become a popcorn machine,

  waking them from their Christmas dreams.

  They stand in pajamas, robes, and slippers,

  gazing up at their sleigh-flying nippers.

  From the sleigh into Mom and Dad’s arms,

  both girls use their clever-child charms

  to keep Santa’s brother from being paddled.

  “Forgive him. He was temporarily addled.

  But he helped put Christmas back on tack.

  He’ll never again stuff Santa in a sack.”

  Santa says, “I’m Santa and this is my twin.

  His name is Bob. Will you let us come in

  to clean up the mess, set everything right,

  before dawn puts an end to this magic night?

  Your house is the last stop on our journeys,

  and I sincerely hope we can avoid attorneys.”

  With mouths wide open as if to catch flies,

  Mom and Dad gaze at the sleigh, the skies.

  The sight of the red-suited smiling Clauses

  leaves their eyes wide and apparently causes

  an attack of whim-whams. They can’t speak.

  Dad softly peeps, Mom squeaks a small squeak.

  Santa says, “I’ll assume the answer is yes.”

  Then he and Bob, in three minutes or less,

  Vaporize all the popcorn, clean up the mud,

  magically transform the toad snot and crud

  into gifts that are sure to please everyone

  and ensure Christmas morning is nonstop fun.

  Out in the front yard, each girl gets a hug

  from each of the Clauses. Cute as a bug-

  each girl, that is. Well, each Claus too.

  Bob says, “I left a big brown cow for you,

  prettily gift-wrapped, by one of the trees.”

  Then Santa wants to turn Bob over his knee.

  Bob says, “Giving a cow-that’s not mean.

  Remember, with milk we can make ice cream!”

  Santa gives his brother a very stern look,

  and Bob decides to operate more by the book.

  “Okay, so I’ll change the cow into a guppy.

  Better yet, make it a small black puppy.”

  Then into the big sleigh each Claus bounds.

  Mom and Dad are still making curious sounds:

  gasps of surprise and squeaks and peeps.

  What is the particular problem that keeps

  grown-ups from accepting that magic is real,

  that it’s okay to believe in what you feel?

  Into the night, eight reindeer take flight.

  The big soaring sleigh is a wondrous sight.

  Then Santa and Bob call out from on high:

  “Yo, Lottie! Yo, Emmy! Goodbye, goodbye!

  Believing in magic, you saved Christmas Day.

  Keep believing in us after we’ve gone away!”