Santa DOES Exist
and he drinks eggnog 
and has knocked off a few elves
posted by Kitty O'Keefe at 6:00 AM
December 07, 2006
and he drinks eggnog and has knocked off a few elves
About Me
- Name: Kitty O'Keefe
- Location: United States
A financial professional with 30 years' experience in financial management and education for women.
Previous Posts
- Tracking Santa
- To Be ' or Not To Be '
- Apostrophe
- His Royal Visage
- Lord Buckley
- Holiday Play Time
- Holiday Nappy Time
- Christmas Carols
- Word Nazis
- PETA SCHMETA
1 Comments:
I've been reading Schiller again..(Ich habt
ein kleine schriebenplatz!
Mit buchen und papieren..)
and then you brought up
Santa, and as so often
happens two things from
disparate sources came
together...
First, you should know
that in the fur fold-up
edge of every Santa's hat
there is a mouse. Look
closely and you will always
see a tiny pink nose, a
mere scritched curve of
whisker, the flicker glint
of a dark little eye.
Second, in December of
1916, Major Parcelle of the Salvation Army of Great Britain Expeditionary Force made
his way along the Voie
Sacree into that ten square kilometres of
surreal hell which history would soon call Verdun.
This was the Major's
third ride. The first was
beside the driver of an
empty American Field Service Model T chassis
Ford ambulance. The Major
threw up twice. The young
driver, a boy really, had
a moustache that made him
look older and he smoked
cigarets incessantly. "At
the start we sluiced her out with water after unloading at the dressing
station. No water for that
now, though, and no time
to do it..just turn around
and drive right back up to
the Line. I grew up on a
farm in Kansas but this smell of blood all the time..I'm glad I'm a smoker..". The major threw up once more, then got out
his pencil and book and
said, "I should like to
write your mother..tell her I met you and that you
are well..". The young ami
grinned, "Say, Major, that'd be swell! I haven't
time to write..or draw, either. I'm studying art at The Kansas City Institute. My name's Walter Elias Disney but
everybody calls me Walt and here's Mother's address in K.C....".
The second ride on a provisions wagon ended as
a walking barrage traversed
the Voie and shrapnel killed both horses, one
outright and eviscerating
the other, which screamed
and screamed until the
french army teamster crawled out with the
blacksmith hammer he carried for the purpose
and expertly and mercifully brained the
wounded horse. "Now you
must walk, Monsieur, to
that materials depot just
ahead..do you see? This is
Chateau-Nesse and there you will secure a motor wagon proceding further into
the Salient if you are
fou enough" (he cheerfully made the whisked finger at the forehead gesture) "to
go there! Before your departing, see there...".
The poliu gestured toward
a great ruined tree with
an oddly shaped extra
trunk high in the stubbed
branches. "Le Cheval Avion," he said, with a
soft defere..almost reverence. And the Major
saw then how a horse had
been flung up there by a shell some time ago and its weathering carcass looked like a wraith mount from the Apocalypse. The poliu shook his head and said sadly, "Cheval blanc, chevalier blanc, eh?"
And you shall see a pale horse and a pale rider...thought the Major. He stood in the road indecisive for the first time, wondering if the
Father Christmas kit in his canvas valise was silly and, worse, disastrously inappropriate. The mouse in his hat whispered, "Go on, now..they're waiting. They haven't anything up
there. At the least, they will have us!..."
(installment two tomorrow, if desired)
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