Saturday December 13, 1958 The Blackburnian Volume LXXVIII No. 6
The Night Santa Fell
By Dale Zavadil Feature Reporter
I’m sure all of us are familiar with the old poem, “Twas the Night Before Christmas.” This fancy fantasy deals with a jolly little old man who descends from the sky one crystal clear, wintry night and bestowed his gifts on a sleeping family. Well, you have been deceived! This is the way the story REALLY happened.
“Twas the day after Christmas and Santa was late. And all through the house there was eruption. (Some mouse was chasing a cat.) The children were in their rooms throwing pillows around; while dreams of tomorrow’s mischief danced through their heads.
And Ma with her mudpack had just yelled at Pa; when from out on the lawn came a big clamor. I crawled from my bed and limped to the window, threw open the shutters and yelled, “What is all of the Mickey Mouse?”
When what should my half-open eyes behold? But, a fat little man and eight scrawny reindeer. The little old driver so tired and bedraggled, I said to myself oh, no, is that clod back again? His team more rapid than eagles they came, as he urged them and leaded them on. “Come on there, Comet, let’s go, Blitzen, of hey there, Donner.”
So up to the housetop the reindeers went. With a sleigh full of toys and fat Santa, too. And then as I crinked my tired head around I heard from the rooftop a dainty little CLUMP.
I slid down the bannister and arrived in enough time to see St. Nick fall down the chimney. He lay in the ashes, rabbit fur suit covered with dust, his bleary red eyes from beneath his dribbly nose were trust. And I said to myself, sing and dance for us, little Santa. A bundle of goodies he had flung on his back and he looked like a riot.
The beard on his chin looked like last week’s snow. He had a broad little face and a fat little gut, that shook when he laughed like a little gut should. That twitch in his neck and that knock in his head, soon let me know I had plenty to dread. He grumbled to himself and went straight to his work. He grabbed the candlesticks, silver-ware, looked in the drawers, and took Ma’s last piece of chocolate cake.
And laying his knee aside of his toes, and giving a nod, out of the door he ran. He stumbled to his sleigh and his team-they were whipped.
And I heard him exclaim ere he drove out of sight, “Well, I’ll be…”