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Santa in the time of warming

Santa checked his list a second time. Cargo on board, ship sealed, launch tube filled with water, pressure equalized. He was off.

As it cleared the sea surface, Santa's sleigh sprouted wings. Powerful engines coughed to life and plasma kissed the frigid Arctic water.

"Look ma! It's a flying fish!" "It's a plane!" "It's Santa Claus! " "Hush, children. Chew your blubber."

Acceleration pegged, he's fast. Damn fast. Actually, they call him the streak. You gotta admire his physique.

Santa fired up the Chronotron when he hit cruising altitude. Psychedelic colors out the wazoo. His sleigh fugued. S l e i g h s. T o y s t o o.

2048 Santas disbursed toys with manic speed. But for every stocking filled, 1.17 babies gave out their first cries.

10,000 elves worked for Polar Enterprises. World population growth had forced Santa into an "arms" race he could not win. Corners were cut.

"DaAaaAaD! Santa left me a game console carved from a bar of soap!" "Wadja expect for free?"

Presents rattled down the chimney. "Ho ho ho" blue-shifted into the supersonic shattered windows and the fish tank. "Sorry," drifted down.

Genevieve tore open the white package, ensanguined in the red-litten den."You shouldn't have!" Whips and cuffs: just what she'd asked for.

Unidentified blip, fighters scrambled, just after pilots smoked surprise holiday presents.

The jet fighters, their hash-powered pilots drifting in and out of consciousness, lost the rocket in a mysterious polar fog.

Plunging into the Arctic Ocean as dawn broke, Santa had one last gift in the back. Mrs. Claus did look good in Victoria's Secret. Ho ho ho!

Publ. Daily Cabal 2010