Copyright (c) 1994 
 
                          ANNUAL EVENT
                         By Michael Hahn
 
     Geoffrey enjoyed his job, but this time of year it was a 
little hectic.  He always allowed himself a two-month vacation 
after the year's deliveries were made.  After the vacation, 
though, preparations began immediately for the next season. 
     In the mirror, Geoffrey Avrilsen saw a sandy-haired, slender 
man of approximately thirty years of age.  He kept himself in good 
shape, a holdover from his military career.  He'd been worried 
when he accepted this position that he'd lose his physical edge, 
but his predecessor had assured him that an athletic build was an 
asset to be maintained in their profession. 
     The job itself was stressful, several months of preparation
followed by a flurry of activity.  Geoff had the demeanor for it, 
though; his predecessor had chosen him based on his peculiar mix 
of patience, compassion, and aloofness.  It was a lonely job; the 
crews socialized among themselves, and the nearest settlement was 
many miles away.  Geoff didn't mind, though--he'd always found 
himself an acceptable companion. 
     Geoff walked across the hall to his office, read the schedule 
for the day.  Peri McGwagney was due in shortly to report on the
loading crews, then Geoff himself would make the final inspection
of this year's stock.  Geoff smiled; the inspection always took 
the better part of a day, with each division trying to impress him
with their innovations.  The older hands were still suspicious of
the new policies--they felt Geoff shouldn't have tampered with the
old traditions.  Even they could see the world's needs had 
changed, though. 
     The world had seen a lot of changes in Geoffrey's two hundred
fifty-three years as Santa Claus. 
                               ***
     Periwinkle McGwagney was walking awfully tall for a man only 
three feet high.  He was taking his promotion to Loading 
Supervisor very seriously.  His father, Jasper, had been Loading
Supervisor for more than four hundred years before being promoted
to head of Procurement.  Though only eighty-five, Peri had been 
considered the best choice to replace his father.  He wasn't about
to besmirch the family honor. 
     Peri rapped on the door, rumbled a cheery, "Hi, Boss!", and
settled himself in the modified leather chair built to elf 
specifications.  Geoff looked up from a stack of printouts and 
smiled. 
     "So, Peri," he said, "are we on schedule this year?" 
     "Sure are, boss.  The lottery was held yesterday, so your team
is ready, too."  The little man paused for a moment.  "Uh, sir, 
who's going to ride shotgun this year?" 
     Geoff smiled, that special twinkle in his eyes.  "Well now,
Peri, are you applying for the job?" 
     "Uh, well, uh . . ." Peri stammered. 
     "Listen, my friend," Geoff said with a grin, "it has been my
policy to appoint the Loading Supervisor as my second, regardless
of his seniority.  Your father was only ninety-three on his first
trip--Olaf O'Dooligan will get over it." 
     Peri blushed.  "Uh, well, he might get over it a lot sooner.
I rigged the lottery so he got the lead spot." 
     Geoff laughed long and loudly.  "My young friend, there was
a good reason I passed over several senior elves to appoint you to
the dock.  You have initiative!" 
     "Thanks, boss.  I gotta go.  Thanks again!"  Peri left the 
office, grinning as widely as an elf can grin. 
                               ***
     At five p.m. (Greenwich Mean Time) on Christmas Eve, Peri 
rapped softly on the door of Geoffrey's office.  "Come in, Peri,"
came from behind the closed door.  "Could you give me a hand with
this?" Geoff asked. 
     "This" was The Suit.  He'd laid it out on the desk and was in
the process of fastening the suspenders to the bright red 
trousers.  Peri pulled the strap over his boss' shoulder, and 
Geoff thanked him with a smile.  He pulled on the shiny black 
boots, and picked up the red coat trimmed in white fur.  Geoff 
buttoned the buttons, picked up the cap and gloves.  As he pulled
on the last of the gloves, he turned to the watching elf.  "So, 
what do you think?" he said, then winked. 
     Peri chuckled.  "They say the clothes make the man, boss." 
     "Indeed they do, Peri, indeed they do."  Geoff laid a finger
aside his nose, and began to glow.  He got shorter, and rounder,
and jollier of visage; his hair and eyebrows turned white, he grew
a long white beard, and his nose turned a merry shade of red. 
     Santa Claus laid a hand on his aide's shoulder.  "Ho, ho, ho!
Come, lad, our carriage awaits!"  The jolly fat man in the red 
suit and his Loading Supervisor walked down the hall to the 
staging area.  The sleigh was there, loaded, with elves 
waiting in the harnesses. 
     "Ho, ho!!" said Santa, and waved his hands at the waiting, 
grinning elves.  Each elf in turn became a reindeer, with Olaf 
O'Dooligan proudly growing a shiny, red nose.  Santa turned to 
Peri, said, "Come, lad, we've work to do!", and leaped lightly into
the sleigh.  Peri clambered in after, settling himself among the
bags stuffed with brightly-wrapped presents.  Santa grabbed the 
reins, shouted "On, boys!", and away they all flew like the down
of a thistle. 
                               ***
     Seven days later, Geoff signed the last of the paperwork, and 
another year's holiday was over.  He packed a bag, walked down to 
the airstrip, and flew a Cessna to Nova Scotia.  From there he 
caught a Delta flight to New York and transferred to a Miami-bound
737. 
     Geoffrey Avrilsen spent an enjoyable two months on Miami
Beach, then headed back to the North Pole, back to his very special
occupation. 
                               END