Santa by Moonshine
by Ronovan Hester
It came upon a Christmas Eve, when Santa was sniffly and blowing into his sleeve.
The reindeer had done run out of steam, for their feed for flying was chili pepper hot cocoa with cream.
The nine North Pole pundits of spirituous glee—trudged through the briars and more than one snow covered evergreen tree.
Dasher was close to stopping for the day; he was tired of pulling that big toy loaded sleigh.
Then what to his bleary sleet coated eyes should appear, but a one-room cabin with a 1970 blue Jeep Wagoneer.
Santa knocked on the door of that haven of rest, hoping he looked his jolly good best.
The door opened to reveal a true sight, a bearded main dressed head to toe in glowing bright white.
“Hello, there fellow, my name is Santa; I was wondering if you could give us shelter and some sparkling Grape Fanta?”
The man looked at the jolly old elf, from the top of his head down to his ample red felt covered shelf.
“I believe I may help with your winter wonderland plight, come in come in and I will bring about a true delight.”
A fire was blazing inside of that one big room, and it was quite toasty with eight reindeer and two men with whiskers like from a broom.
“What seems to have brought you to my place out here in such a storm?” The man did not waste time with settling down his ample form.
Santa looked around from his chair by the fire; the man over him wore flannel and denim for his Christmas Eve attire.
“The snow is a bit thick and our radar is full of hacker spam, then my reindeer ran out of juice from their flying dust infused special strawberry jam.”
The tall man nodded, as though this was a common thing. He circled the button on his shirt round and round like a ring.
“Then I am for certain got something you need, but it’s not some fancy special concocted reindeer flying feed.”
Dasher snorted, and sniffed, and nudged up to his weary but comfy boss. Santa listened and stood before old Dasher could give him a firm toss.
“It seems my fine fellows here would be interested to know, what it is you might have that will make them get up and go.”
A smile and wink and the man slipped out the back, Santa looked outside, but the snow covered every track.
He ate another bowl of some kind of stew; he had not asked what was in it, for fear of upsetting his crew.
The door banged open and in walked a snow heap; the white powder fell off after one giant leap.
“Now here is what I have that should help you get going, and you best do it now, because there is an increase in the snowing.”
Santa took the mason jar, and turned it to the side; it was then that he saw a transparent liquid inside.
“You think water will help on a night like this? If you think melted snow will work then I think your idea is a miss.”
Santa set the jar down by his chair next to the fire; the man rushed forward as if something was most dire.
“Put that next to something like a flame, and you’ll not have to worry about deliveries, and for that I don’t want the blame.”
It was then Santa got the hint of a clue; one eyebrow rose then with a knowledge they numbered two.
“Oh, ho, ho, ho, I believe I now see; and if you please let me borrow a spoon we’ll be letting you be.”
“Keep the silver, it’s stainless steel, I got it at a dollar store, it was quite a good deal.”
Santa have each of his antlered engines two big full spoons each, then put the jar far out of harms reach.
Each of the reindeer licked and flicked their tongue; the liquid energy was making their tasters feel a bit numb.
“That stuff will protect them from the cold as well; when they get to going you best hold on or there’ll be another kind of Santa story to tell.”
Outside the cabin, the two men hitched up the sleigh, and with a call of each name, the reindeer shot up and away.
The deliveries were made with time to spare; no one even knew presents were almost not there.
Arriving back home to his place way up north, Santa walked through his home and shouted and called forth.
His wife appeared with a surprised look on her face. “Dear, you’re home so soon, was it some kind of race?”
With a twinkle in his eye, and a jingle of his bells, the lights went out, and Mrs. Claus wondered if her man was under some spells.
A giggle and a tee hee, and off the hat went, and in the moonlight, you could make out the empty mason jar’s glint.